by Tao Wong
Improved Inferno Strike (II)
Mud Walls
Perhaps one of the biggest changes that occurred within the Forbidden Zone was the vast increase in the effectiveness of my spells. With the incredible increase in my Mana regeneration rate due to the sheer volume of Mana available on that planet, I started using my spells significantly more. I even spent some time upgrading my most used spells, making them significantly more powerful. While I still know the older, less powerful versions of the spells, rather than clutter up my interface, I just had them relegated to another section. It’s not as if I’m ever going to cast Mana Dart again. Hell, I barely even use Mana Missile. In truth, I’m looking forward to speaking with Aiden about magic now that I’ve been forced to learn it the hard way.
As I stand there, contemplating my character sheet for the first time in four years, I’m grateful that I chose to be Ported into the middle of nowhere. With my own ability, I can get home easily enough now that I’m back on Earth, but I wouldn’t want to go over my new Skills while dealing with the fallout of being away for a few years. Not that I had any choice about leaving. And talking about choice…
“Took you long enough,” I drawl, tilting my head to stare at the trio of Honor Guards walking out of the underbrush. Or Honor Guards and champion to be exact.
The trio of Erethrans are each over seven feet tall, their hair colors ranging from simple purple to outlandish, vibrant yellow-red. Each of them have coral-like ears and slitted eyes whose giant yellow pupils seem particularly startling set against the almost non-existent nose with that hint of a beak-like overhang. They’re all clad in an armored pants-and-tunic ensemble, sporting the exclusive Erethran royal family’s colors—purple and silver.
“I believe that was my line,” the champion says with a half-smile.
I regard the champion for a moment, reading the status information Ali is able to pull up. Interesting. She’s gone up a few Levels since the last time I spoke with her. Impressive even, considering how hard it is to Level at the stage she’s in. At least, unless you’re a cheat character like me.
Ayuri d’Malla of the Dawn, Breaker of the Sixth Legion, Hero of the Sixth Kumma Wars, Mistress of Knives, Bloodflower, Slayer of Kumma, Goblins, Mizza… (Level 43 Erethran Champion)
HP: 9990/9990
MP: 4342/4780
Conditions: Buffs. LOT OF BUFFS.
“That sounds like a lie, considering you never expected me to survive,” I say with a smile. There’s no malice in my voice, not anymore. A quick scan of her friends shows that they’ve Leveled too. Impressive as well, obviously.
“No recriminations or anger over throwing you in?” Ayuri says, dark eyes regarding me as she weighs my reaction.
“I’ve had four years and a lot of monsters to work out my anger,” I say. “Not that you’re forgiven. But you’re not looking for that, are you?”
“No.”
“So. What now?” I’ve played this discussion through my mind so many times, workshopped the various ways this could go. But at the end of the day, it comes down to what the woman wants. The fact stands that it would have, should have, been easier to just kill me to remove the stain of my presence on their honor. That she didn’t means she has plans for me. Now, it’s time to find out what.
Or not.
“Now? Nothing. In time, I expect we’ll speak again,” Ayuri says.
My eyes narrow slightly as I consider the champion. There’s a lot I can say—a refusal to play her game, a question about her motives, or even a query about what has happened recently. In the end, I speak none of those words.
“Okay.” I nod, shifting away slightly.
I take my time, keeping an eye on the trio as I wait to see what they’ll do. Appearing here, in the middle of nowhere, was also a check to see if I had to deal with the Erethran Guard in a more violent and permanent way. Yet the trio looks utterly bored, happy to let me raise my hand and form a Portal.
Only when it’s fully opened and I’m at its threshold does Ayuri speak. “If you’re looking for your friends, you will not find them there.”
“What do you mean?” I say, my eyes narrowing. “Vancovuer…?”
“Still yours. As are all your other settlements. Can’t contact Kim from here, but there’s no change in your ownership.”
“Just that your friends are currently engaged in another location. Almost all of them actually,” Ayuri says.
“Where?”
“Well, why don’t we take you along? We’re supposed to make an appearance too,” Ayuri says with a smile.
I find myself annoyed by the casual way she’s speaking. Still, I give her a nod as I release my Portal. Within moments, another, much larger Portal appears, its dark inkiness showing nothing of what awaits me. As soon as it fully appears, the trio travels through it without hesitation, and I join them with only the barest of hesitations. This could be leading to who knows where. But if that’s the case, I might as well get it over and done with now. I tell myself to have patience, but I do take a moment to layer a Soul Shield on myself. Even if they’re deliberately provoking me and playing with me, all will be revealed.
And if not, I’ll show them what happens when you survive four years in a Forbidden Zone.
Chapter 2
Daylight disappears and twilight appears. My eyes adapt immediately, though I wish I still had my helmet. That was gone, what—fourteen months ago? Something like that. Made using Sabre quite difficult actually, since the helmet wasn’t part of the nanomachine calibration. In fact, I hadn’t even pulled my mecha out in months. The poor thing was so battered and smashed, I often just left it in storage.
As I’m thinking useless thoughts, I’m taking in my surroundings, scanning for trouble both via my Skill and my senses. Green grass has given way to sand, the flat terrain replaced by a dune. No more giant rainforest trees. Instead, a group of smaller, scurrying organic creatures appear before me, heaving and thrashing like living waves. It only takes a moment to register that there are three sides in the conflict before me: monsters, Galactics in all shapes and sizes, and humans. The scale of the battle is surprising—tens of thousands of figures fighting it out before me.
Bright beams of light, the roar of gunpowder and other chemical explosive ammunition, and the never-ending stink of clotted, iron-rich blood fill my senses. Winds, kicked up by continuous roar of explosives, swirl around me. Sand, salt, and particalized organics cloud the air even as screams and grunts of pain punctuate it all. They’re far enough away that it’d be impossible to see them normally, but my boosted Perception seems to make seeing through the smoke a snap. One part of me is taking in the war, categorizing fighters and sides, while another is snapping Skills and spells in place, boosting my body into its best combat-ready state.
“What is going on?” A few years ago, I might have rushed in, taking part in the battle without thought. A few years ago, I’d know who was right, who I had to protect. But now…
“Just a minor field battle,” Ayuri says. “Your friends are participating, with everyone contending for the Field Boss.”
“Field Boss?”
“Alpha monster who has become a locus for Mana flow. Rather than creating a dungeon, it powers up the monster, giving it significant boosts. Some of the oldest even respawn like monsters in a dungeon.”
I don’t need to ask who it is. The giant glowing pink arrow that follows the creature’s movement is more than sufficient. It’s a weird, ten-limbed scorpion-like monster with thin, grasping arms in the front and a second, humanoid body where its tail would be. Even without the arrow, years of battle have trained my eyes to see the telltale shifts, the flow of the battle, and spot the centers of activity, the linchpins. On the monster side, it’s the Field Boss who, even under the barrage of modern, futuristic, and magical artillery fire, is barely bothered by the damage. Its health bar shifts a miniscule amount.
On the human side, there are dozens of smaller centers of activity. A ten-gallon-Stetson-hatted man two-steps
through monsters, pistols blazing. A pair of puppies and a tiger run amok through the Galactics, guided and occasionally helped by a redhead on a griffin. Between both groups of attackers, an armored individual in ghostly medieval Japanese armor holds both groups aside while wielding a polearm. A pair of Guardians back her up, one with a metallic silver fist and another with swirling, tiny shields that protect against attacks. In the back, a party of Mages alternately dispel and cast spells, protecting the humans and their allies. And I do say allies, because I’ve spotted two anomalies.
Holding up one corner of the human army facing the Galactics is a force of Hakarta. They’re easy to spot with their uniform armor and green facial tusks that stick out of their helmets. The Hakarta have a series of force shields locked in place at the front of the line, guarded by a group of plasma-spear-wielding Hakarta, while other members of their mercenary Corp lob grenades, spells, and other attacks over the defenses. Higher up on the sloped hill and behind the lines, snipers and other long-ranged fighters add to the carnage.
In another section of the human army’s line of combat, a group of blue-and-silver-armored individuals in eight-foot-tall mecha are facing off against the monsters. Each mecha wields the equivalent of a minigun, spraying enchanted bullets downrange at a ferocious rate that barely stems the monster army. Beside each mecha, other members of the troop lay down more careful fire or work to reload the mecha. Between the towering metal behemoths, smaller figures use magic and melee weapons to deal with the few monsters that trickle through the gaps.
“That’s the Erethran Army down there, isn’t it?” I say, gesturing to the group with the mecha. The green and yellow piping a dead giveaway too.
“Yes,” Ayuri answers.
I grimace, wondering what the story is, but discard that line of questioning. Another time. For now, I’ve got a good enough idea of the situation. I gauge distances, consider my Mana, then speak up.
“One last thing. I’m going to need to borrow another Portal…”
***
The black hole opens in space high above the monster army, taking in a backwash of lightning as a spell is deflected upward. I ignore it as I jump through the Portal with a pair of channeled firestorms ready, appearing high above the group. I release the spells as I fall, the fire appearing so quickly, the monsters below have no time to brace. When fire erupts all around you, not much you can do but burn.
I drop through the flames, my Soul Shield burning up as the flames eat away at its integrity. With a crash, I’m on the ground then back on my feet, dashing forward even as experience notifications pile up in the corner of my eye. Feet kick off the ground as I rush the now-clear Field Boss. It roars, its skin mildly blackened from the firestorms. Its health bar has barely moved. Even as I move, previously launched spells and artillery fall, making my Soul Shield tremble.
Aqrabuamelu Alpha (Field Boss Level 129)
HP: 13380/15380
MP: 9804/10230
Conditions: Greater Regeneration (IV), Field Advantage
I hate these kinds of monsters. I really do. Smart enough that they could almost be considered sentient, but without the level of conscience or morality that would make them viable members of society. They wield magic and savageness with equal fervor, though their spells are closer to innate Skills. The Aqrab glares at me, fingers shifting as the humanoid part begins a spell. Instinct has me throwing myself to the side as a rainbow stream flashes past my body. Even as I roll to my feet, the front body sends another spell on its way from its thin, weird hand/tentacles.
Blink Step. I’m beside the front body the next second, my sword cutting into one thin limb. It catches, barely scratching it, but that’s okay—the following Skill-generated blades are on their way. Freezing Blade reacts as each blade contacts, layering a cold spell on the Boss and slowing it even as I’m moving. A twist of my body has me rolling across its broad back, one hand twisting and forming the spell Mud Wall that floods upward from the ground even as I throw a second cut at the tail-body.
The monster snarls, leaning backward to dodge the attack. While it does so, it struggles to free itself from the Mud Walls. With the boss trapped by the movement of my blades and the Mud Walls, I dismiss the sword in my hand and point both hands at the body, casting Inferno Strike. Beams of plasma fire erupt, tearing sizzling holes in the body as I walk along its torso. Before I can keep channeling and tear its body apart, its reinforcements arrive, forcing me to kill the spell prematurely.
A female lion-mutant, sleek and golden-furred, pounces at me, jaws distended and a green liquid dripping from its fangs. For a second, I see down its throat. Tattered flesh hangs from needle-fang teeth the size of daggers. Then my hand catches the monster by the underside of its neck and I slam the creature into the ground, the audible crunch of bones breaking echoing through the battlefield. A back kick takes care of another monster before I toss the lion into another group. Even if the damage done isn’t great, it’s a show of power that is hard to miss. Especially with my Champion’s Aura turned on fully, attracting everyone’s attention.
Another lesson from the planet? Sometimes, it’s not the damage but controlling the battlefield that matters. In previous mass battles, I focused on killing as many as possible, as fast as possible. But now, now, I have another goal. With a stomp, I flip off the Field Boss as it lashes out with a series of guided bolts of pure Mana. Landing on the ground before it, I eat some of the attacks.
I grasp its front arm, gripping tight as a rising kick throws the body upward under the effect of my System-enhanced strength. Because the points don’t just mean a change in physical strength but also in how I can make such strength manifest in the real world. And I’ve had a lot of practice learning to use these points properly. The creature flies into the air, held down only by my arm. Then I dance, swinging the giant Field Boss bat as a weapon, even as my Soul Shield falls under repeated secondary attacks.
Blood flows, small cuts and damage accumulating as the Boss lashes out with spells, and artillery shots land around us. But the battering ram of the Field Boss clears a wide area around me, one that I keep widening as I dash through the crowd. Along the way, I use my floating swords to add to the carnage. I create disruption and confusion, breaking morale and formations while layering damage and obstacles.
The change is small at first, the morale factor of my sudden appearance boosting the human army’s fighting form. Then the distraction and damage to the Field Boss’s subordinates kicks in, removing orders and support actions that were meant to take place. Weaknesses in the monster’s line become breakouts as reinforcements do not arrive. And now, with the Field Boss unable to add additional orders, the monsters are split apart further. Mud Walls hamper movement; Polar Zones damage and slow down susceptible monsters as they rush around. Gaps appear and increase, and the experienced human army acts on it, targeting Elites and Alphas with a vengeance. It’s a waterfall effect.
But it doesn’t go all my way. After a minute, the Aqrab takes action, slicing off its own arm to free itself and using the force of my latest swing of its body to fly into the distance. It takes me a little bit to weave my way near it again, bashing apart monsters as I heal my body and close in on the Boss. Rather than repeat the attack, I switch to monster bowling, using the hardy Field Boss to shatter lines.
In the corner of my vision, Ali is dashing alongside me, his Spirit body fully materialized. He’s still clad in his orange jumpsuit, but magic dances from his hand. Through our connection, the Spirit has use of the full range of spells I have learned, along with a few innate spells and abilities. But here, he’s mostly focused on using Improved Mana Missiles, Enhanced Lightning Bolts, and the occasional Mud Wall while continually buffing me with healing spells. Together, we rampage through the monsters’ back lines, causing death and mayhem as the Field Boss’s health shrinks ever so slowly.
“Boy-o, Mana’s at a quarter,” Ali quietly reminds me.
I snarl, snatching up a monster and tossing it a
side before booting another away. Then I focus, drawing on the stored Mana in my Mana Bracer, draining it completely. Time to end this. A rhinoceros-like creature charges me, trampling over a smaller carapace-clad monster in front of it, and I grin.
“Just in time.”
My mind shifts, counting down the seconds even as I cut apart another creature. A second, two, then I jump upward, my feet lightly touching down on the charging monster’s singular horn. Another push with my feet and I’m in the air, boosted by the creature’s angry bellow and charge. I laugh, the thrill of fighting rushing through my body. Gods, I’d forgotten how fun it could be bullying lower Leveled monsters.
In the air, I spin and twist, locating the Field Boss, who has recovered from my latest bowling attempt and is scurrying away. Even as it does so, it’s manifesting another spell, hands waving in unison as a weird, rising chant fills the battlefield. Too bad Spells take a bit of time to manifest. The more powerful the spell, the longer it takes—dependent on skill and ability—which is why I tend toward simpler spells in combat. When I’m not using Skills. Because Skills just require a moment of concentration and willpower.
Around me, an even dozen identical copies of my sword appear. I raise my hand, the original sword in my hand shining with light as I gesture downward, the action copied by the dozen blades as beams of concentrated energy tear the air apart to impact the Field Boss. A few unlucky monsters get in the way of the strike and are torn apart like wet newspaper. Each enhanced blade of energy rips through the monster, their penetrating power doubled due to my new Master Skill. Long tears appear on the Aqrab’s body, thousands of points of damage appearing in a single strike.
Army of One. The damn Skill name says it all.
I land on the ground with a grin, striding forward as the Aqrab struggles to stand up, a pair of feet so badly damaged that one lies on the ground next to it. Blood dribbles out from its wounds, a sulphuric smell rising from its wounds even as its buffs attempt to heal the damage.