by Tao Wong
I crest a small hill, shoulder-checking the Ice Elk in my way and sending it crashing down among the other monsters, giving myself a moment of peace to evaluate what I see before me. A giant, stone-encrusted Grizzly Bear lies in the breach in the wall, its corpse offering sufficient space for other monsters to scramble into the town. Only the corpse itself stops the swarming, squirming horde from entirely overrunning the town.
“Ali, Lightning Special!” I hold up my hand, summoning my magic.
The little Spirit flies to me, sliding in front of my arm to join hands seconds after my lightning bolt unleashes. As always, I feel the magic change when he joins me, his greater Elemental Affinity enhancing and twisting the lightning bolt I unleash.
This is where the Lightning Strike spell shines. The longer I channel the spell, the more monsters the spell strikes, jumping from monster to monster and spreading out. I sweep my hand from side to side, ensuring that the electricity catches the monsters swarming the walls. Most of them are under Level 20, but their sheer numbers have overwhelmed the defenses.
Dressed in my one-piece armored suit, full-faced helmet on and weapons holstered, I sling lightning like a crazed wizard on crack on the hill, burning through monsters without care about my Mana. Unfortunately, I can only face one direction at a time and that means my back is exposed. I get swarmed in a minute, a striped black-and-white ex-housecat clamping its jaws around my shoulder as a feral wolverine chews on my ankle. I crash into the ground and trigger the QSM, sliding away from the monsters.
I dance aside, firing my pistol into the housecat’s head as I turn off the QSM. Point blank, the pistol burns the monster’s eye away and blinds the other, though the creature continues to thrash around. I kick it away, sending the body sprawling amongst others, where it is torn apart.
Ali is no longer floating, sitting on the ground and panting as a Frost Raven attempts to peck him to death. I take off running, heading into the scorched earth and the gap in the wall. I duck, dodge, and fight my way through the few monsters that still live, racing against the tide to get to the gap before them, ignoring the pain and slowly accumulating injuries as stray spikes, bolts, and other projectiles rain down on me.
I leap onto the bear corpse and run forward to a relatively flat portion of its neck. Ahead of me, more monster corpses. Dozens of them are burnt, frozen, and smashed apart before the second improvised earth wall. Right in front of the wall is a series of all-too-human figures, including Jason’s mom. Dead, holding the tide back for a few minutes. Just a few minutes for her son and her city.
I turn, taking station on the relatively flat portion of the bear’s neck, and call forth my sword before downing a health regeneration potion. I watch as what looks like hundreds of monsters rush forward, all of them coming for the gap and me.
Her life, for a few minutes for others. I stand there, watching the horde come, and I find myself smiling, that sea of rage inside me churning. Time to buy a few more minutes.
A subjective lifetime later, I stand amidst a sea of corpses and blink the sweat out of my eyes. A swipe and my helmet retracts, letting me wipe the sweat away at last. Rage subsides, frenzy ended, and I find myself assaulted by pain. I collapse, hand on the ground as I breathe slowly, the glowing red of my lifebar in the corner of my eyes.
Minutes that seem like hours later, I have enough Mana to cast a healing spell. And then another before I can stand straight. I stare at the shredded pieces of my armor and pull it into my inventory before sliding on a new set of clothing as Gadsby limps over to me. Behind him, his hunting group spreads out to kill the last of the monsters, a pair standing watch over the breach.
“John. Thank God you were here.” He claps me on the shoulder and I wince, feeling the newly healed bone creak in pain. Gadsby flushes slightly then looks at the corpses strewn about, whistling. “Damn, you did one hell of a job.”
“Not me.” I shake my head. “I got here late.” Like you, a snide and vengeful part of my mind adds. Not the truth though—in fact, it was the arrival of Gadsby and his hunting group from outside the city that had finally broken the damn swarm, forcing them to flee. “Most of this was from the defenders.”
“I should check inside,” Gadsby says.
I nod, falling into step with him and heading into town, sword held loosely as I search for stragglers. “Ali, loot please.”
“Oh, great. I get to do all the hard work now,” Ali grumbles but sets to it, flying over to each body and looting it.
We don’t bother with my Altered Space. It was two-thirds full before I got here, and Carcross has its own butchering yard after all. I do pause at the gap to touch the Grizzly, filling the rest of the storage with its body so that we can enter the town easier. Almost as soon as we step in, one of Gadsby’s men casts an Earth Wall spell, filling the gap.
Inside, the town is buzzing with activity. Workers—freed from hiding—move corpses and work to fix the damage, eyes bleak when they come across the infrequent bodies of their protectors. In the crescent where Melissa made her last stand, the corpses are piled thicker. Jason stumbles forward from within the town, rushing over to the pile. He pulls aside his mother’s corpse while Gadsby and I stand there, useless.
“Jason?” Gadsby says and gets no answer. He places a hand on Jason’s shoulder and still gets no response. He tries calling his name again but still getting nothing. Looking up, he casts a worried glance deeper into the town.
“Go. I’ll sit with him,” I tell Mike.
He has other responsibilities after all. Me? I can spend the time watching over the kid. Gadsby nods in thanks before heading into town. Within a few steps, questions are already being called to him as others look to him for leadership. In the relative silence around us, I take a seat on the ground, content to let my body slowly heal.
“I had to do it,” Jason breaks the silence with a whispered confession. “She told me to.”
I glance at him then at the crescent of the earth wall and nod. No surprise that it was their most powerful mage who created their hasty line of defense. “Okay.”
“We’d planned for it. Just in case you know, just because. Well, she was always planning, you know. She said if they ever got through the shield and the wall, we’d need to hold them. Keep them from coming in farther, throw up another wall. Mum knew about my spell, had me test it out once,” he rambles as he stares at his mother, the numerous wounds across her body making it impossible to tell what eventually killed her. “When they were about to break in, she told me she’d be the one to hold it. Told me to do it, so I did. She was supposed to jump out after that. Get away. But they caught her, crippled her. I didn’t have enough Mana. I couldn’t save her.”
I nod dumbly, uncertain of what to say. What can you say? Sorry your mom is dead? Sorry you had to put up a wall behind her and let her die? I don’t know what there is to say, but I have to say something. “She knew the risks.”
“I couldn’t save her.” He sobs, his voice growing strained as he attempts to hold back tears. “I should have saved her.”
“You did your best.”
“It wasn’t good enough,” Jason cries out, shaking his head as he stares at the body, tears flowing. “I screwed up. I couldn’t...”
“You tried.” My heart threatens to break watching him, but I push it aside. No time, not now. I squeeze his shoulder hard until he finally looks up at me. My voice grows hard as I stare at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He pushes at my arm, trying to budge it, and I let him. “Then whose it is?”
“The System. The Council.” My voice trembles with the rage I always feel when I think of them. “You and your mom, you guys are just trying to survive. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t choose it. This isn’t your fault.”
He closes his eyes, tears continuing to stream. He grabs his feet, hiding his face behind his knees as he sobs, “I didn’t want her to die.”
“I know.” I fall silent, listening to him cry and shooing others
off.
Gods, I hate this fucking System.
Later, when he’s calmed down a little, we take her body out of the compound to their old house. Its windows are broken, the doors shattered and the garden churned up. Together, we place her in it, then we walk out and Jason sets the entire building on fire.
We watch it burn as others come by to spend some time with Jason, to offer their condolences and their support. Few spend much time with him though—his is not the only loss. We stay till the house is burnt down, then I walk him back and feed him Apocalypse Ale till he crashes. After that, I tuck him into bed. A part of me wonders where that blonde is, the one who grabbed him before, but another part of me figures it’s not my business.
Outside, I find Gadsby and Elder Badger directing the group in cleanup. The wall is fixed, the shields back up for now, but there are more things that need to be done.
“How bad is it?” I ask as I walk up.
“We lost fourteen of our primary fighters, including Melissa. About another two dozen others. Her loss…” Gadsby shakes his head, brown eyes filled with grief. “I shouldn’t say this, but losing her with her Levels—that was the worst.”
I nod in understanding. A single high-level fighter can do significantly more damage than multiple low-level fighters. Worse, Carcross has a much lower population and they were particularly top heavy in their Levels, having over-relied on their main fighters for defense. Andrea looks back to where I came from, her face tense with concern that etches lines deeper into her face.
“How is he?” Andrea asks, her voice filled with concern and weariness.
“Asleep. He’ll need someone to watch out for him.”
They nod.
“We know. It’s not as if we haven’t had experience at this,” Andrea says, her voice tinged with regret.
“It isn’t safe out here. You need more fighters, more defenses,” I say, feeling as if I’m stating the obvious. I probably am, but if I don’t say it, I’ll regret it later.
“Yes. We’ll… talk about it,” Andrea says, sharing a meaningful glance with Mike. I don’t get it, but that’s okay, so long as they’re thinking about it. “Thank you, John. Again.”
“Eh, it’s fine.” I wave away her gratitude, staring into the night.
I shut my eyes then open them again—an older blonde lying on dirt among blood and guts floats into my mind. Rage boils in me, warring with grief. I can’t do this right now. Not the people, not the gratitude. I don’t say anything as I walk away, heading for the exit.
There are monsters out there that still need killing.
Chapter 9
By the time I got back to Whitehorse, it was the evening of the next day. Even with my ridiculous Constitution, I’d crashed right after eating, resting up after pushing myself. I missed the funerals in Carcross, which was fine—I’ve been to enough of them to last me a lifetime. When I woke up, I found a small note of thanks and a big bar of chocolate from Rachel. Ali had already drunk through his gratitude. The only other thing I had was a note from Capstan to meet them at their compound.
Compound. Sounds like a such a defensive, scary word, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, that’s what we have forced the Yerick to build in their own portion of the city, after we burnt down the existing human buildings. A walled compound with watchtowers and a passive defensive shield that watched for intruders.
Perhaps most surprising are the buildings in the compound itself. Or maybe I should say building, since everything is connected via shaded walkways on the ground and in the air, broken up only by a series of open air, grassy courtyards. The buildings themselves are filled with graceful lines and have a tendency to make me feel a little small, what with their doorways being at least twelve feet high and ceilings a good twenty feet up, with a minimum of three stories in each portion. I let my eyes wander, drinking up the information while I consider how much to let the Hakarta know of this. I’m sure they’ll be interested, but as always, I’ve got to balance my utility to them with the security of the city. Well, most of this looks pretty standard so it’s likely nothing I can say here would be surprising.
The Yerick at the gates let me in without comment and direct me to wait in the square ahead. A cynical, paranoid part of me notes that this first square has a number of windows looking into it, windows which have armored shutters and what look like portable shield ports. There are also only two exits from this location, even if I can see the walkways ahead of me. I’d place good Credit on there being shield generators in front of those exits, ready to be triggered in the event of an attack.
Right now, the square is filled with Yerick children and a lone human child playing tag. Of course, the tagger is a Bounding Rabbit, a Level 1 monster that is certainly not playing in its attempts at child homicide. However, the adults who watch over the group look entirely relaxed, including, surprisingly, Miranda LaFollet, human councilor.
I frown, eventually deciding to speak with the only other human here. “Miranda?”
“Mr. Lee.” LaFollet’s French-Canadian accent makes it hard to understand her, as always.
“Is that safe?” I ask, and she shakes her head, lips twisting wryly. “Then…?”
“Why am I letting my son participate?” Miranda’s lips thin, her eyes darkening with worry. “Do you know that the Yerick train their children from young? They play tag with monsters, play ‘steal the eggs’ with blinded cockatrices, and adults conduct weekly hunts with their children. They aren’t the only ones too—a number of other Council races train their children from a young age. The Hakarta are very similar in their methods. The Truinnar are even more harsh.”
“No CPS then?” I say.
“They do it because they believe, all of them do, that hiding their children from the realities of the System is tantamount to abuse,” Miranda says, her hand clenching. “I lost his father because we weren’t ready. We, I, hated violence. I thought it was barbaric to hit your child, to hunt for your meat. I still do. For the world before the System, it was wrong. But we don’t live in that world anymore. And I won’t lose my son.”
As we speak, a Yerick child, a small ball of fluff and anger, slips as he dodges. The Rabbit smashes into him, and the sharp crack of a broken bone resounds through the square. I begin to move but am caught by Miranda, her head shaking slightly. Even as the Rabbit spins, getting ready to finish his downed opponent, another child darts forward and smacks it on the nose with a stick. While the Rabbit’s attention is diverted, another pair of children, including Miranda’s son, grab the fallen youngster who is gamely keeping his face straight. Working together, they drag him to the corner where a bored-looking teenager waits. In defiance of my expectation though, no healing spell is used. The child is forced to sit and wait for his System-assisted body to fix the damage.
“Harsh,” I murmur, watching the scene, and Miranda nods.
“Not really. Kid’s in no danger and the teenager has a healing spell. He’ll be back playing in minutes,” Ali says into my mind. “The Yerick might be a bit more rustic in their approach, but she’s right. Most races adopt some form of childhood training.”
“I’m going to push that we begin such training soon. That the Yerick help us with it,” Miranda says, her eyes flashing in determination.
“What… what does Fred think of this? And Minion?”
“They think it’s stupid. Foolish.” She shakes her head, her voice growing firmer. “Fred wants us to go back to what the world was. Wants it to be safe again for his child. He wants everything back to what it was. Eric… Eric is single. He always has been.”
I nod and fall silent. I have nothing to add. I have no power in the Council, no say in this. I am relieved of the duty of speaking further when Capstan exits a building, waving to me.
“Got to go.”
“Yes. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.” As I hurry off to join Capstan and his team for our next dungeon run, I hear her murmur, “Next time, finish the job.”
I make sure not to let on that
I heard her. I really don’t need any encouragement.
“Nope. Not a chance. I’m out,” I repeat, backing away from the ledge.
We’re standing in Miles Canyon, a canyon carved by the Yukon River a few kilometers outside of Whitehorse and just a few hundred meters away from the pedestrian suspension bridge. It’s one of the prettiest spots in the Yukon, a beautiful location that was quite popular with tourists due to its accessibility and the picturesque canyon walls and glacial water. Standing on the cliff edge, I feel the breeze on my skin, carrying the smell of fresh pine and clean, cold glacial water to me.
“It’s not that bad,” Aron says.
I look once more past our feet, where the river widens significantly into a nearly circular lake before narrowing again as it flows to Whitehorse. Right in the center, there’s a new whirlpool, the water swirling deep into darkness. That’s where they want me to jump.
“Not happening.” I shake my head, stepping away. “I know your scouts found this dungeon recently, but I’m not doing it.”
Capstan frowns, tilting his head, then gestures to the water again. “The dungeon is within a Level 20 zone. It is unlikely to be of significant difficulty.”
Arms crossed, I say, “Don’t care. Not going in.”
“That is, of course, your choice.” Capstan shrugs, gesturing to the others to get ready.
They move to the cliff’s edge, strapping on their scuba gear while leaving the additional gear aside for me. My lips tighten as I watch them.
“So there is something you’re scared of,” Ali says.
“Fuck off. I just really don’t like the water.”
I shiver as a memory flashes through my mind. Water entering my mouth and chest as my friend and I claw at each other. Neither of us able to swim and both of us in the deep end of the pool by accident. No bottom that I could touch, no air that I could breathe. I shut my eyes, a sliver of fear escaping its coiled confines. I push it aside, forcing my breathing to settle, and I open my eyes again.