by Tao Wong
We dance in the cramped corridor, the Juggernaut and I. The Juggernaut blocks, kicks, and punches, using its tough scaly hide and an occasional burst of lightning from its horns to damage and distract. I swing, cut, and thrust with my blades, using my soulbound and conjured weapon to bleed the monster. The blades flow, lunge, and twist around us in patterns of preordained movement, cutting off lines of attack and movement.
Ooi is stronger than me, faster, and with significantly more health. But the style of fighting I use, the blades which never stop moving, which restrict lines of attack and open at my command, is new to him. Numerous times, the Juggernaut has to abort instinct-driven combos. Numerous times, I see him visibly hesitate as he does the shish-kebab math.
In a close quarters fight like this, at the speeds and strength we use, hesitation is a loss. A loss of one punch, one kick, one cut. But the ones keep adding up. Blows land on tendons and ligaments, shredding scales and tearing muscle. Each attack, each movement, drains the Juggernaut’s massive health pool, whittling down the Galactic.
But it’s not all one-sided. Even through the focus and resistances, the pain from my accumulating injuries piles up. The creature is too big to dodge fully. The Juggernaut isn’t the only one restricted in his movements, and I’m forced often to discard a promising line of attack or defense, to dismiss my swords as I spin and twist away. But fists, elbows, and feet brush past me, chipping away at my health, adding bruises and light shocks with each attack. Each attack replaces a touch of Mana, is reduced by my Class Skills. But only partially.
A hook comes, cutting through the air and leaving a hiss of ozone behind as I’m forced to jump backward. The charge releases as it brushes against my stomach, throwing me backward even further, and I’m brought up short by the gates again. They creak and groan as I bounce off them to fall on my knees. Blood dribbles from my mouth as I’m seized by a coughing fit, the sweet smell of blood and the acrid burn of raw ozone filling my lungs.
“Not weak,” the Juggernaut says, held back by the still-spinning blades. The Galactic is bleeding from numerous cuts and on one knee, its opposite hand hanging useless by his side. Tiny eyes glow with power, lightning wreathing its only arm as it punches forward to smash away my blades.
The two of us stare at one another over the distance of only five feet, unhindered.
“No. No, I’m not.” I cough.
It’s now a question of regeneration. Once its leg is healed, the Juggernaut will rush me. If my Mana recovers, I can recall my blades, cast a Spell. Blink Step to get away. But the low warning thrum through my nerves tells me I’m nearly drained, the pain in my head from Mana loss mixed with that of an abused body. A glance upwards tells me I’m in the low hundreds now, enough for a single spell.
“It’s over.” Ali floats down, making his body appear. In his hands, a glowing ball of plasma is contained, one which I can see the Spirit compacting further and further with his affinity as he faces off against the Juggernaut. “You’re nearly out of Mana.”
I blink, then stare at the Juggernaut, at the Juggernaut’s Mana pool. Forty-three. Forty-two. The Juggernaut snorts, anger in its eyes as it forces itself to stand, sending fresh blood bursting from its wounds. Ali raises his hands, the glowing plasma ball a clear threat.
“Move and I throw this at your feet. You’ll get real stumped then if you don’t block with a Skill. Use it, and your Spatial Lock and Contract ends. And boy-o will make you swim the Pacific Ocean,” Ali bluffs while my own Mana ticks upwards, nearly ready to make true his words. Nearly.
“Cheating.” The Juggernaut sways slightly, but Ali just smirks.
“Tell your Mercenary Commander he’s either going to lose his Master Class or he pulls back,” I say softly and push myself up. The injuries I carry—the broken ribs, the dislocated shoulder, the bruised and bleeding internal organs—are numerous, but none of them are crippling. Not yet. It hurts, but I’ve done pain so much, it’s just another day in the apocalypse. I turn on my Aura, the beat of power filling the room. I had it off, since I was fighting alone, but now, I use it to make a point.
The Juggernaut growls at me but doesn’t move. And every second he waits, his Mana drains and mine rises. “Done.”
“Wait for it… all right. Confirmed. We’re seeing a slow pullback.”
“Good,” I say. “Drop the Spatial Lock and the Contract. Once we’ve confirmed they’ve pulled back, we’ll let you go.”
“No,” a voice roars over hidden speakers, the settlement owner screaming in rage. “He stays. We’ll try him and strip him down, behead him!”
“Ali, shut him up,” I say while raising a hand at the Juggernaut, hoping the Master Class understands that this is not my position. I see the Juggernaut tense but not move.
“What do you think I am, a brainless series of bits? I got nothing here,” Ali says.
“Fine,” I say. “Drop the Spatial Lock.”
“Why…?” the Juggernaut manages to ask.
“Or do you want stupid to get you?”
Behind me, I hear the blast doors twist and groan, straining as they attempt to open. But the damage done to them from my body pancaking against them repeatedly must have shorted out something.
“I’m commanding you to stop!” the Malaysian settlement owner’s voice grows shriller and higher.
After a brief consideration, the Juggernaut drops its Spatial Lock and I open a Portal underneath our feet, dropping us right through it.
The loud thump and creak of the walkways puts all our teeth on edge. The Juggernaut growls, sitting down heavily as the glass roof—thankfully System-reinforced—creaks again. Together, we stare at the small park and open spaces splayed out before us, the city slowly smoking from the war it just experienced.
“Chocolate?” I offer to the Juggernaut, a hand held out as I continue to stand. Stupid spine—I’m pretty sure I cracked something in my coccyx. But at least no one else has to die.
***
“Why’d you let him go?” Ali asks me thirty minutes later. I’d have kept the Juggernaut longer, since the pullback isn’t over, but the increasing calls for aid from other settlements under attack forced my hand. Better to get rid of this hot potato.
“Killing him wasn’t a guarantee. Better to get the agreement and pullback now. Even if asshole isn’t letting it go,” I say, rubbing my temple.
Thankfully, whoever was actually in charge of the defense was smart enough to let the mercs run when they wanted to. It didn’t stop the owner from bitching, but I at least had him on mute and feeding into a virtual avatar of myself run through my Neural Link. It wouldn’t fool anyone rational, but stupid isn’t rational right now.
“It almost sounds logical,” Ali says with a snort. “You sure you’re feeling well, John?”
“Any word from Ingrid?” I say softly.
When Ali shakes his head, I grit my teeth. Damn it, Starling, you better be okay.
“Isfahan’s calling again, requesting ETA. Latest update shows they’re really getting hammered.”
I mentally call up the latest map update, overlay it with my waypoints, and grunt. “Then let’s get to work.”
I jump off the building, letting myself build up some speed before opening the Portal right beneath me. Time to bring some hell.
***
Too late. Days later, I know I’m too late even as the transition into Prague tears at my health, the molecules which make up who I am coming apart before snapping back into place. My body burns as I transition fully, the world snapping into focus while the quantum lock symbol appears before my eyes.
“You are too late.” Musclehead’s voice.
I turn, spotting the Movana, his legs spread and a pair of short blades held lightly in his arms. He’s gloating slightly, challenging me. All around me and on my minimap, enemies populate as my Skill and Ali stabilize and do their jobs. Dozens, then hundreds. I look sideways, seeing the snipers who have me bracketed in the city square I chose.
Si
shin Narato (Level 6 Legionnaire)
HP: 1890/1890
MP: 1080/1080
Conditions: Buff, Rallying Presence, Impeccable Taste
“How’d you get me here?” I ask, refreshing my Soul Shield while I calculate trajectories and plot an escape route. No Blink Step. Portaling would be expensive and I’m not entirely sure how…
“A simple redirection,” Sishin says with a smirk. “Your Skill is well-known. A simple matter to find a counter.”
“Working on it, boy-o. Stall them.”
“I take it you’ve taken the City Core,” I say.
Seven snipers above. Just over two dozen soldiers on the ground, ringed around me and blocking any exits. They’re smart enough to space themselves such that they can cut off any route I choose if I do a direct rush. Musclehead is the most dangerous by far, the only Master Class here. But most of those here are at least low Level Advanced Classers. Good enough to slow me down. Good enough to kill me if I stick around to fight.
“Yes. Order your men to stand down. There is no reason for additional deaths,” Sishin says, the swords swinging by his side easily.
“Not my men. I’m just a helper,” I say.
“Rubbish. They’ll listen to you. If you pull them back, we’ll let them leave.”
“Okay, Skill is called Spatial Twist. It’s an area effect Skill, but it triggers whenever a spatial or dimensional rip occurs. It diverts the ‘tunnel,’ if you will, into a specific location. Bad news—it only costs a little Mana to keep active. Good news—when it actually diverts, it’s a huge cost.”
“So what? Multiple Blink Steps and hope they run out of Mana before I run out health?”
“Why let them go?” I say out loud. The unasked implication is why he isn’t shooting at us already.
“Orders. We are not your enemies, Mr. Lee,” Sishin says, the slight grim smile still on his face.
“Pretty sure the word doesn’t mean what you think it does.” I look around pointedly at the damaged buildings, the guns pointed at me, and the corpses which still line the street.
“This is just necessity,” Sishin says. “If your combatants leave, overall damage will be lower. You will lose less, we will lose less. You know you cannot win at this point.”
I grunt, but he’s right. With them owning the City Core, I’m locked down from bouncing around. We can’t even shift people in, not without them getting killed due to their Spatial Twist Skill. Never mind the fact that getting out is a little tricky right now. “Why not end me now?”
“You make it sound like you’d make it easy,” Sishin replies, eyes narrowing slightly. “No matter how inflated your reputation might be, you are a Master Class. And any battle with you would prolong the battle in this city.”
“Not worried I’d go help somewhere else?” I say.
Sishin shrugs.
“Most likely different factions within the Movana themselves. He probably is hoping you’ll hit them and weaken his allies.”
“That’s idiotic.”
“But effective.”
My lips thin for a moment before I give the order to Ali. Within seconds, we’re connected to the local communication grid and authenticating a pullout. As usual, not everyone agrees with the decision, but when I stress that I’m leaving, it deflates quite a few of the hotheads. Even so, I spend a good fifteen minutes arguing with my people while under the guns of the Movana, a most uncomfortable situation. But when it’s done, Sishin offers me a slight nod.
I still dislike the preening Musclehead, but I have to admit, they’ve allowed us to cut our losses significantly. It’s honorable and maybe a little kind. I wish… well, I wish things were different. I could work with them, I think. But I don’t have time to think about it, not before Ali pushes another urgent request for help even as I’m “escorted” to the city limits.
***
“What are you doing here?” I cough and drain the water bottle before spitting some of the residual dust from my mouth.
“All hands on deck, remember?” Lana says with a smile.
I snort but look around the short brownstone buildings which surround us in Harlem, just south of 125th street in New York. “Didn’t think they’d drag you in too.”
“No one dragged me. I volunteered to come,” Lana says, her lips curling up slightly. “I always wanted to visit New York. And when the mermen attacked, I couldn’t let it stand.”
I laugh, wondering if she was imagining bad silver age comics. Her griffin drops down from the sky, depositing the carcass of a mutated narwhal on the street and tearing into it with its beak. Roland slinks out from the shadows, yowling in communication with the hissing griffin as they vie over the carcass.
“Puppies?”
“I left Shadow with Katherine,” Lana says. “Howard’s organizing the strays to deal with stragglers.”
“Pardon?” I blink at Lana, who chuckles.
“Howard has gained the ability to lead other canines,” Lana explains. “It seems it’s a side effect of his greater intelligence.”
“Huh.”
I take a moment to stare at the blinking dots on my minimap but see nothing too concerning. The attack was sudden, but the mermen were more enthusiastic and populous than actually effective. We still needed a large number of bodies to deal with them, but on land, their swarm tactics had not ended well.
“Well then…” I say awkwardly when I realize I have no idea what more to say to my ex.
“John, don’t. Not yet.” Lana places a hand on my arm. I stare at her hand and she takes it back with a wry smile. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. We’re still friends,” I say automatically then scratch my head. “Sorry. Just awkward. I mean, I’m good with you and him. Just… you know.”
“Are you really? Okay with us not being together?”
I grimace at the conversation we’re having now, of all times. But if not now, when? When the next crisis hits? We’ve got a moment.
“I am,” I say truthfully. “We had something good. Perhaps it could have been great. But I think we both knew I was always going to leave. Somehow. Some when. The Erethrans just sped up the process.”
For a second, violet eyes stare into mine. Then she snorts. “Are you sure you’re John Lee? Not a doppelgänger from the Forbidden Zone?”
I laugh but shrug. “I learned a few things about myself. People change. I think it’s about the only thing that saves us from the ghosts of the past.”
“Good. I’m glad. You know…”
Before we can continue our discussion, another notification appears, along with an image.
“Are you kidding me? Thousand hells!” I swear, staring at the giant kraken which has emerged from the sea, slithering its bulk towards the shore. Best part—this damn monster seems to have legs!
***
“That. Was. Disgusting,” I say, kicking the dead monster corpse. It managed to crawl a dozen blocks into downtown Manhattan. In the distance, I hear continued explosions as the defenders push the mermen incursion back into the water.
“You could have given me another minute!” Lana complains as she prods the body, moving down to its lower body.
“What are you looking for?”
“Eggs.”
I stare at the Beast Master and shudder slightly.
“Got you covered, Red!” Ali chirps, swooping down and depositing the loot in her hands.
I shake my head, wondering how the Spirit got around the war loot option. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t ask. Some things it’s better to be ignorant about.
Kraken Egg
May be raised by particularly insane Beast Masters. See Beast Tamer manual for Level, skill, and habitat requirements.
Effect: It hatches. Maybe.
Oh hell.
“No time to waste, boy-o. Got another call!”
For once, I’m grateful for the call to action in another besieged settlement. As I leave, I watch the redhead settlement owner literally cooing over the slimy
egg in her hand.
***
Days later, we’re all seated around the boardroom in the public library in Vancouver. Glowing next to us is a projection of the world, the numerous settlements displayed in differing colors denoting their alliances. I stare at the slowly spinning globe, too tired to really see it. Even with a high Constitution and Willpower, the sheer amount of fighting we’ve dealt with—and the amount of high Level fighting too—has been draining. I haven’t slept in days, and I know Mikito has only managed to catch an hour at my insistence. But…
“How’d we do?” I ask, the slow blinking red of some settlements showing where continued fighting still occurs. Of course, they’ve requested help, but considering the forces arrayed against them, we’ve declined to get personally involved. One danger is getting stuck—forced to fight till we release a quantum lock, during which another settlement is attacked while we’re helpless to provide assistance. It’s happened once before, after all.
“We’re currently up four,” says Lana. “We lost a half dozen settlements to the Movana, but the Truinnar used the distraction to take a few locations themselves. The champions managed to win a few others. The Chinese were particularly effective at re-establishing in Mongolia as well.”
I grunt, staring at the estimated votes we’ll get. Eighty-two percent. If everything goes well, if everyone follows through and we don’t magically lose anyone else. Four successful assassinations, ten more failed ones. Enough fear to make us lose a couple votes. Still, even with our troubles, we’re up. Many of the independents and humans who had been on the fence finally agreed to back us, deciding to grab whatever benefits they could get rather than be forced to stand aside and watch others reap it all as we’re coming up to the finish line. We might even see a few more defectors. Or so we can hope.