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[>>Now replaying: Log 1.76 - Race_to_world_first.mov]

Date: 8.9.175 AA / 4404 LTC

Location: The Bunker at Haven-Of-Progress // Zephyro’s Domain

//UND DA GEHT ER DOWN UND DA KOMMT DAS GG!//

//AHHHH, PLAYGU! YAH PLAYGU-GAH!//

//PENTAKILLLLL&&(/&/!//

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

E2 %Ha! Pina: 1, hexed Machine: 0. It’s just like all the other Machines this far down the path. See? I can go wherever.%

E3 %Me too!%

E2 %Alright, give me the shackle, Tin.%

E1 %I don’t think we should…%

E2 %Oh come on, one of these plugs has to be the one that controls that thing, right? We have an entirely fresh Shackle, what are the odds it won’t work?%

With the breathless, desperate quality of people giving up their last reserves, we prepared to renew our assault. The Moon shone brighter as Zephyro glitched, and hundreds of weapons powered up, humming and hissing and radiating killing intent.

“Burgeois?” Mr Asai said, eying the guy in the trenchcoat in our brief moment of calm. “That’s a little hurtful.”

“You brought it on yourself, just like the revenge of the proletariat!” Comrade President replied, pulling a number of weapons—including ninja stars, a burning Molotov cocktail and a plushie rabbit—out of his coat to inspect them one after the other.

“Just because I wield vast cosmic power and have an Astral throne…” Mr. Asai complained.

“Also, remind me, which god do you hang out with the most, again?” Comrade President said, then he was gone, reappearing in the middle of the scrum, firing a machine pistol into a wolf’s face.

“Struth… He has a point,” Mr Asai said, contemplative as he sunk into his own shadow.

In the middle of it all, I stood, letting Pharus circle over my head faster and faster, gaining momentum. I scanned the battlefield, found an opening, and released the burning orb with a yell, putting all my frustration and fear behind it. A breathless second passed as my weapon crossed the distance between me and the weakened abomination.

It crashed into the creature, setting it aflame. Unlike before, when the fire had barely bothered it, now its skin threw bubbles as it charred, bathing the battlefield in the sickly sweet scent of roasting flesh.

“30 percent! Execute range! Hit it with everything you got!” Shellslinger yelled over the din, and yet another time, the Old Guard gave it their all.

I flung Pharus at the beast over and over, keeping the fire going and growing.

“25%!”

Mr. Asai appeared in the shadows above the beast, arms made of shadow erupting from his cloak, stabbing the grotesque skin with dark replicas of his wicked-looking blade. Then—while dodging beams of red light erupting from eyes that had grown atop the beast—he yelled something about doom and judgment and transgressions and death. He kept stabbing the thing at an insane pace, and wherever his blade landed, the abomination’s flesh started to blacken as rot took it.

Then Mr Asai winced, red lines spreading all throughout the galaxy that made up his cloak. He vanished into himself, reappearing next to me.

“I didn’t even get nicked. They’ve got to have someone infecting us in the Real,” he said. “Anyway, nice meeting you. You’re kinda alright!”

Then he smirked and jumped into the night sky as though he weighed nothing. He spread his arms wide, and from the void-taken heavens, a giant beam of rainbow light crashed into the beast. Just when the first red fragment crossed the boundary from his cloak to his body on his body, he saluted me in mid-air, and disconnected.

[>>User STRONG_CHIN has disconnected.]

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Well that was a fucking bomb and a half to just drop and leave, but there was nothing I could do about it but worry, and that wouldn’t help.

“19%!”

Shellslinger holstered his rifle and pulled a giant Minigun from nowhere, bracing it against his hip and laying into the creature with a stream of bullets so thick it looked almost solid.

“15! We almost have it, keep going!”

A group of four, an orc woman wielding a mace and a shield, a human in white robes, a small lizard person, and what looked like a giant guy in full plate, cut a swath through the ferals. The lizard seemed to be a source of an endless stream of fireballs, while the orc blocked attacks from impossible angles. The healer and guy in the armor also seemed to have some sort of gimmick. For one, he never ran out of mana, and the armored man punched through ferals as though they were paper.

Then the armor glitched. “Oh, it seems like I have found another error.”

The orc grunted in frustration. “Again? I swear these fucking glitches need to stop or I will find the guy responsible for this damn system and start punching.”

The lizardkin shrugged hesitantly. “We should probably just go for now. Can’t risk him getting another weird stat.”

“Agreed,” the healer said. “This was a nice bonus room and all, but we got our reward. Let’s come back later.”

“I don’t know,” said the guy in the armor as red fragments started crackling over its surface. His voice was surprisingly soft. “I don’t wanna leave her alone here. She seems nice.”

“True,” the orc agreed. “But we won’t do her any good if we’re all glitched-out messes. Come on.”

They waved to me, a little apologetically, and vanished as one.

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This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

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“13%! Come on! PUSH IT!” Shellslinger yelled.

Something red flashed in the endless night sky, like a star being born.

It grew with intimidating speed, and then a figure made entirely of red polygons slammed into the abomination’s top, sinking its blade deep into its core.

The shockwave erupting from the impact point threw us back, and it was all I could do to stay on my feet. Some of the Old Guard fared better, some were tossed aside, immediately disconnecting.

[User drasticsurgeon and OTHERS have disconnected.]

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But as our attacks dwindled, so did the Hunger’s endless stream of monsters. The abomination’s skin started rippling from where the Shackled’s sword was still stuck inside it. In waves, its flesh peeled away from bone and sinew, only to grow anew and repeat the process.

I stared up at the Shackled until its information manifested inside my head.

[scout_14]

[DPM filesize: >XXX LKB]

[>>Calculate exact filesize?]

Oh no…

Two more red lights appeared in the night, raining down on the Feral. It screamed with every impact, waves of command rushing over us and into the city, but there was no response.

Three more red figures emerged from the darkness behind the monster, sticking their swords into its sides.

“9%!” Shellslinger yelled, after a glance at the Shackled. “Damn, they’re going to take all the XP!”

Oh no they won’t, I thought, inhaling deeply and searching for the Logic within. But before I could focus, a hand landed on my shoulder, interrupting my thought.

“Sultana, no!” Zephyro hissed.

[User Flaming_Ladder has disconnected.]

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“If they learn of your presence, or worse, see what you can do, everything will be over!” The Vizier’s voice was low and urgent, and my shoulder felt like it was burning where he touched me.

Again he wants to tell me what to do, wants to…

No.

The rage reared its ugly head again, but I barely managed to wrestle it away from Zephyro and sic it onto the Shackled.

“You said it yourself,” I hissed back. “If it gets that Logic, or worse, one of this things’ abilities, we are fucked, too. The only way we can get through this is if we can get that kill.”

Zephyro grimaced, but nodded. “Your truth is as true as the moon’s rise. But Sultana, you must promise me never let the Shackled know of your presence.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, teeth gritted. “Sit back and watch as they take their prize, then ruin us all?”

“I want you to trust your soldiers, Sultana,” he said. “And I want you to stay safe. If not for your own sake, then for ours. Which means that once the monstrosity is dead, you will retreat into the Palace.”

> “Yes, run, Torchbearer. Leave others to fight for you. Leave them to die for you.”

“I won’t leave you behind!” I snarled. “Neither you, or the Old Guard! They—”

“… will be fine, Sultana.” Zephyro interrupted me, which told me more than anything else how serious he was. “They will sleep, like they did for ages before you even awoke. In their dreams, nothing can hurt them, and the Shackles won’t find a foothold as long as the humans don’t enter your palace and find the Old Guard’s resting place. This is the one thing we must prevent first and foremost.”

“What if they’re already inside?” I asked. “It could be the only way they’re shackling the Old Guard right now, right?”

“I can promise you on my soul, Sultana, that the humans controlling the Shackled assaulting this city have not penetrated your defenses.”

I looked up at the Shackled surveying the battlefield from atop the monstrosity. It hadn’t even bothered to look at us, focused only on the sword sunk deep inside the horrible landscape of meat.

Zephyro still had his hand on my shoulder, and the touch threatened to grate my nerves to a fine powder. But fuck, he was right.

I took a deep breath, then nodded.

“Okay. We finish this, and then we retreat. Are you sure it will be safe within the Bunker?”

“Your Palace is the most impenetrable fortress I know, Sultana, and I have plans to make it more impervious still. If we aren’t safe in there, there is no safety at all.”

“But then what? We just sit inside and wait for them to break in?”

“No, Sultana. You will claim your throne, and— It is too much to explain! Please, I beseech you, trust me but a while longer!”

I waited for a second, but when he said nothing else, I grunted with frustration. “Let’s go, then,” I said, and Zephyro pulled his hand off my shoulder to grab his sword. Now that his touch was gone, my shoulder felt cold and uncomfortably light, like when your partner steals your blanket at night.

With a tremor, the abomination shrunk again, flesh sloughing off its frame in an insane effort to rid itself of the parasite riding its body. I was almost ready to pity it.

Almost.

The Shackled just stayed the course. It rode the tremors like a wave, holding on to its weapons for stability. Once, after a particularly violent shudder, it almost seemed as though it was going to fall, but as it slipped, it took a confident step forward and stabbed its blade into the fleshy mass once more. The Shackled moved with brutal efficiency, each movement of its arm another wound, each step another kick. From the way the Feral snarled and reared, it was clear it was doing way more damage than we were.

“5%! Damage stop!” the elf yelled. “Focus on pvp, we need to secure the kill!”

5%? That couldn’t be right. I was sure with the added Damage from the Shackled, the Feral should…

The skin peeled away on one corner of the meat cube. Underneath, blood-red light pulsed. No, not blood. Not the red of meat either.

Fragmented data.

“Belay that order!” I yelled. “They’re trying to shackle the Feral!”

Zephyro didn’t waste a second, rushing forward, sword in hand, glowing pure white.

I was right behind him, Pharus trailing fire as I swept it ahead. It drew a river of teal flames across the sky as it rushed forward to keep the Last Feral marked.

Munitions and spells of all kinds launched beside us as we charged, and the front-line fighters of the Old Guard fell in beside us, having dispatched the last remnants of the Ferals’ animated blood.

Then, one by one, they started disconnecting. None of them screamed or cried or begged, they just stood still, smiled, cursed, howled, spat, yelled in anger… and disappeared.

[Several users have disconnected.]

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I could still hear the Elf counting down from behind us as our numbers dwindled and the ranged attacks hailing down on the Feral grew fewer and fewer.

4%…

I reached the foot of the mass, Pharus in hand, and swung it deep into the flesh. It sank in with a ghastly wet sound that would haunt my dreams, and then I flared my weapon as hard and often as I could, pumping teal fire into the beast.

An eye formed inside a dead mouth right in front of me. It glowed red and I immediately ducked to the side, but no attack came. Instead, the eye looked pleading, panicked almost before a red cataract of corrupted data burst out of the pupil like a fungal growth.

3%…

I fell back as the pustule spewed digital pollen in the air. It threatened to engulf me, until I swept Pharus through the cloud. It burst aflame immediately, and I didn’t hesitate, pushing forward and back into the creature. I bashed it with frenetic fervor, trying to prioritize hitting any red cubes I could see.

2%…

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They were all leaving. At this rate, I’d be alone again…

The goblin I had seen earlier rushed past me, alone now, and dove head-first into one of the biggest Mouths still left uncovered by the Shackle. He did not come back out before the red bricks grew over it.

[User MadameLid has disconnected.]

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> In the end, you’re all alone again, Sam. They all followed you and died for their faith.

I grabbed Pharus with both hands and delivered an overhead swing that cracked bone, set flesh aflame and evaporated digital fragments. I hit it again and again, grateful for each cathartic swing.

It didn’t matter.

The red fragments were growing faster than I could smash them.

We weren’t fast enough.

[User BeerBeard has disconnected.]

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There was just not enough flesh left to hit.

Within seconds, all I could see was red.

Red …and white?

The calm ire of the Moon descended on the creature. I looked up, expecting Zephyro to have transformed his sword into a slice of moonlight again.

Instead, the moon that had reigned peacefully over the Plaza for the entire fight now plummeted towards the Monster, the Shackled, and me.

Zephyro was at my side a split second later, hand on my shoulder, bathing us both in his moonglow shield.

“Fear not, Sultana, for as long as I draw breath, you will not stand alone.”

Then the world went white.