Ascension

by B F Rockriver

  The system could create Nemesis objectives and rewards based on the actions and outcomes of those involved. Essentially, any repeated conflict could cause a nemesis declaration. This was usually after several combat encounters or one significant intentional act of aggression between two or more parties. The example the manual gave was one group murdering another, while they were in combat with another enemy. The system would then give out a title and assign rewards. Usually, the conditions were for one player to kill their nemesis a certain number of times. They would then receive experience, reputation, and money. If the conflict grew large enough, valuable items or strongholds would be transferred. To Eli, it seemed similar to the quest system but far more brutal, with slightly different rewards. Encouraging players to kill one another to gain strength repetitively seemed immoral.

  The idea sickened him, and he wanted no part in it. He also knew that if he continued down his path of wanton violence, he would eventually end up locked into the Nemesis system himself. He had to change his behavior. He had to control his fear and rage, or end up a slave to some never-ending cycle of death and murder. Not wanting to spend too much time on the subject, he banished the rest of the information on parties and the nemesis system to focus on classes.

  The manual was nearly void of information on classes, skills, abilities, and magic. Discouraged, because he desperately wanted to shoot fireballs out of his hands, Eli frowned. Life would be so much easier if he could shoot fireballs, or charm others into doing his bidding. Yet the system made people work for those types of powers. A player had to find it out on their own. The world was designed to encourage exploration and learning from experience. If every player could cast magic, the world would be a very different place. It most likely would have already ended. After a few minutes of listening to Aida repeat everything Don had already told him, he switched topics. He focused on Strongholds.

  “Strongholds are mysterious locations with unique rewards. Capturing one can be the first step on a path to greatness.” Aida’s words played in the back of his mind with false mystery.

  Wait, only two sentences. That’s it? Eli asked, sending his thought to Aida.

  “Yup.”

  Well, that’s helpful. Got anything else on the subject? Eli replied, annoyed.

  “Nope, you’ll just have to capture one to find out what they do, or wait until someone else does.”

  Knowing that they were gaining on Michelle and the ruins, Eli brought his research to an end. With a thought, he closed out of the manual and brought up the option to turn his guide on or off. He could only see a single grey line before the window closed abruptly.

  “Um, are you going to turn me off? Because that would be rude.” Aida’s voice interrupted.

  No, I was just trying to see what my options were.

  “Well, if you want to know something, all you have to do is ask.” She huffed.

  Before Eli had the chance to question her actions, a loud clang rang out in the distance. Immediately shifting his attention, Eli focused on the sharp sounds of clanks of metal on metal. Coming to a halt, he opened his senses, before being assaulted by the raspy laughter of Michelle, taunting an unseen foe.

  “Ha! You boys are pretty good. I’ll give ya' that.”

  Chapter 28

  At the sound of combat, Eli and Don both sunk into crouched positions, stopping their progress immediately. The sounds of an intense battle reverberated through the woods at an ever-increasing volume, as both companions slowly made their way towards the grunts and clashing of weapons. Each slow, stealthy step brought a new understanding and a better view of the battle.

  Swift, powerful blows were being traded by two stout warriors. Each strike sent vibrations through the surrounding, causing Michelle to backpedal. While Eli could not see who she was fighting, it was clear that Michelle was losing ground. On instinct, Eli motioned for Don to flank his enemy and approach. As he snuck closer, Eli saw three figures come into focus. The first was Michelle, then a short goblinoid figure. During a rather brutal exchange, he saw a massive Orc-Ogre hybrid, wielding an intimidating double-handed claymore.

  With the fight pressing in his direction, the brute came into focus. As his perception skill kicked in, Eli’s vision became as clear as a mountain pond on a clear summer day. What he saw caused malice and hatred to swell in his core. His body shook, as a torrent of murderous intent flared within him. An overwhelming urge to destroy, to kill, over-loaded his senses. The man the troll was fighting was the same arrogant monster who murdered Eli’s family. The grin on the ogre’s face caused Eli to snap, as a tidal wave of long sequestered anguish broke free.

  A notification scrolled at the bottom of his vision as he roared. His emotions vented like steam from a boiler, fueling his need for battle. As he sprang to action, the world faded to a blur. The hue of the surrounding woods changed from vibrant browns and greens to a subdued sepia-tone void with his target at its center. He charged, as Aida screamed through the fog of hatred.

  As Eli’s world faded, time slowed. He found it strange but exhilarating. His movements seemed faster, stronger. Gone was any semblance of fear or hesitation. The useless instincts washed away by his new, unfamiliar state. Every thought, every emotion vanished, replaced with a singular determination, ending the existence of the man who had wronged him. He would remove his enemy from reality itself.

  Michelle, Don, and the Goblin sized figure faded into the background as his target grew near. In one step, he saw the man hesitate, stopping mid-swing to look at Eli. He saw the confusion on the man’s face. In the next, Eli raised his weapon, uncaring of any damage that his enemies could bring down on him. The bastard would die, even if it cost him his life. With Eli’s next step, the man’s face showed signs of recognition and pleasure, his own lust for battle surging.

  “Ah, another toy to play with,” The man said in a deep, brutish voice that faded into the background.

  A heartbeat later, Eli had crossed nearly ten paces in only three steps. It was as if he had been leaping forward, dashing through space, as time churned through molasses. With a final step, the Orc’s name and information appeared above his head, Rotgutt Th’Destroya, Level 10 Champion. Eli was upon his enemy. Not questioning the difference in level or items, he held his sword in both hands and swung.

  The man prepared himself, taking on the stance of a trained swordsman, “Let’s do this.”

  Concussive waves rippled from the impact of the two weapons. As the massive two-handed blades met, vibrations rattled Eli’s joints causing his teeth to clap shut, but no pain followed. He felt nothing; his senses dulled by hatred. Strange murmurs seeped into his ears from unseen creatures around him, as if someone was trying to speak to him while underwater. He paid them no attention. Something, a foot maybe, impacted his ribs, sending a snapping sound echoing through his body. The force of the impact sent him sliding back a few paces.

  Feeling his ribs shift, Eli coughed. Specks of warm red liquid landed on the Orcs armor. Just another thing to worry about later. Lifting his sword, he charged, bringing it down in a furious arc. His muscles bulged, growing to an unnatural size with the effort, as it struck his enemy’s weapon. The Orc winced in pain as Eli rained blows in repetitive downward swings as if he were hacking into a stubborn piece of wood. There was no grace or preparation in his movements, only purpose.

  Something sharp jabbed into Eli’s back at his kidneys. He felt the warmth of blood streaming from his body. A notification auto minimized, with a distinct chime. What did that mean again? Again, Aida's screams called out, muffled. The thought died as the foul creature, the cause of his torment, released a hand from the grip of his sword, and slammed it into Eli’s face. More blood escaped his body, his mouth filling with the taste of warm iron. What he knew should be pain, only caused his vision to turn a deeper shade of red.

  Looking up, Eli saw a grin plastered on his enemy’s face. The sight infuriated him. This was a game to him. He did this for fun. Using his anger as a
source of strength, Eli lifted his weapon before slamming it down into his enemy’s guard. Sparks and shards of metal flew into the small battlefield as the blades collided like two meteors. There was no stopping him. It was too late for that.

  “Heh, this seems personal. Did I do something?” Rotgutt laughed as the sparks bounced off of his face. Using the distraction of his words as an opening, the Orc planted a hand against Eli’s shoulder and pushed. The man's strength caused Eli to step back, nearly putting him on his ass. “What was it I wonder, did we hurt your puppy or something?”

  Catching his balance a moment too late, Eli stumbled. The better-trained and higher-level champion raised his massive sword in a diagonal upward slash. Yet another chime rang, as the man’s blade carved Eli from waist to shoulder. Still no pain, just more blood. In an attempt to counter, Eli swept his own blade in an upward slash from right to left in a wild arc. Seeing the attack coming, Rotgutt backpedaled, avoiding the haphazard attack with ease. In the next breath, Rotgutt lurched forward, slamming his shoulder into Eli's wounded torso. Another snap and the image of his health bar flashed before his eyes as if forced into focus, reigniting his fury. It was almost empty.

  Using the momentum of the man’s attack to his advantage, Eli spun his weapon, building speed, whipping his blade around in a wide circle he attacked, only for the blade to stop short. He had cleaved into something other than his target. What he had struck was of no concern, other than his weapon being stuck in whatever he hit. He had to move. The monster was charging.

  Before Eli could react, the massive player slammed into him. The powerful tackle sent him stumbling to a knee as he tripped over whatever it was he had just struck with his sword. Another figure, similar in size to his enemy, came into view. The being stood between him and his foe, raising a large blunt object. With a wet meaty sound, the figure sent the weapon smashing it into Rotgutts right shoulder. As Eli stood, Rotgutt swatted the interloper aside with a swift kick to the midsection. With a little effort, Eli freed his blade. As he did, a sucking sound followed, and blood dripped from the blade’s edge. Seeing his enemy occupied, he attacked.

  On instinct, Eli lunged, trusting his sword for the man’s heart. Before the impact, the Orc corrected his balance and shifted his weight. The slight shift caused the blade to sink into Rotguts already ruined shoulder. As blood sprayed from the point of impact, several drops landed on Eli’s face. With a smile on his face, Eli laughed and prepared to finish the wounded player.

  As he readied an attack, something grabbed onto Eli’s waist. A rough, four-fingered hand. That’s odd, he thought. That someone was trying to stop him was amusing. Throwing the weakly grasping hand off of him, Eli pressed on with cold determination. He stared down his wounded opponent and grinned. With blood leaking from the corners of his upturned mouth, he planted his feet.

  His knuckles turned white, tightening around the hilt of his sword. Making sure his enemy was within reach, Eli planted his back foot and adopted a familiar stance. It was one he had used to fell massive redwoods. Muscles tightened and bones cracked under the strained effort, as he wound up for his attack in one fluid motion. Pivoting at the waist, he put everything he had into one final strike. Unleashing the torsion of his muscles in a powerful arc, he swung.

  The orcish warrior saw the attack coming and raised his chipped claymore to block it. Planting his own feet and releasing a battle-cry from deep within his chest, Rotgutt sent his sword to action. The weapons crashed together like opposing tides. The impact elicited a painful scream from Eli’s foe as the already chipped blade cracked.

  While Eli’s weapon had been stopped, it had done damage, crippling the man’s already injured shoulder. Noticing the gap in combat, Eli stepped closer, planting his feet again. This time the motions were faster, more fluid. In one final attack, he released every ounce of pain and suffering that he had ever felt into a single devastating blow. As his sword approached his enemy, Eli could feel his muscles burning, his body going weak. None of that mattered as the two weapons clashed.

  The impact that followed brought a smile to his face. His weapon struck another attempt to block, one that did little to save the wounded warrior. Rotgutt’s right shoulder was useless, allowing him the use of only one hand, and his weapon had run out of durability. The sturdy, well crafted Dadao shattered the claymore with ease, before continuing on its intended path. Blood sprayed from deep arterial wounds, showering Eli in gore as his weapon met flesh. For the first time since he had awoken to the smell of pork belly, Eli felt joy. How long ago was that?

  That day seemed like ages ago, yet the thought brought a sense of relief. One that tore at the barrier of his vengeance fueled rage. A moment later, color returned to Eli’s world, as his strange battle trance faded. What replaced it was blood, immense pain, and terrible screams, as his blade slid through Orcish flesh.

  His attack had sliced through Rotgutt's arm, near the shoulder, severing it completely. The sharp axe-like blade then stuck itself into his chest, causing ribs to part as purple looking blood flowed freely. Eli prepared to finish his foe, and his lips parted wide in a feral-looking smile. Before he had time to complete his grisly task, a large meaty object smashed into his temple, the impact causing him to lose balance and his vision to waver.

  Before he could react, another blow came down upon him, and another, then several more in rapid succession. His world was dimming at the edges, yet returning to natural color, as both his health and stamina bar flickered nearly empty. For the first time since he allowed his rage to overtake him, he was aware of his surroundings. He was standing in a pool of blood. Someone had stabbed him multiple times. His ribs were cracked in multiple locations, and he was bleeding at an alarming rate. To make matters worse, some monster was doing everything they could to smash his brains out of his skull, and the Orc Warrior was still alive. Sort of.

  His body slowly acted to protect itself, rather than attack, as he brought his hands up to protect his head from the vicious blows. As soon as he did, they stopped, and two hands grabbed him by the shoulders. Then his world quaked, as meaty indigo paws that clamped onto his clavicles, shaking him violently.

  “What the fuck are you doing, he’s already fucking dead.” The words came from someone familiar, someone he was looking for. “We need to help your fucking friend. Snap out of it,” It was Michelle.

  “What, what do you mean?” Eli responded, realization and dread in his voice, as he looked to the floor. The pool of blood he was standing in wasn’t his own, or from the Orc he had just maimed. “Where’s Don?”

  “Eli.” His friend's voice whispered, his words wet and labored. As they reached Eli’s ears, Michelle stopped shaking him, turning him around. “Help.”

  With horror, Eli looked at Don. The turta was lying on the ground, soaking in a shallow pond of his own blood. A severe-looking wound, similar in size and shape to Eli’s blade, nearly split the man at his stomach.

  Staring at his friend, his eyes wide with panic, Eli mumbled, “What happened,” slowly moving towards his injured friend’s side.

  He could see a deep, clearly defined gash where something long, heavy, and sharp had sunk into flesh. Tears fell down Eli’s face, collecting in his coarse beard. He knew what happened. He knew he did this, and he knew he had to fix it.

  Eli turned to Michelle, who was standing over him with a scowl plastered on her face, “I’m going to need your help.” His words were nearly silent, realizing the irony of the situation. He had just tried to kill her, then nearly killed his own friend. Frantically, he started searching through his inventory until he spotted the roll of bandages and jars salves that Alyssa had given him.

  “Here, coat these bandages with this,” He handed her the roll, and jars. “Then wrap them around his wound,” he went back to searching through the cluster of items now cluttering his vision. “Where is it,” He screamed, knowing that Don had only moments to live, and it was his fault.

  “Nope,” Her reply was cold and
heartless, nearly causing Eli’s momentarily stunted rage to boil over yet again. She hadn’t moved a muscle.

  A flash in the corner of Eli’s vision brought his attention to both his and Don’s status. During the battle, Eli had been poisoned and started bleeding. His own health bar sat just above five percent full and was steadily dropping. He would survive if treated, but his friend was in a much more dire situation. Don’s health-bar had a large crimson raindrop next to it and a greenish tint. He, too, had been poisoned, and his health points were draining rapidly. As it stood, he had less than one-tenth of his life remaining. He would be dead in a matter of seconds.

  “Fuck! What do I do, what do I do?” Eli screamed, trying to put pressure on his friend’s wound, as the items Michell had been holding dropped to the ground next to him. Thick warm liquid covered his hands, and he could feel the pressure of his friend’s heartbeat through intermittent spurts of blood. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  In usual fashion, his words were cut short, interrupted by Don’s voice, “Don’t worry. Just, fucking fix it.” His friend’s voice came out weak and garbled as if whispering through a mouthful of syrup. “Get the cloth. Put pressure on the wound. Find a healing potion.”

  Eli searched his inventory for the red vial but found nothing. Rather than wasting more time looking for the missing item, he started wrapping his friend’s wound, knowing the bandage would not be enough. The bleeding slowed, and the icon associated with it began to flash, but it did not disappear. Eli scrambled, looking for anything he could use to reverse the damage that he had done, finding nothing.

  “Fuck! This isn’t going to be enough.”

  A gentle but steady push sent his weak body onto the ground. The lumbering troll warrior stood hovering above both Eli and Don.

  With a grunt, she pulled a small vial of crimson liquid out of a sack on her waist, hanging it in front of Don’s face, “He’s going to die. Unless I give this to him right now.” The small, delicate-looking bottle of life-saving liquid dangled and shook in midair, Michelle waving it from side to side. “Now, I can’t just give this to him for free. It’s the last I’ve got. And frankly, I don’t like you two assholes. Especially after your little display there.” She pointed at the twitching form of the now-dead Rotgutt, “You’ll have to give me something in return.”