Otherlife Nightmares: The Selfless Hero Trilogy

by William D. Arand

  Miraculously, they had also finished the final group assignments for the entirety of the battalion. Broken into groups of five, they were all relatively balanced to survive encounters without the aid of other groups. Though that took quite a bit more work on the whole.

  Anyone could be part of multiple raid groups. Utilizing this detail, Runner had moved them into groups, moving those groups into raid squads, those squads into platoons, the platoons to companies, and the companies to a battalion.

  Katarina and Isabelle each sat at the top of a company.

  For the most part it had worked out beautifully.

  Unfortunately, an example had to be made of someone. One noble in particular. She had refused all attempts to have her work with others and join the requisite groups.

  Runner grew tired of it in the first hour and sent her back to the king with a letter explaining her failings. Runner had made it clear to her that a second letter would be reaching the king from his own hand about the situation as a whole. Said letter would, of course, reiterate her recalcitrance at accepting his orders.

  At that point she had tried to backpedal and do as he had originally instructed. Which fell on deaf ears. He had no patience to spare for time wasters.

  There were no further questions regarding their grouping after that.

  Sunless nobles, men-at-arms, ranged attackers, support types, and even mercenaries they had hired along the way. They were all mixed together, jumbled up, and accepted it rather than face the same fate as the woman who was being sent back like a defective product.

  Leaning back in his chair, Runner let his arms hang down at his sides. The back of his head rested on the top of the chair, and his face pointed to the ceiling of the tent.

  “I hate logistics. I’m not made for it, never understood it. Never have, never will either. When I did officer training, I only ever managed slightly above average grades in organization.” Runner sighed. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he continued. “Strategy and planning? I’m pretty confident in my abilities. Making sure everyone is paid and fed? Rather fuck an angry porcupine.”

  “Should I find some quills and glue them to Hannah, Master Runner? I’m sure it would rile her up to the point of murder. Angry for certain.”

  Barking out a short laugh, Runner shook his head. Thana’s wit and tone were further and further afield. Far from the prim little noble girl he’d rescued from a cage.

  “I think with that statement alone you’ve been spending too much time with Hanners. I’m surprised you’d want to watch me make a move on an angry Hanners porcupine. That or you’ve always been this way and hid it better.”

  “Could be I want to see her carve you up like a goose. Or I enjoy teasing you more since our garden tea party.”

  “That, too. Belle, is there anything I’m missing?” Runner asked, desperate to change the subject.

  “No, my lord. Everything is in order for tomorrow. I cannot help but express my concern for being a co-commander in this. I don’t feel particularly ready. I appreciate your confidence, but I’m concerned.”

  Standing from his seat, he did his best to hide his irritation at the title. Hopefully she would drop it eventually. If you took the way she spoke and put it on paper, you could tell it was her by the constant “my lords.”

  “I’ll be too busy for much of the fight, I won’t be able to hold a steady hand over it all. I need hands to do my bidding. You and Kitten will be fine. Lady Death and I will run herd on our overarching strategy.”

  Pushing his fists into his back, he stretched himself out. A part of him wished he could feel the pop of his joints. Cracking your knuckles held no meaning when they did not pop anymore.

  “As you will, my lordly lord.”

  “See? I’m not the only one who enjoys teasing you,” Thana said with a smile in her voice. She stood up daintily, easing the chair from the table.

  Runner briefly considered Thana and Isabelle before emptying bits and pieces of short swords onto the table in front of him.

  “I’m going to go find Nadine and help prepare dinner.”

  “Cheater. You still owe me a cooked meal from your own hands. You’re using her as a teacher rather than helping her.”

  “Indeed, and you secretly love being outplayed.” Thana came in close and kissed his cheek. Runner had no chance to react and stood there like a stunned sheep. Thana did not linger and stepped out of the tent without another word.

  “Even were I able to bend a pantheon to my will, I would never get her to do what I wanted,” muttered Runner.

  “What was that, my lord?”

  “Nothing, Belle.”

  Grunting, he picked two sets of hilts and pommels.

  “May I watch, my lord?”

  “If you must, though I won’t exactly be very conversational.”

  “That’s fine. I…I want to watch you. Watch you work,” Isabelle clarified.

  Runner looked up at her and quirked a brow. Green eyes watched him, daring him to say no.

  Going to have that conversation about not having room for more women in my life soon. No Vacancy. Sorry for hitting you with a seduction spell hard enough you looked like you needed to change your panties. Even if you are beautiful and look like an elven supermodel and good God do I need to get laid.

  Pushing his wandering and unfaithful mind aside, he concentrated on Isabelle.

  “If that’s your will.”

  Runner set about his work and bound the pommels and hilts with dexterity. There was no point in balancing her stats for anything other than damage. Her entire goal lay around the idea of exploding her enemies. Deleting them in a single exchange of blows if possible.

  Picking up the crossguards, he set one with Fireblast and the other with Stunner. Damage was damage after all.

  He set the completed hilts aside and picked up the three-piece sectional blades. Nadine had picked them up back in Shade’s Rest. There were three bars of Dark Iron left in his stock. Other than that, he had three bars of Silver that weren’t earmarked for other projects.

  Much, if not all, of his other metals were already tied up in plans for a suit of armor for Katarina. She seemed fond of her black blade, so he had been buying metals and armor parts that would go well with it.

  He laid the three bars of Dark Iron atop the two outer pieces of one sword and the middle section of the other. He did the same for the Silver, but in reverse. Should this work, they would end up looking like negatives of each other.

  All six bars had been bound with dexterity. Each section of the short swords had also received dexterity as the attached stat.

  The swift movements of his hands melted the individual sword parts into their respective bars and then deftly back into a rough approximation of their original shape in mere minutes. Skill and speed had come with repetition and practice.

  Isabelle kept quiet for the most part. A gasp or two slipped from her lips as he worked the glowing hot metal into shape with only his fingers.

  Fitting the six pieces into two separate blades, he welded them together with his Arcane Smithing. The finished blades were striking in their simplicity.

  The first was edged in white with a black center. The second edged in black with a white center. Fitting each blade into its prospective hilt, he heat welded them in place.

  With a click, they firmed up and become solid. Next Runner set about with the finishing touches for the blades.

  A quick cast of Stonehands gave him the strength to grind out the edges. And each received a keen edge that he ground out between his fingers.

  Satisfied that they were razor sharp, he began inspecting the flat of the blade. Fingertips brushed back and forth over the fine welding lines to polish out any imperfections.

  Finally, to him at least, it seemed the blades looked complete and ready. The last touch was his red hilt wrappings.

  Runner pulled the cloth free from his inventory and began to wind the black-centered blade first. Pausing before he finished, he bound
Disarm into the cloth.

  Skillfully, he tied the cloth in place, yet he still gave it a quick dash of agility epoxy. As it began to mist over, he set it down to one side and took up the second short sword.

  While he quietly worked at the wrapping, the dull sound of artifact creation registered in his ear. He glanced at the first blade to confirm its state, then returned his attention to the one in his hands.

  Imprinting the cloth with Fade, he tied it up in place and sealed it with the epoxy. Almost immediately it began to mist over.

  Runner set the blade down next to its mate and stood up, barely resisting the urge to stretch his back out, which would provide him no relief. He instead put one hand on his head and the other on his hip.

  “I’ll need to find Hanners after this and hand them over. I wonder what she’ll name them. I hadn’t meant for them to turn out so damned artsy fartsy cliche. She’ll call me on it for sure,” Runner grumped.

  Then there was a new blade sitting next to the black one, the successful creation sound ringing again.

  “You’re amazing, my lord. Truly amazing.”

  “Mm? Not really. Broken. Like I said, give it time, I’ll outfit you in the same. Now…”

  Scooping up the blades, he inspected them. There were no blemishes—the rough edges and the minor misshapen bends were gone.

  Gloriously perfect, beautifully deadly. Checking the black-core blade, he pulled up the item description.

  Item:

  Effects-

  Fireblast: Chance to deal burning damage on hit.

  Functions-

  Disarm: Disarms your targeted opponent for five seconds, or upon recovery of weapon.

  Cooldown: 30 seconds

  Attributes-

  Dexterity: 30

  Agility: 3

  Dismissing the window with a nod of his head, he inspected the white-core blade.

  Item:

  Effects-

  Stunner: Chance to stun opponent on hit.

  Functions-

  Fade: Temporarily reduce your threat level.

  Cooldown: 30 seconds

  Attributes-

  Dexterity: 30

  Agility: 3

  Grunting, he dropped them unceremoniously onto the table and stared at them. His mind began to wander on the possibilities of his crafting.

  Weapons, armor, potions, and materials all were available to him.

  What about buildings? Could I make a wall out of twenty different types of bricks? Or even…vehicles maybe? Could I make a tank?

  Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he made a mental note to talk to Srit later.

  Selecting the “Hannah” command he had set up in his hotbar, he activated it twice. His location was pinged on the minimap for Hannah alone.

  After that little run-in with Bullard, he had demanded everyone create a series of commands, alarms, and pings. For each of them as individuals and as a group.

  A single ping atop his location came back from Hannah. She was en route.

  “Hanners will be here momentarily. After that, we should actually be able to settle in for the night and get some rest for tomorrow. Big day and all. I’m betting some of our fair noble ladies get stage fright. Hopefully no casualties. Never know though.”

  “I’ll stay atop them, my lord. I’ll repay your trust and attention tenfold.”

  Runner idly waved a hand at her.

  “Stop that. I’m not a lord. We’ve had this discussion. I’m tempted to order you not to do it, but I think Lady Brunhild and Lady Ernsta would only laugh at me if I tried to enforce it.”

  “Probably. You’re a bit of an asshole at the best of times. A real shit at the worst of times. I imagine they wait eagerly for chances to drop you a peg. I know I do,” said Hannah, stepping into the tent.

  “Love you, too, sweetheart. You’re always good at giving me the warm and fuzzies. Here, presents for you. I didn’t name them, I figured maybe you’d like to yourself,” Runner explained, pointing at the two short swords.

  Hannah smirked and came over to the table, her hands quickly closing around the two red hilts. Her eyes rested on the space in front of her, which could only be the item box for each.

  “Impressive. I almost feel guilty for earlier. Almost.”

  “Make it up to me later. Or better yet, I’m sure Thana and Katarina are getting sick of playing nursemaid. I feel like I’m imposing on them at times. Feel free to offer to take a turn in the evening,” Runner admitted.

  Hannah and Isabelle both turned a deep red at his comment. Neither would meet his eyes, one focusing on her new weapons, the other her boots.

  They both knew about it, though he doubted either had ever actually talked about it.

  “What? The nightmares are getting worse. It takes a bit for me to figure out where I am by myself,” he explained.

  Sighing, he rested his hands behind his head, trying to relax.

  Runner.

  “Yes, Srit, my one true love? The only one who seems to care about my feelings. I admit you never have good news for me, but you do care,” Runner said. He felt a hitch developing in his chest. Srit really never did have good news.

  I am sorry. Jacob has told the crew about Ted, Michael, Jeff, Vick, James, Ben, and Devon.

  Runner let his head hang, his chin resting on his chest and his arms falling slack to his sides. The hitch in his chest turned into an icy numbness.

  Of course he has.

  Chapter 9 - Two Steps Back -

  4:51 pm Sovereign Earth time

  11/13/43

  “How did he even find out?”

  I believe he tapped into a data stream and was using it to view the server log. The log out messages would make it obvious something was happening. This is merely supposition as I do not have proof. It is what I would do, though.

  Groaning, Runner pulled up the system screen and locked out every system that tied into the game itself.

  He could not fix what Jacob already knew, but he could prevent him from getting more. Thankfully, with his IT credentials there was little Jacob could do to get around the lockout.

  No longer caring, he opened the command line for the system console.

  Fuck him, eject his ass onto an operating slab. Sell him to Srit for a handy from an alien engineer. I’ll have Srit give them an example from her vast library of porn.

  /Status Chesed, Jacob

  User: CheJac001 logged in

  /Where * POD UserName(CheJac001)

  Pod: 23,178

  /Status POD 23,178

  █L █O █A █D █ I █N█G█

  ALERT: POD 23,178 is unresponsive.

  It is not part of the network.

  Runner frowned, staring at the alert. Jacob could access the network, yet his pod was not part of the network?

  Flying through commands and prompts, Runner worked to track down the how and the when.

  Ten minutes later he honestly was not any closer to finding an answer to either, though he did find the how in Jacob’s personnel file. A truly interesting read it was, too. Jacob had been incarcerated for computer fraud and abuse. Multiple times. Which meant he was a hacker.

  The last one, which ended up as a terrorist charge, bought him a one-way ticket to a planet he would surely die on.

  Every system now had quadruple authorizations needed. Password, token, command key, and Runner’s permission.

  Runner was fairly confident in his abilities as far as locking people out went. He felt certain he had curtailed anything Jacob hoped to accomplish.

  Tighter than the military’s purse strings.

  Pressing his hand to his eyes, he closed the windows and tried to catch up to the current situation again.

  Jacob was a problem. Even without confronting Runner directly he was proving himself to be a dangerous adversary.

  His mind wandered dangerously close to the dark corner his morality hid in lately. He was doing his best to kick the little voice further down. The
one that wanted to remind him he had been willing to murder Jacob a moment ago.

  “Srit, how bad is it?”

  They are assembling in the Human capital city. They have created a guild and have over three hundred thousand members.

  “I see.”

  Their goal is to kill you and regain control of the ship. If you are dead, you cannot fight their system requests.

  “Is that all?” Runner asked, despairing that there was indeed more.

  Jacob attempted to Awaken Lambart. It was not entirely successful. Lambart has started to move his clergy into action. As well as selecting Jacob as his champion. I am unsure how he even managed to do as much as he did.

  Laughing, Runner sat down heavily on his ass.

  “Runner?!”

  “My lord!”

  There is no way to describe how bad this is. What do I do now? What do I do…?

  Hannah knelt in front of him, her hands pressed to his cheeks. He felt his eyes lock onto hers, his mind slowing down in its frantic and desperate death spiral.

  “Runner, talk to me. Something happened, right? Srit gave you some news and you went all finger wiggly for a while and now this.”

  “Jacob told everyone about those I’ve killed. The crew is massing to kill me to take control of the ship. Over three hundred thousand so far,” Runner said brokenly. “I tried to eject him for it. He somehow managed to put himself in a state where I can’t access him. I should have listened to you.”

  “You know I’m the first one to say I told you so when I can. In this case, Runner, I’m glad you didn’t listen. You’re a good man and you’re making hard choices right now.”