Redeemer of the Dead

by Tao Wong

  After training, it’s always hunting, working to keep the monster population down and gain further experience and Credits to fix Sabre. Putting the mecha back together—or better than it was—is expensive. Without Sabre, I spend a portion of each day just getting to appropriately leveled locations, but at least I’m getting a decent Skill in running. I keep going till late at night or my Altered Space is filled, whichever comes first, then I head into Whitehorse and do a quick dump. If it’s still early enough, I’m out again to hunt.

  Being in Whitehorse, I start seeing the things Lana spoke of and some that she didn’t. The bulletin board of the missing always seems to have just a few new faces as people disappear into the woods. Or the corpses of those who don’t even bother going that far, leaving their bodies in the shelters for others to dispose of. People who have just given up, who can no longer handle this new world.

  Then there’s the lazy, the incompetent, and the cheats who refuse to help out, living off the largesse of everyone else. I see the occasional fist fights, the shouting matches that Amelia and the other guards have to put a stop to. No surprise there’s more than a little resentment over the lack of help.

  The City Council has even gone as far as creating their own court system, overseen by one over-worked ex-judge. He does his best to mediate issues among the population. He tackles everything from ownership and living arrangements, custody battles between families, to figuring out foster care situations for those who need it. Once in a while, he even has to deal with real crimes—theft, a few rapes, beatings, and shakedowns that escape the attention of Roxley’s guards or are just never brought to their attention.

  Most of all, worst of all, is the way those with combat classes and everyone else are segregating into the haves and have-nots. The tensions just get worse and worse as the stores that open cater mostly to the combat classers. No big surprise, they’re the only ones with any Credit. Everyone else is busy saving up to buy their own place to live, to get a little bit more food or other necessities. That doesn’t stop people from resenting the combat classers or their fortune.

  There’s nothing I can do about it. Not really. So I just go out and do my thing—fighting and killing and attempting to save enough Credits to finally fix up Sabre. Which means killing this ugly bastard.

  Mountain Troll (Level 52)

  HP: 3580/3580

  This monster is over ten feet tall, rocky gray, and covered with warts. An extra-long nose and a hunched back, along with a rocky club, complete the ensemble. After hunting them for the last few days, I now know more about Troll physiology than I ever want to —including why they’re so angry all the time. I’d be angry too if I was that lacking in that department.

  My first shot takes it in the right knee, the second its left. I keep crouched after crippling the creature, my beam rifle blasting open and searing wounds closed as I get to work killing it. The monster is tough though, its resistances to energy significantly reducing the damage I’m dishing out, and its natural regeneration fixes my initial onslaught.

  As the troll lurches toward me on all fours, it picks up real speed and I flick the rifle back into my inventory. Hands free, I cast my Improved Mana Dart spell, creating four glowing blue darts that shoot forward as I flick my hand at the creature. I grin wolfishly as the Troll staggers, its resistances utterly useless against the Mana Darts.

  I summon another four and repeat the process, doing so two more times before I charge to meet it face to face. As we close, I use Blade Strike to catch the monster before he can reach me, then I duck beneath the first swing, slicing upward with my sword and shearing through muscle. I spin around as we cross each other’s path, laying its back open before the Troll can turn, then I kick it away from me. Now with enough space, I focus on Cleave and swing down with full force, the sword picking up a red-and-blue glow that sheathes the blade. The cut takes the creature straight on, opening it from shoulder to hip. Before it can recover, I swing again and trigger Cleave once more, leaving a giant bloody X on the Troll’s body.

  It’s not enough to kill it though, and the Troll swings its club, using the momentum from my attack to smash into my leg. Only a last-minute move keeps my knee from shattering, but I end up on the ground, kicking up dirt as I slide a good ten feet. I bite my lip, a rush of pure adrenaline shooting through my body. Gods, but I love fighting.

  When the Troll closes in on me and starts its swing down, I call forth my sword and make sure it’s right where the Troll’s arm will be, letting it impale itself on my sword. I leave the blade in its arm, kicking on its knee to push myself away and give me momentum. I roll to my feet just before I charge it.

  Our next clash is very different since I stop trying to overpower it, instead dancing around the creature. All those hours training and fighting has helped me develop an innate understanding of combat that the System download didn’t impart. I turn aside blows, dodge under or around them, and always, always chip away at its health. Whenever I have a moment, I throw another set of Mana Darts into its face. In the end, the Troll falls over, dead as can be.

  Breathing hard, I chop the head off the monster just in case and kick the body once more. I loot it then dump the body back into my Altered Space before slowly stretching and waiting for the broken ribs to heal fully. Pain and adrenaline, my constant companions these days. I find myself grinning, knowing that this Troll finished the Quest I’ve been running for Sally. Seems like Troll Blood is in high-demand among alchemists.

  In the distance, I see something white against the clear blue sky. As first I think it’s just a cloud, but something tells me to look closer.

  Ali, drawn by my focused attention, follows my gaze then yelps. “Hide!”

  I move, months of constant danger making me duck toward the nearest tree and shrink down as tight as I can get. When I’m as hidden as I’m going to get, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

  “Dragon.”

  “Shit.” I reach out mentally for the QSM before Ali growls at me.

  “Don’t. It’ll attract his attention. They can see between dimensions.”

  My eyes widen. That’s the first I’ve ever heard of something being able to do that naturally. I slowly poke my head around the corner as I hit the magnification in my helmet. The dragon jumps in size, pure white with an elongated neck and wings that triple its width. Above its head floats its status bar.

  Dragon (Level ???)

  HP: ???/???

  “Ali? Shouldn’t it be a winter dragon or something?”

  “That’s all the information I have, boy-o. Way too high level for me to extract information from the System.”

  “What’s it doing here?” Hell, I knew we were in a high-level zone, but this area isn’t that bad…

  “Best guess? It’s probably hunting. I doubt the Kluane Icefields are that populated yet.”

  I wince, nodding slowly. It makes sense that the Icefields would have something truly nasty there—it was the largest icefield in the world outside of the poles. But does it have to go hunting while I’m around?

  I curl down further and get ready to wait. At least it’s not likely to have seen me, being as far away as it is. It does remind me how big a gap there is, between the true Powers of this world and piddly little beginners like me.

  Hours later, the dragon has gone and I’m jogging back from the east on the other side of the river, having decided to take the long way round just in case. I shake my head as I consider how easy it would be for the monsters to run into Riverdale itself. As a suburb of Whitehorse, there’s no wall, no good way to stop anyone from just walking in. It’s why there are checkpoints at the bridges and the roads entering the city. Still, if we ever got hit by a swarm, those who live in Riverdale would be in real trouble.

  Crossing the bridge, I absently nod to the fishermen who line the path to Sally’s. At her shop, I find an attendant watching over the front, and when I make myself known, I’m ushered into the backroom where Sally keeps her workshop. It only takes a
few seconds for the four-foot-tall Gnome to string up the entire Troll and plug in various tubes to begin the draining process. When that’s done, she flashes me a grin and I get my notification.

  Quest Complete (Troll’s Blood)

  Retrieve 40 Liters of Troll’s Blood for Sally

  Rewards: 2 Tier II Health Regeneration Potions, 2 Tier II Mana Regeneration Potions, 2,000 XP

  “Thank you. Any other requests?” I ask.

  She snorts, shaking her head. “Not until you upgrade your herb lore, you big lug.” Sally waggles her finger at me, eyes twinkling. “I still don’t believe you brought back Jarsik Weed.”

  “It looked exactly like what you asked for!” I protest.

  “If you are blind and stupid, sure.”

  I roll my eyes and admit defeat. Seriously, it looked exactly the same. Though truth be told, I’m okay not playing gardener. The one day I spent poking around looking for herbs for Sally was an utter waste of time. Nearly ninety percent of what I brought back was useless, which meant I didn’t even get halfway to completing her Quest. I could buy the skill in the Shop, but really, I’d rather just kill something. “Fine. Call me if you need anything killed.”

  She grins, pushing me out. “Out, I got work to do!”

  My next stop is the butchering yard, where I drop the last of my day’s earnings. As I make my way down the street afterward, I notice a commotion at the entrance to the city council’s offices. I push my way through the crowd, picking up scattered words. Luthien’s back.

  I almost walk away when I hear my ex’s name, but after a moment’s hesitation, I push forward. I might not want to see her, but the Raven’s Circle was our highest leveled group before they left for Dawson. Something had happened on the trip there and what should have been a couple of days away had become weeks.

  “Jim?” I catch the eye of the hunter as he glares at everyone milling around, his presence sufficient to keep most back.

  The older First Nation gentleman’s face is lined even further than normal, his dark eyes filled with worry as he shifts, still clad in his hunting gear. It’s a mix of old and new, a simple one-piece nano-woven jumpsuit with armor plating at appropriate locations, covered by a gray hunting vest for additional weaponry and gear, and his favored rifle and knife at his side. Pretty standard fare for the combat classes these days.

  “John,” the elder answers, and at my raised eyebrow, he beckons me over.

  I see a few people glare at me, but I ignore it. It’s good to have a few favors owed. “Luthien’s back?”

  “Yes.” Jim frowns at the group that surrounds us, waiting to hear something. He seems to debate saying more before he continues. “Seven people came back. Four strangers and three of the Circle.”

  “Who?” I say softly, knowing that at least Nic is dead. His house stopped being a Safe Zone about three days after they left, which is when we knew for sure something had gone wrong.

  “Luthien, Kevin, and Tim.” Before I can ask, he adds. “The other four, that’s all that’s left of Dawson.”

  The words are like a punch to the gut of those who hear him. Those in the front of the group fall silent, only answering those behind after repeated requests. The words spread like wildfire, reactions wild and varied. Some nod, accepting what they probably feared. Others deny the words and get angry, while others break down crying.

  Including the Circle, eleven people left to visit Dawson and see what good they could do. The Circle had asked for volunteers and some—the brave and the desperate—joined them. Eleven people left and only three of ours came back. My lips purse and Jim meets my gaze, obviously having done the math himself. This is the kind of trade-off we feared. Worst, we had lost two of our highest level fighters in this stupid expedition, all because the damn woman wanted to show off again.

  As I draw in a deep breath, forcing down the anger, the door opens. I turn to look and spot a man I’ve never seen before stride out as if he owns it all. A good 6’4”, middle-aged with a strong jaw and a brown, crewcut hairstyle, he’s handsome in a “human” way, someone you’d see walking down the street rather than in the movies. Ali frowns slightly, twitching his hand as the man appears, and information blooms above his head.

  Bill Cross (Level 46 Enforcer)

  HP: 1400/1400

  Interesting Class. Behind him, a familiar face. Luthien—my ex—walks behind him, just a little too close. Tall, thin, blond, and pretty with pointy ears, she strides out and I spot more than one admiring gaze roam over her body. I almost want to wave and shout “Run, run for your life,” but that’s a touch too dramatic. And petty. Luthien’s clad in tight leather pants and a corset-like armor piece that covers her upper body quite well.

  Luthien Celbrindal (Level 38 Sorceress)

  HP: 540/540

  My eyes narrow, lips tightening as I scan the rest of the group as they come out. People make way, pushing back to let the newcomers exit while Jim and I are forgotten. The entire group has incredibly high levels, all in the high 30s or low 40s. As Kevin and Tim bring up the back of the line, I can’t help but notice their slumped shoulders, tight lips, and hangdog expressions, along with the slight hesitation in their steps. There’s a distance between Kevin and Luthien that wasn’t there before they left. I almost think the man might be smarting up enough to realize how dangerous a relationship with her is. Almost. As Tim clears the doorway, I hear more than a few drawn breaths as people spot his half-dragon form. I’d almost forgotten he had his race changed—he’s been gone so long.

  “Where’s everyone else?” a voice calls out from the crowd when no more people exit.

  The crowd stills for an answer, hoping against hope.

  “I’m sorry. We’re all that’s left of Dawson,” Bill says, his voice clear and loud. “We’re all that survived, and if the Circle hadn’t come, we’d be dead too.”

  Murmurs run through the crowd, a few people peeling away.

  “I don’t believe you! My son was in Dawson. He wouldn’t die,” a woman screams, pushing to the front of the crowd.

  “I don’t lie. There’s no one left alive in Dawson.” Bill glares at the woman for a moment before he shakes his head, the glare disappearing. “I’m sorry, but they’re all dead. The monsters, we couldn’t fight them all.”

  The woman screams a denial then launches herself at Bill, fingers curled into claws that she swings at his face. Before she can reach him, Luthien raises a hand and bonds of air grip the woman, holding her in place as she screams and struggles. Ugly sounds come from the crowd before the guards led by Amelia arrive.

  “That’s it, everyone. Show’s over. Time to get going.” Amelia grabs and pushes people away, as do the other guards, all of them radiating a subtle menace that I recognize as a Skill.

  Many of the people grabbed protest then see the look in the Truinnar guards’ eyes and shudder before moving off. The crowd disperses quickly with the guards there. Jim taps Luthien’s arm, gesturing to the distraught mother. Sniffing in disdain, Luthien flicks her hand and the woman collapses into Jim’s waiting hands. She struggles for a moment, but as he continues to hug her, she stills, finally just crying.

  “Nice town,” Bill drawls softly to his group, probably thinking no one can hear him in the commotion.

  Standing next to the wall, unmoving and forgotten, I do. A few of the group titter while Tim shifts uncomfortably before he pushes away to walk up the street.

  “Tim!” Kevin says, moving to grab his friend.

  “Let him go,” Bill barks, shaking his head. “We don’t need weaklings like him.”

  Luthien nods firmly when Kevin hesitates, biting his lip. When her boyfriend finally turns aside, Bill smiles at Luthien, who preens slightly. It’s so subtle, someone who wasn’t watching for it and who didn’t know her would never see.

  Oh, you poor bastard. For a moment, I almost pity Kevin. Almost. When the crowd has dispersed enough, Bill leads the group off, stopping only long enough to speak with Amelia to thank her befor
e they head out.

  Well, this is going to be interesting.

  Chapter 7

  As momentous as the news about Dawson City was, life settled back into the norm soon enough. Bill and his group moved into the Circle’s old house, repurchasing the house from the System with little fanfare. Since then, they’ve made themselves scarce in terms of their interaction with the local population. Outside of hitting the Shops and occasionally the Nugget, the group seems to be focused on hunting and leveling. Of course, I hear there’s a little tension there since they refuse to bring back food for the pot and deal directly with the low-level Alchemists and Sally when they have parts to sell. As I understand it, Fred was rebuffed when he tried to talk to them about helping out the City. Seems like the time it takes to drag back corpses isn’t worth the payout. That does at least explain their levels somewhat. If they’re focusing only on leveling, it’s no surprise that they’re slightly higher than most of us.

  Truth be told, I can see the appeal. Go out, kill, level. It’s the only way to stay safe, to be safe. Strength is power and safety in this world, and strength comes from Credits and Levels. At least, that’s what more and more hunters are saying. Goodwill gets you only so far, and the hunters under Jim have started fracturing, some following the Circle’s example and refusing to hunt for the pot anymore. Many point out that there’s more than enough food these days, pointing to the stores of meat and vegetables as the farms come in. The Council’s charts and explanations get thrown by the wayside—the simple fact that they can see the stores are more convincing proof to them. Anyway, they know the City could just buy more food from the Shop directly if they needed it.

  When I see the Council individually or in a group, I almost pity them. The strain is beginning to show, the pressures of keeping the city together beginning to pull them apart. More and more people are blaming the Council as monsters continue to spawn in the town, even if we aren’t losing people to those attacks anymore. More and more people are wondering why they’re being asked to contribute Credits when they see so little results.