by Arthur Stone
Rocky didn’t know what he meant by that. He assumed, of course, that “Rome” was short for “Romeo.” Perhaps the founder had some special skill that could help in a fight with an attacking group of infecteds. But that didn’t matter right now. The gang’s boss had taken a rod to the brain, dropped to his knees, and was in the business of falling to his side, his eyes and tongue convulsing violently.
Kitty had been right. The speed at which the flakes could poison a man was impressive.
Globes was farther away, but that didn’t save him. The rod drilled right into Rocky’s target at the back of his neck.
It had all worked out even better than he could have hoped. Rocky had dreamed of just getting Romeo by some lucky coincidence, but fortune had smiled on him, allowing him to issue well-deserved judgment on another scoundrel, as well.
Perhaps the man’s local resurrection limit was exhausted. Good. Then he would be far away from Kitty.
Without so much as a glance at the collapsing Globes, Rocky bolted, slipping around one of the grunts whose job it had been to watch the prisoner. Perhaps that grunt’s level was massive, but he had been gaping at the distraction like any old zero, and so he had missed the crucial move.
Sadly, Rocky had no rods left. He had taken a brash enough risk hiding two under that bandage. The fact that they had not been found during the search was a miracle of luck. Bringing more rods would have decreased his chances even further. All he had now was his bare hands, so he leaped on the mental. Perhaps the man’s power had all gone straight to his brain, leaving him physically frail.
That was a tragic misestimation, but Rocky realized it too late. And as before, this game still had no Undo button. The mental spun as quickly as a top, throwing his right arm out to intercept Rocky’s incoming bulk. The blow was crushing. His vision and everything else went black at once, as something snapped in his neck and his whole spinal column down to his tailbone exploded in pain. He went out screaming.
A moment—or perhaps an eternity—later, Rocky began to recover. He was vaguely aware that he lay in the dust on the side of the road. He was not yet dead, but his body was slow to respond above his belt and fully numb below it. He wanted to lie back, immobile, staring at the sky and the dim, indifferent light of the sun.
But so much was happening around him. Somehow, he could hear even through the cast-iron plugs someone had apparently planted in his ears to aid his sleep. The mental who had executed such a spectacular knockout was, for reasons unknown, lying next to him, missing his left arm at the shoulder and part of his chest, with bone fragments protruding from the monstrous wound and part of his collapsed lung flapping in the breeze. The pickup had lost its machine gun, and the cab looked like a party of drunken vandals with sledgehammers had decided to turn it into a convertible. A human leg lay next to the vehicle, and a few steps away, on the miserable grass, a bloody, infected carcass writhed in agony. It looked very much like the ghoul in the town that he had shot in the mouth.
Another infected, a little less developed than the dying one, ran past. As it did, it reached out its left claw and easily ripped Rocky’s guts clean out, but it did no more damage. It was twitching from a volley of gunshot wounds and thus lost interest in its crippled prey, turning its efforts towards those still attacking it.
Rocky was hardly surprised that he felt no pain. The mental’s hit had put an end to his fifth life. His body was too damaged to even feel injuries.
Not bad. This had been the longest and most interesting life yet. And what a finish! Now at last he could respawn with some sense of accomplishment.
He was satisfied. Thanks to Romeo, he finally felt happy. The shocking dose of poison dealt by the crafty newcomer who had seemed so harmless would send the monster immune to a different region entirely, his local respawn limit exhausted. Perhaps it would be thousands of miles away from here, far from any chance to get his paws on Kitty. The reptile might someday find a loophole, a way back, but even so, Rocky had seriously improved the girl’s odds.
The ghouls that had eviscerated him failed to reach the men shooting it, collapsing on the scorched grass and staining it red with blood in an instant. It was only fifty feet from the bulk of the opposition, the open-body truck, which was rattling its frame with the recoil of its heavy machine gun. The man at the gun wielded his weapon with incredible skill, fending off the mighty infecteds coming in from all sides. He ignored the smaller ones, as a rule, leaving them to the four surviving machine gunners. Those four were stationed at the corners of the truck. They fired without ceasing. The land around was strewn with the carcasses of slain humans and beasts. The latter had been significantly thinned out. Rocky, in his fading thoughts, could tell that this was a pack, not a horde of thousands of tens of thousands, which Kitty had said was a common occurrence in regions far away from the sea.
During his time of unconsciousness after the mental’s attack, Rocky had missed the bulk of the massacre. But now he could see that, despite their incredible losses, the humans were winning. The most dangerous ghouls were nowhere to be seen. The worst of the survivors looked scary enough, but that large-caliber machine gun could easily take them out with one or two short bursts. The rest, though there were many of them, were too weak and slow. They had arrived late, and now were deprived of all support from their slain bigger brothers. Now they were only capable of falling en masse under the endless volleys.
Yet Rocky’s mutilated body and mind refused to die, and he witnessed the grand finale. The people won—only once was their fate in doubt, when the machine gun went silent and the last strong creature charged the truck, along with the others. One of the submachine gunners slung his weapon behind is backed and suicidally ran to meet the beast. A mere instant before his death, he threw up his hands, and an unnatural colorful flashing caused the monster to howl and claw at its eyes painfully, then run blindly for a moment and crash into the armored vehicle, almost tipping it. Somehow, the man who had dazed the beast drew his pistol and shot the partially-covered mound on the back of its head.
What the hell was that? One of the fantastic skills people had in this crazy world.
It certainly benefitted the man. But it spent too much of his energy. He barely managed to get his machine gun up to take down a small, quick dead man, the kind with the razor teeth.
That was it. The infecteds never had another chance. Within a minute, the attack broke apart as the monsters’ numbers fell to near zero. The attack had started right, but then failed to follow through.
But the shooting didn’t stop. The machine gunners started moving over the battlefield, finishing off any of the creatures still twitching. They used pistols or melee weapons. Everyone had a sword or ax, and one had an open weapon that looked like some kind of fancy pickax. The men tried to strike the beasts in the back of the head, and when that failed, they hit them in the skull. Meanwhile, the machine gunner covered them, swiveling his weapon in all directions.
A pair of submachine gunners got within a dozen yards of Rocky. He overheard their conversation.
“Come on Bolt, we still have to loot them and get out of here.”
“We got time, brother. Swede’s on the machine gun, and when he’s armed with that thing, he’s a god. There won’t be another pack like this one for miles. He can handle whatever comes.”
“Jabba had that ability, too. And he’s gone.”
The other machine gunner tensed. “Jabba? No, there weren’t even any manmincers in this crowd. The worst I saw were biters. So who killed Jabba?”
Rocky could see the answer to that question, in all its glory, far behind the two conversationalists. It was flying through the air, towards the truck, the mother of all monsters. He could spend an entire book describing it and still not do it justice. It was an overgrown rhinoceros dinosaur covered in massive armor plates from head to toe. The heavy protection had no apparent effect on its speed and agility. The spikes protruding from its body looked like afterthoughts, with which someone had for
some reason designed to decorate the world’s most monstrous creature.
It hurtled through the vehicle, swinging its paw casually at the machine gunner, who had nearly turned to face it in time. The middle of the man’s body exploded in red and purple, and his torso flew out onto the field, while his legs remained standing, for a moment unaware of what had transpired.
The multi-ton beast defied the laws of physics as it cleared the field at such speed that he could not even keep his dying gaze on it. None of the submachine gunners had time to fire their weapons at it, though Rocky at first thought that one had a chance.
Not that it would have mattered. He doubted even the large-caliber machine gun could have done anything to the beast.
Was it an elite? Quite probably. His imagination could not conjure a stronger, more terrifying creature.
A few short moments later, the gunners were no more. The colossus stopped in the center of the battlefield, crouched, and looked to both sides. Perhaps it was looking for survivors, but it was more likely deciding which course to try first.
At that moment, Kitty peeked out from the truck positioned behind the monster. Rocky knew that hallucinations came when people were dying. What he saw was impossible—she was still wearing the splint, but walking normally, like a person in full health. And then, without a hint of a limp, she bolted.
“Bolt” was not the right word. This was different. He searched for how to describe it. She moved like a cannonball, a blur through space, as fast as the unsuspecting monster had been.
The monster did, in fact, suspect something near the end. It jerked in characteristic ghoul fashion, preparing to turn towards the new threat. But it was too late. The girl flew up the flexible prickly spines on its tail, up to the nape of its neck, swinging her sword. The blade burned with a dazzling blue flame that extinguished itself as the magic steel plunged into the mound at the back of the elite’s head.
The sporesac. The most vulnerable place on any infected. The elite’s sac was well-protected from nearly every angle. Even steel alloys were no match for that kind of living bone armor. But Biter was a magic sword, capable of piercing through anything. Unfortunately, it could only be used rarely, but in this scenario, one blow was enough.
With the same agility, she slid down the tottering carcass and began to circle the truck like a butterfly, feverishly searching for something. Rocky was beginning to realize that this could hardly be called a hallucination. He struggled with his body and his mind alike, as both faded. At last, he managed to bend his arm at the elbow, lifting it slightly off the ground.
She noticed. Realizing that his blood-stained body was not quite a corpse, she ran over and recognized her companion. Falling on her knees, she threw up her hands, the blood draining from her face. “Rocky...”
With the last drops of his life force, he made a sad attempt at a smile and said in a slow, hoarse, voice, “It’s been fun, and I don’t even like anything about you. You’re not Kitty, you’re like a garden scarecrow. And you’re the best girl in the world. Call me a moron if you want, but I killed him. Romeo is gone, far gone, off to some other region far away...”
“You’re going to a new region, too!”
“It was worth it,” he continued, still smiling. “Romeo, then Globes, then... Well, then it went to shit. I had no idea that mental was so nimble. Did you see that? They’re all gone to respawn now. It couldn’t have gone better. They expected this Romeo of yours to help them out with some superpower, but when I killed him, the first pack that showed up was enough to do them in. That’s what I called a bunch of morons.” Rocky would have laughed, but all he could manage was a sickening cough.
The girl’s face grew ever more sad, in contrast to the drug-lit gleam of her eyes. She nodded. “You can’t make noise like that near a big city. Too dangerous, and they should have known. Dammit, Rocky, I don’t know what to say. Why did you do it? What the hell does it do for you? Why?”
“Do what?”
“Kill Romeo.”
“I told you in simple English, Kitty: I’m not like some people. Relax. Your Romeo is gone, I made sure of that. I don’t know how long he’s gone for, but he’s gone.”
“How could you do this?” tears choked the girl’s voice. “Why? And don’t you dare say you gave your life for mine. I didn’t want that!”
“Who else would I give my life for? That bastard offered me a job, can you imagine? More of a moron than I ever was. Got himself killed by a zero!” Rocky could tell that he had few words left, so he turned to something much more important. “Kitty... wait for me.”
“What?”
“What I said. I’ll come back for you.”
“How? Why?”
“You know why. I’ll come back. Wait for me. And... Treat yourself well. Give your mind time to heal while I find my way back. Remember that we’re not all monsters. Maybe I wasn’t always the best, but now, I’m proof that there are exceptions.”
“You and your stupid jokes!”
“I’m not joking, Kitty.”
“You can’t come back here, Rocky. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember. It will be hard to find my way back. Insanely hard. But believe me: I will come back. Wait for me. Just a little. Please, promise me. I need to hear you promise.”
Kitty’s face became grave. She kept her eyes on Rocky’s, her expression one he had never seen. Then, ever so slightly, she nodded. “I’ll wait.”
The most important matter settled, Rocky tried to smile. “So you took the spec.”
“How else would I have killed the elite like that?”
“I’m sure you would have managed. But it won’t last long. You said the effect passes quickly. Get in a vehicle—there are two left—and go. You have to get out of here fast. You can’t stay here. Who knows what else will show up? You can’t crawl far, but you can drive with one good leg. You drive like a moron, of course, but you’ll manage.”
“I’ll do it, Rocky.”
His vision was almost gone, but he continued to smile as he gasped for air. “Now, I can die in peace.”
“Rocky!” Kitty screamed, her voice quivering.
“Don’t worry. I’m not really dying. I’ll be back.”
“Rocky! Dammit, no. Listen! Those who die in battle have a high chance of respawning near each other. Do you understand me? You might end up in the same region with Romeo. Don’t die! Just stay with me one more second, please!”
Kitty has suggested you change your name to “Cheater.” Your current name is Rocky. To accept, say “yes.” To reject, say “no.”
“Say yes,” she implored. “He knows your name. This will confuse him. Change it fast, because you can’t do it without me. I’m your godmother. I can change your name within the first week. Quick!”
“Yes...” Rocky managed to say as his throat closed up.
Now, he was Cheater.
Kitty has invited you to join her party. Loot distribution policy: relaxed. Speak or clearly think one of the following: “Join” or “Reject.”
“This will help you find me,” she explained at a feverish pace. “Or help me find you. Chat doesn’t work between regions or across dark clusters, but sometimes you can change some party settings to see what happens to each other. Especially death.”
“Join...” he whispered. Then Cheater made one last request, “Smile for me, please. You have a great smile, and I wish you would smile more. I’m only sad I can’t see it.”
“No one has ever done anything like that for me. Never.” Kitty convulsed. “Rocky! Cheater! Dammit. Why are you doing this to me? Why? Moron! Couldn’t you have survived it somehow? Would it really have been so hard to just stay alive?”
He was in the darkness now, but barely moved his lips to respond, with the only word he could remember how to pronounce.
“Wait...”
Then, his sight followed his hearing into the black. Perhaps that was for the best. This way, his companion’s tearful moaning could not undermine his p
icture of Kitty as the strongest, most independent girl in the world.
Kitty was kneeling over his lifeless body, sobbing, drenching his corpse with tears, her mouth stretched to its limit, her hands wringing one another in emotional agony.
And that just wasn’t her style.
Many thanks to my readers!
Be sure to check out my series coming out soon: STYX: The Humanhive.
Welcome to the Hive. A place where entry is easy - and escape impossible. Where mere survival is so daunting that nine out of ten new immunes perish before the end of their first week. Where reaching even the one year mark earns you the title of veteran. How long can you survive?
I would like to heartily recommend the books Play to Live by D. Rus, my good friend and one of the founders of the LitRPG genre. The Play to Live series is one of the finest works in the genre, and a must-read for any fan.
I would also like to recommend the book of Andrei Livadny, my good friend and one of the leading talents in the LitRPG and Cyberpunk genres in Russia.
I want to recommend my friend G. Akella's Realm of Arkon series. For the past few years it's been one of the top series in both LitRPG and epic fantasy genres, and deservedly so.