As they passed into his actual memory, he once more thought about the fact that he would never, could never, compare to his companions. So many of his stats went to cover the sixty-three-point deficit. Soon he would have the chance to build an entire set of armor for Katarina. Then she would be a mountain of angry redhead.
“My lord! Are you alright?” asked Isabelle from behind.
Looking over his shoulder, he frowned at the lithe blonde. Annoyance tickled his brain at the title she could not break. Or would not.
“Why wouldn’t I be? It was my spell after all. Though I suppose I need to go loot him. Here, follow along. My mana is tapped out and I could use an escort,” Runner said. Walking away from her, he lined himself up with the smoking corpse.
“Your spell? My lord, you use magic?”
“Sometimes. Depends on my mood.”
“Swords as well?”
“Yes, why?”
“And you crafted Katarina’s blade? It’s classed as an artifact…”
“Lady Death’s staff, Kitten’s sword and shield. Yes. Again, why?”
“That’s not possible. None of it is for a single person.”
“Sure it is, only for me. Stick around long enough and prove your loyalty, Isabelle. I’ll end up equipping you the same. Can’t have my mercenary commander running around in crappy gear.” Runner had the time to invest in gearing everyone on the trip. The carriage rides grew duller with every mile. “Ah, here we are.”
Bending down over the corpse, he shifted the contents into his bag. There wasn’t any point to anything the creature dropped.
He opened a trade window with Isabelle and transferred the gear to her.
“Take that. Personal gift from me. Do what you will with it.”
“My lord! I—these are very powerful. I cannot.”
“Pretty sure you’ll be breaking an order at that point. Unless you wanted to hand yourself over to me as a personal possession, I’m sure you misspoke.”
Done with the smoldering corpse, he began to trek back to the encampment. No one moved, everyone stood still, watching his approach. He had the distinct impression they were not sure what to make of the situation.
“Of course, my lord. My apologies. I accept these with the goodwill they were given in.”
“Damn right. I need you to hook in with Rabbit and get your shit squared. She’ll inventory out for me what I need. Start learning from her as fast as you can as well. I expect you to act as quartermaster for future mercenary groups. Off with you then. I’m tired of this place.”
Runner shook his head. There had to be some way to get Splatterhouse working on a more normal scale.
Shrinking the spell down would definitely make it more usable. Though it would then do inherently less damage.
Wait. Who can use magical items? Crafters can use magical items. Crafters would never dare challenge me. Make ’em big. Bulky. Hard to move once in place. They’ll end up no drop, so there will be no possibility of giving them away. Yes…
He could never hope to achieve the heights that Katarina, Thana, Hannah, or even Nadine could reach.
But I can definitely push them even higher. I don’t need to be better than them, I have to make them better than ever.
I shall become the merchant of death.
The real world had the likes of Oppenheimer. Here, here in Otherlife, it would have Norwood.
A slow evil grin spread across his face as he devised weapons in his mind. Weapons to cause mass destruction.
Trapped in his own body and unable to move, Runner screamed deep from his stomach. Screeched until his throat bled and his tongue hurt.
His arms and legs were bound to a table. A metal band had been clamped tightly to his brow and held his head in place.
Where am I? How did I get here? What’s going on?
Around him, masked creatures gathered. They were clothed in surgical scrubs, but he could see their glossy skin between the clothes. They occasionally reached out to touch various parts of his naked self with their three-fingered hands. And he lay there. Unable to move.
One of the monsters leaned over Runner’s chest and then drew a blade down at an angle from his shoulder.
Pain alone made him want to piss himself silly. A second cut was made on the opposite shoulder in the same manner as the first. Where the two slices met, the knife edge came again. From sternum to navel, he felt his skin spreading apart.
They were dissecting him. An autopsy.
Shoving a metal instrument under the skin, they worked to peel it off. A new pair of hands appeared, a metal device shaped like a wishbone cradled between alien claws.
The device was jammed into his ribs, and he felt them crack before snapping apart like dry kindling. Eyes wide in agony, Runner stared in shock as the creature stuck its hands deep into his chest cavity.
Panicked, afraid, and in pain, Runner tried to turn his head to scream for help. He managed a single inch. Laid out to his left were five identical men, locked in place. They were all him. They were all Runner Norwood.
Sitting bolt upright in his bed, Runner grabbed at his nightshirt with his right hand. Panting, he confirmed his body to be whole, correct, undamaged. Pressing his left hand to his eyes, he mentally checked the in game clock. It was three am.
The nightmare wasn’t lost on him. His mind had decided he would live what had probably already happened to Uno and company.
No. Not Uno. Michael Werner, Vick North, Jeff Finch, James Smith, Ben Pitt, Devon Malard. Ted Henshaw makes seven. Seven lives.
He shuddered, his skin cold, his mind sliding to and fro. Settling himself as best as he could, he lay back down into his bedding.
Staring up at the ceiling, he swallowed. Months ago he had wondered at the man he was becoming. Now he had his answer.
Unknown fingers locked around his right hand, squeezing his palm. Letting his head loll to the right, he found Hannah’s blue eyes staring into him.
“I’m losing myself, Hanners. I’m not a good person. If I met someone who had done the things I’ve done, I’d curse them. Curse them and the day they were born,” Runner choked out.
“The fact that you’re all fucked up over your choices means you’re clearly not lost. Maybe a little directionless, but not lost. No one in this world of ours, as shitty as it may be at times, has had to, or will have to, make the choices you do.”
Runner nodded his head a little, a fragile hold over his psyche settling in.
“You can talk to me. Talk to any of us. Well, maybe not prissy pants Nadine. She’s a goody two-shoes to the core. We’d all help you, Runner. In any way we could.”
“I know. Thank you, Hannah. I’m going to try to go back to sleep now.”
Patting his hand with hers, Hannah rolled over and invaded Nadine’s sleeping space, throwing an arm around the merchant.
Snickering quietly to himself, he had to feel impressed. Those two had come a long way from where they’d started. They all had.
He did not want to think about the fact that they had not yet found out about Uno and the rest. He would have to tell them soon. Hiding secrets would be the first step to losing their trust.
Their trust was one of the few precious things he had left.
Firm callused fingers wrapped into his nightshirt and dragged him across the floor towards Katarina and Thana’s bed.
Coming to a stop, he found himself wedged into the base of the bed frame. Above him were Katarina’s coal-colored eyes. They watched him.
She said nothing, as if she needed no words. She smiled, a gentle smile promising security and safety, and rested that long-fingered hand of hers in the middle of his chest. Her head disappeared from view as she returned to her pillow.
Feeling rather childish at how secure he felt, he nearly berated himself. Then stopped.
Who the fuck cares?
Resting his hand atop Katarina’s, he snuggled back into his blankets and closed his eyes.
Take comfort when and where yo
u can.
5:42pm Sovereign Earth time
11/11/43
“You did what? You m-m-murdered them?!” Nadine screeched at him.
“I traded murderers for vital resources. Even now Srit’s people are installing a new server. One that I can prep to take up the role of the medical server. It’ll take time to figure out what to install and how to install it, but I can give it a full basic medical server image. Even with the base release programming, it’ll be leaps and bounds beyond what this game can handle and provide.”
“YOU T-T-T-TRADED PEOPLE’S LIVES AWAY, RUN-N-NER!” Nadine shouted.
Thankfully they were situated in their campsite. The ability provided privacy in a place where one would not expect it. Thana, Hannah, and Katarina had taken his news with stoicism. Thana looked a little concerned over it, yet was probably weighing it out against the benefits.
“Rabbit, please, don’t shout at me. I did. I’m responsible for many lives. Many, many lives. I traded six lives for the sake of over four hundred thousand. I’m the one who has to live with that, not you. Am I happy with it? No. I’m not,” Runner hissed at her.
“Do I regret it? I regret only that I didn’t take action previously. When the knights found them, they were standing over two corpses. Corpses of little traveling merchants like you. That, according to those murdering bastards, had nothing but bread and some coins. I let them go once, and it cost at least two more lives.”
Runner stopped, his shoulders hunched as he spoke in a poisoned voice.
“I sold their worthless lives away, Rabbit. I sold them away at the steep price of my own soul and well-being. I’m also ninety percent closer to getting everyone out.”
“Runner! This isn’t like you. This isn-n-n’t you. You’re better than-n this.”
“No. I’m not. It pains me to disappoint you, Rabbit, but this is only going to get worse. I’m going to lead an army into combat and get people killed. Black and white morality has no place here. The humans were attacked first, without warning. They’re counterattacking. We’re technically not in the right here, and hundreds will die.”
Biting off a dark laugh, he shook his head, turning to leave the camp. He didn’t feel like sleeping right now. Sleep brought its own problems. There would be only nightmares waiting for him in sleep.
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Rabbit. I’m afraid I’m speeding along merrily on my dark descent.”
Hours later when he returned to camp, when everyone was abed, he found a single plate resting in his usual spot by the fire. Smiling sadly, he picked it up with a quick inspection.
Item: Grilled steak and vegetables
Quality: Great
Effects-
Full: Constitution increase
Nadine would have made it. Made it for him. Even when angry at him. She fussed over his health and his infrequent meals despite him reminding her he technically did not actually need to eat.
Choking back a shaking breath, he ate quietly, grateful to the little merchant queen who forgave him, even when he would never forgive himself.
Chapter 8 - Norwood Arsenal -
1:39pm Sovereign Earth time
11/13/43
Two days had passed since his falling out with Nadine. Though she did not speak of it again, it was clear she was still upset with him. Forgiveness could be given, even if one didn’t forget.
Of the thousand-strong army that had been sent, eighty were qualified to use magical items. All of them had been drafted into the newly created Special Ordnance team. They also happened to almost all be people heading to rebuild North Wood Fort. Which made it all the easier to give them orders.
Especially after having Awakened them.
Runner had been spending his evenings crafting long-barreled breech-loading cannons. With any luck they would hopefully give him an edge when they finally engaged the enemy. The work also kept his hands and mind busy. Letting his thoughts wander was a danger lately.
Looking like a long tube mounted on a wooden carriage, each cannon left quite a bit to be desired in appearance. At the rear of the weapon, a pair of long screw-like rods were set into the carriage. A seating bracket for the cannon had been placed between them and could be adjusted easily to shift the cannon up or down. Crude as it might be, it would serve its function well, allowing the gunner to change the angle smoothly.
Locking mechanisms could be slid into place to hold the barrel at the chosen angle, providing accurate repeated shelling of a target.
Enchanted to put out a magnificent volume of air in a sliver of time, it acted like a giant blowgun. A touch of help from Srit and he had even managed to rifle the barrel. For whatever good it might do.
He really wasn’t sure if it would do anything to add to its accuracy. Physics here weren’t always analogous to the real world. Couldn’t hurt though.
Serving the role of armory was an obelisk of stone. It stood six feet high and a hole had been carved out of the center. A cradle sat in the rock, waiting to catch the payload upon activation. It was capable of producing a single Splatterhouse round every thirty seconds.
He had put together three mockups that would fire solid slug rounds instead of Splatterhouse rounds.
The real obelisks had already all been created and were awaiting deployment.
No need to go all in quite yet.
In teams of two, the SO crews worked to fire rounds at a distant hillside, swapping out after each activation so they could experience a fresh reload. Learning the basics of preparing an unloaded cannon.
Nodding his head in satisfaction, he left his teams to their work and trudged away.
He had his own weapons to practice.
Coming to the realization that he should embrace his charisma, rather than flee from it, Runner had sat down and created a charisma boosting spell that was similar to the other stat enhancers.
Now his equipment and subsequent bound spells reflected this change in mentality. He tapped open his character screen and gave himself a final check.
Name:
Runner
Level:
27
Class:
Race:
Human
Experience:
27%
Alignment:
Good
Reputation:
20
Fame:
15,155
Bounty:
0
Attributes-
Strength:
1
Constitution:
1(31)
Dexterity:
11(41)
Intelligence:
11(41)
Agility:
7(37)
Wisdom:
1
Stamina:
1(31)
Charisma:
64(124)
Time to see what Prince Charming can do.
Trailing along behind him came Nadine and Isabelle. Nadine wanted to keep an eye on him, and Isabelle was here to be the guinea pig.
“Right, then,” Runner casually said over his shoulder. “I’ve given up on the idea of ever being anything but second, or even third place, to everyone else. I shall endeavor to become a master of my own bailiwick.”
Among the open fields that ran in every direction for miles were small valleys. Small enough to hide a scouting element or monsters, or someone who did not wish to be seen. They now stood in one such gully between two raised mounds.
Turning to face the women, he smiled broadly and cocked his head to one side.
“Isabelle, as I said earlier, I’d like to use you as a test subject for some spells. They’re non-damaging, but they’ll affect your status and your self-control. You can decline this request. You don’t have to do this.”
The whump of cannons could be heard in the distance as he talked. Practice would give the gunners confidence, even if they did not realize it yet.
“I’m honored to participate, my lord,” Isabelle said eagerly.
Runner had been working with Srit to build a repertoire of spells based on social interactions and Spell Weaving.
Many of the spells he had made with her were grounded in and based on already existing spells in other schools of magic. These new spells used charisma as the modifier instead of intelligence.
The work itself had been very similar to his previous spell work. Truly, the main difference had been the difficulty in understanding the result. There was no way for the system to give him a tool tip, or even a suggestion, since he had gone far astray from the original limits.
There was another entire line of spells he’d have to work on next: using charisma to push people in a meta-physical sense. Like telling people to be well and them suddenly healing. Or telling people to run faster, and they actually would.
Hence the testing and the need for more down the road.
There were a few more interesting toys he had been working on that wouldn’t be brought out today. Armored transports with hard points for portable Splatterhouse cannons.
Handheld Splatterhouse rifles with a much smaller explosive round.
Giant tubes that would launch huge Splatterhouse rounds as an indirect fire method. Vastly more akin to twentieth-century mortars than anything else.
Even self-propelled artillery.
Much of the arsenal he was working on happened to be with the idea in mind of arming the peasantry. Crafters. Villagers. People without a true class and who might never have the luxury of changing that. If he could arm them, he could tap into a resource of soldiers most would disregard.
History had shown a drastic shift in the way wars were fought once a peasant could pull a trigger and kill a trained knight.
Today he planned on working on the magical side only.
Bringing up the test spell he had tentatively called Fear, Runner targeted Isabelle. He flicked his fingers out towards her, and the tightly coiled spell of Intimidate and Persuade flew at her.
Otherlife Nightmares: The Selfless Hero Trilogy Page 14