Stars Asunder

by Tao Wong

  Electricity, lightning drawn from the very air around us, erupts from my hands. I reach out with my Elemental Affinity even as I note how Ali swoops down to join the stream. He’s adding his gifts, but seeing the battered, shattered remnants of the monsters we’ve been fighting has given me another idea.

  I reach for the energy sources of these creatures, touch upon the Mana batteries. I can’t control Mana, but the engines, the converters, are using enough electricity for me to manipulate. I make them go into overdrive, using a combination of Mana and Elemental Affinity. It’s easier than it ever has been—partly because of the library, I think.

  The ground before me erupts as lightning, flowing from my hands into the tank, strikes the ground and the shattered corpses of the robots, going into overdrive and jumping right out with even more of a charge. It skips, low to the ground, into the air, directed by Ali and me. Creating a chain of destruction through the entire dungeon floor.

  My eyes squint and water even as Hod filters out the light. The smell of ozone permeates the air, sinking in through the armor, its environmental seals cracked under the onslaught it had faced. I pick out, over the crackle of lightning and the muted screams of the tank, the screams of the mage and hidden healer as they’re caught in the web of electricity.

  “That’s right, eat lightning!” Ali cackles, his invisibility faded as he directs the flow like a conductor at a symphony.

  I bring lightning to the world and I don’t stop channeling Mana into my attack until the robots’ batteries are drained, until the corpses are smoking husks. I stare at the crispy figures of what used to be sapient creatures. Their bodies, their equipment are so damaged, it’s impossible to tell what most of them once were. Only the Risen is still vaguely recognizable, a melted slag of rock and metal.

  And all I can really think of is that I’m rather disappointed. I was expecting more of a challenge.

  “Four…” I shake my head.

  A normal team would be five strong. The thread I noticed showed a fifth, but it was frayed, broken. This was a team, there’s no doubt, but recently restructured. A team of four Advanced Classers sent to assassinate me.

  The plan was good, but I guess they hadn’t thought of my Elemental Affinity—and what I could do with it here.

  Then again, it’s hard to blame them. I hadn’t thought about it until just now.

  “Looks like you ranked up again on your Affinity, boy-o.” Ali’s eyeing me slightly dubiously, having flown back after collecting the corpses.

  “What?”

  “Never seen someone get so used to playing with Mana and their Affinity so fast before,” Ali says.

  I open my mouth to counter the Spirit, then pause. I remember my struggles, the way I fought to learn even a basic Spell modification in space. How hard it was.

  And this… this was simple. Just a matter of creative thought, focus, and desire. And poof, I was suddenly generating multiple nexus points of energy, drawing from Mana batteries and transforming it. It was…

  “Weird.”

  “No shit.”

  “Any idea why?” I say as I wait for the Hod to begin its healing process and for my Mana and Health to recover. Thankfully, the poison had timed out at some point in my little bout of madness. Which leaves me a lot clearer-headed.

  “Only thing that changed was you being poisoned. And the you know what,” Ali says flatly.

  I freeze, and for a second, I feel my heart speeding up. I draw a breath, inhaling and exhaling to steady myself. And I wonder, once more—what exactly did Feh’ral do to me?

  ***

  Finding Saimon was a matter of a few calls. Finding him and a secure location where we could have the necessary discussion was a little harder. Not that there aren’t secure locations scattered throughout the city, but finding one that’s secure for our purposes was little more complicated. Which is why we end up in a private room of the Galactic equivalent of a strip club.

  You have to give it to sapient creatures, privacy when you’ve got weird kinks—and Erethran kinks are really weird considering how open they are about sexuality in general—is a common theme. Considering how powerful certain Skills are, and the need for this level of privacy, the highest quality clubs are highly guarded.

  Which, amusingly, sets up almost a sideline of non-sexual meetings. After all, getting caught arriving at such a location can be a lot less embarrassing. Safer too, than being suspected of plotting treason or the sale of state secrets. It’s still not agreeable, but it’s better than nothing. And so, when I make the request from them for a private room, one with a large enough area and a sterile environment, they don’t even blink.

  “Those really aren’t the kinds of bodies I want to look at when I come to a place like this,” Bolo complains.

  The Dragon Lord is why I located this place on such short notice. He’s also invited himself along. Mikito’s still stuck fighting her tournament but has promised to arrive soon.

  “Not asking,” I reply to Bolo once more.

  What is it with a certain type of person who feels the need to tell you all about his exploits? I don’t want to know, I don’t care, so please stop talking.

  “I have to agree with the Dragon Lord,” Saimon replies. He’s staring at the corpses laid out, floating in midair due to the room’s gravity checks. They’re all shrink-wrapped, or the Galactic equivalent of it, so that they don’t smell or otherwise stink. Considering how they died, that’s something we all find comforting, I’m sure.

  “Very funny, you two.” I point at the bodies. “These were military personnel. Their Classes are a clear indication of that, along with the information I managed to pick out. Now, there’s an obvious culprit. But Harry and Ali have already begun to hit a lot off cut-outs. So the obvious culprit might be just a red herring.”

  “Is that a human saying?” Saimon asks.

  “Yes,” I reply. “You’ve got the resources, so I’m leaving this to you.”

  Harry looks up from where he and Ali are seated on one of those plush red couches with a lot of space in front of them and glares at me. I give him a shrug. I doubt he has the ability or the Credits to find out who sent assassins. These guys, they’ve been playing these games for decades, centuries even. And while Harry might be good at his job, he’s still learning the new landscape of the System. Given enough time, he might be able to track down the people who ordered these assassinations.

  But time isn’t what I have.

  “Perhaps we should look at this from another point of view,” Saimon says, even as he makes the bodies disappear into his storage.

  “What view?”

  “Who would want you dead?”

  Bolo laughs as Ali snorts. He’s focused on trying to crack the trail of payments. Either that or he’s given up and is watching another Earth TV show. Sometimes, I can’t tell.

  “The Redeemer is very hateable,” Bolo helpfully adds. “And all three of the major contenders have reasons to end him.”

  “Yes, but why now?” Saimon says. “They’ve existed with him, without such overt action, for this long. What triggered the attack?”

  I narrow my eyes, thinking about it. The obvious answer is the release of the initiates. The other one is the inclusion of the ex-Champion as an initiate. Both could be a tipping point for contenders. When I mention it, Saimon nods.

  “That could certainly drive some to action.” When I raise my eyebrow, prompting him to go further, Saimon continues. “The Viscountess might take objection to the inclusion of a man who stood aside when the royalty died. She is, distantly, related.”

  “There’s also the concern that your Paladins are in the majority all Erethran natives.” Harry looks up. “I could see the Prophet being concerned about their introduction. Magine is known for his support of the nobility.”

  “Anyone have a reason why the General might want me dead?” I ask, just to check. I can’t think of one, but I’m not perfect.

  Saimon shakes his head, as do Bolo
and Harry. Ali’s the only silent member, and he spins himself in circles.

  “So… I might have one,” Ali says. “Boy-o here is sleeping with one of his women.”

  I snort, and the others just shakes their heads, discarding Ali’s suggestion. It’s pretty clear Brerdain doesn’t give a damn about Catrin.

  “So we can assume that he’s out,” I say. “What do we do?”

  My question brings a long long silence. The way I see it, there isn’t much we can do. Take the usual precautions, start looking into who might want me dead. And that’s it.

  “Great. Pleasure talking to you all. If that’s the case, I’m going back to training,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. If there’s nothing else better to do, I might as well get back to grinding during the day and meeting with the contenders—and wannabe contenders—in the evening.

  “I’ll double your protection force, shall I?” Saimon calls after me as I stalk out.

  I ignore him, knowing that any team can be suborned or bypassed.

  “I’m gonna stay here for an hour.” Ali calls, his voice much louder and deeper.

  I glance back, realizing that he’s increased in size, and I wince. Sometimes, I really don’t understand the Spirit. Then again, sometimes, I don’t think I want to.

  ***

  The last three Levels of the dungeon have been a pain to handle. Not just because monsters have cropped up from Level 100+ to Level 150+, but also because they kept coming in swarms and launching themselves at me. I’ve got to keep my Mana and health at at least 50% at all times. Add the fact that while I wait for the Hod to fix itself, I’m borrowing a suit from the Erethrans, and my combat effectiveness and speed are just down.

  It’s not even as if the suit is bad. It’s the kind of thing they give to the Honor Guard to use. It’s biggest bonuses are to my strength and agility, with some increases to my defenses and resistances. However, it doesn’t have any useful Skills, just a short range Blink and a trio of movable force shields. None of them are that powerful, but because they’re built-in layers, they’re useful against certain types of attacks.

  For all of that, my experience bar creeps up ever so slowly. At this rate, I’ll be grinding for the next couple of weeks or so to hit another Level. Even with the high-Level monsters involved, the experience requirements I have are just getting ridiculous.

  But that’s for tomorrow. Right now, Ali and I have something much larger to handle.

  Maydi Duz Dungeon Boss (Level 176 Final Boss)

  HP: 17,613/17613

  MP: 283/283

  Conditions: Coalesced, Movable Parts, All for One, the Dungeon’s Gift

  What I see before me is a towering mass of droids, robots, and other mechanical servants. It’s a hive mind kind of thing, except not. Each of the droids is a portion of its body, each individually run, but also beings managed by a central processing unit somewhere deep within the creature’s body. I’ve learnt of numerous ways of beating this creature, from slowly wearing away at the robot pieces and other appendages to shattering off portions and dropping them away into different dimensions so they can’t reattach. Acid baths melt the creature into a puddle of liquid metal.

  There are other, more subtle approaches. Cyber hackers send in tracers, burrowing their way through communication links, destroying network accesses, corrupting files, and making the entire thing come apart before they destroy the CPU directly.

  Mages who pull power drain the Mana from the environment and the creature itself, until such time as it’s no longer able to move, making it easy pickings. Oracles who are able to pinpoint the exact location of the CPU in the flowing mass of robots are able to direct their team to destroy the boss in one single combined blow. Necromancers, conjuring phantom facsimiles of ghosts, send them spinning into the center of mass to pull and extract bits and pieces.

  There are a million ways of getting this done. But I’m a simple man. I take the simple approach to things.

  Grinning, I conjure my swords and rush the boss. Daggers go out first, followed by Blade Strikes, each impacting a different location.

  Missiles, fast-driven masses fired from railguns, lasers, and other beam weaponry, explode around me. Electricity arcs through the ground, sweeping at my feet, while gravitic mines turn on, trying to pull my balance off, to crush me or tear me apart in their competing spheres of influence.

  The world goes insane, and for a time, I forget my problems and get lost in the fight. The minutes of peace when there’s nothing to do but struggle and survive.

  ***

  A circle of light and alien glyphs form around me, punctuated by the temporary presence of additional, conjured soulbound swords. There are fifteen blades around me now, each glowing with compressed power. A single swing of the original weapon in my hand is copied fifteen-fold, sending a compressed Blade Strike at the torn and tattered Boss.

  The Dungeon Boss is smaller, significantly smaller, than before. I’ve attacked it multiple times, destroying robot spiders, humanoid fighters, robotic sentinels, and the various liquid-metal externalities it’s used to attack me. I’ve littered the floor with pieces, shattered remnants of the monsters that appeared from the multiple hallways in their vain attempt to form up, to heal their master.

  It’s why, through the fight, I’ve worked to control the environment. Lava rivers flow from one section of the hall to the other, blocking off easy access for respawns. Metal and earth walls clog up spawning entrances, making the creatures work to exit, while gravitic mines of my own sweep aside falling figurines, shifting their trajectories. Some land in traps, others on the spiked piles of other, older corpses. I have temporary wards set up in one section of the Boss Chamber, blocking off a swarm of tiny hornets, none of whom individually can shatter the wards.

  And more.

  The only thing I don’t have are my automated drones and weaponry. The wreck of an artillery drone, hacked and turned against me, lies discarded in a corner. A failure of imagination on my part.

  I’ve fought the Boss for an hour, tearing him down until he’s half his original size. Just about big enough to be covered by my final attack.

  Army of One’s manifestation is a screaming mass of bound Blade Strikes, spiraling in a formation of criss-crossing crescent energy to impact against the Maydi Duz. The Boss doesn’t take it lying down, reforming its mass to create a temporary shield of adamantium and electronics. I hear the tortured screams of drones and metal as they face my ultimate attack Skill. As it tears them apart like a six-year-old’s dreams of getting a pony.

  One attack.

  And the glowing green-and-red sphere of the monster’s core is exposed briefly. Before a chunk of it is torn aside, damaged but not dead. It managed to scoot aside just enough to avoid a quick death. Sadly, it never notices Ali floating down from above, a giant cartoonish hammer of formed energy in hand.

  He swings with all his might, all the while sporting bunny ears and crowing, “Gotcha, doc!”

  “Oy!” I shout at Ali. “No playing around.”

  Ali sniffs, but the energy hammer he formed from the remnant energy expended by Army of One and the sizzling corpses is more than sufficient to end the Boss. I fly down, kicking off with hoverboots until I land next to the monster. I’m too late, as Ali loots the corpse and stares at our earnings.

  Grumbling, I check my notifications.

  Maydi Duz Dungeon Boss (Level 170 Final Boss) Defeated!

  +98,484 XP

  I grunt, waving away the rest of the information. While Ali blathers on about the loot, I walk toward the exit. Tomorrow—later today—I’ll hit the next City Dungeon, and the one after that. And then I’ll Portal to the next one and keep doing it. Grinding, till I hit my experience cap. I still have to find time for my interviews with the various members of the Erethran society, but I’m in a rush now. To hit my Levels before it’s time to let the Queen know. To protect myself from what might be a nasty confrontation.

  Because I’ve got an idea of w
hat I’ll do. Who I’ll choose.

  And I know the Queen won’t like it.

  But for now, rest.

  ***

  “I got to admit, I’m a little disappointed,” I say softly.

  My words startle the figure hovering over my bed, not with a knife or dagger or even an explosive, but with a bottle and dropper. It jerks, glancing at me then at the form lying there, finally spotting the differences. The way the hardlight projection shimmers just a little, at rates that would be impossible to see with naked, non-System eyes. The way its breathing is too regular.

  My poisoner—which is what I assume the bottle is—doesn’t hesitate to flee, heading straight for the wall and the opening it had created. A neat trick that, making the nanite-created walls open up. It made no sound at all when it changed, and a simple force shield kept the wind and exterior temperature and pressure at bay.

  My throwing dagger takes it in the thigh, sending the figure stumbling. I watch the overly generous curves go bouncing, a lock of colored, rainbow hair escaping its mask. The figure rolls and comes up to its knees, reaching for the dagger, only for it to disappear and return to me.

  There’s a low hiss before it darts for the exit again—only to bounce off the elemental shielding Ali has formed. No touch of Mana there, just an adjustment between the air molecules. Making the loose air molecules harder than titanium.

  “You can stop now,” I say.

  I don’t throw my other knife, though I’m ready to. There’s something disturbing about the figure, something off about it. The way it lacks any threads leading to others is paramount among them.

  Nothing—no one—can go through life without attachments. Without debts and obligations tying them down. Even a simple transaction of purchasing coffee sets up a reciprocal thread between you and the server. Those who think they are islands are just blind to the ground that connects them to the continents of humanity.

  “You will fall.” The voice is high, pitchy. Feminine.