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[>>Now replaying: Log 1.77 - Superhot]

Date: 8.9.175 AA / 4404 LTC

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

//Super//

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[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

E1 %I don’t think this will work, Pina. I think we should save the Shackle. It’s our last!%

E2 %Why shouldn’t it work?%

E1 %Because they’re Saintech, and…%

E2 %Oh get hexed, Voni. I’m going to get you out of there.%

E1 %Pina! Don’t!%

E2 %Either try and stop me or thank me later!%

When the blaze faded, I was unharmed, as were the remaining Old Guard.

Zephyro, on the other hand, was not.

He was lying on his side, glitching violently like never before. As I knelt at his side and reached out to help him, a particularly strong wave of digital fragmentation surged over his body.

Then the world distorted.

When it snapped back into place, I was no longer in Zephyro’s city. Instead, I stood in the middle of a destroyed forest clearing. I could smell the ocean close by. Only when I turned around and saw the bunker doors did I realize that I stood on the parade grounds.

This was my base. The one at Haven-Of-Progress…

Except there was almost nothing left that would deserve that name. The concrete had been replaced by a giant crater, everything was covered in ash, and the entire area was littered with scrap and bodies. The giant defensive turret we had built atop the entrance glowed red-hot at both barrels. The vines that had grown over- and concealed it had been burned away by the heat, as had any vegetation covering the concrete in a wide radius around the impact point.

Dozens of the buildings I had noticed the last time I caught a glimpse of the real world were nothing but dust now.

Then, as the world glitched again, I saw a figure getting up from beneath the rubble. The only thing I could make out before the world went black was that it looked humanoid, but was definitely not human. Not with that much metal and weapons attached to its body. Then another rose. And another. They twitched in place, something clearly wrong with them. Somebody yelled something about the cannon, and repairs and reboots.

The darkness stuttered, distorted, and I was back in Zephyro’s domain, in the middle of the plaza.

Or what was left of it.

The moon’s descent had destroyed everything within hundreds of meters and left nothing but rubble. The noble houses, the exquisite stores, the cool alleyways, all gone. All that was left was the Fortress behind me and devastation as far as the eye could see.

Devastation, and the husk of a dead Feral. The beast that had once rivaled the size of the Palace was nothing but a shell now, a collapsed scaffolding of bones and fleshy safety-mesh tissue.

From within, it glowed as bright a blue as I had ever seen.

“Go, Sultana,” Zephyro rasped, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Take the prize, before they… recover.”

Olre, in winter, sitting next to me. My head is on his shoulder and he’s stroking my hair while my throat is still burning from screaming all my frustration into the blizzard raging in front of the cave.

> “They died for you, Samantha, so that you could keep chasing that dream of yours…”

“But I…” I began, stopping when Zephyro held up a hand, coughing.

“I must beg you yet another thousand pardons, Sultana, for interrupting you, but time is of the essence. Quite literally. You must reclaim your blessing, before more arrive. You must be—“ he coughed again, “—ready to rule!”

And then he gave me that look again.

Even while bleeding, even while three steps from death, he still looked at me with faith and adoration. As if I hadn’t been the sole reason he was suffering.

> The command center at Novus Apex. As the fires outside begin to die down, the second regenerative suite is running its course. If there are any complications, I am not noticing them. I’m too busy holding on to Chris.

> “I’m so sorry, I should have never… I don’t deserve… why did you come back?”

> “Oh by the gift of Magic… You’re so dumb sometimes, Sam. Do you really think I would have followed anyone else out of Peruti and what little safety that it offered? Anyone but you? It’s so fucking hard to be your friend sometimes because— No, shut up and let me finish. It’s so hard to be your friend because you actually fucking believe you’re the only person who thinks they’re hard to love.”

“He’s right, you know,” Shellslinger said. “We should hurry this up, even though I think we have more time than he believes. Come on, let’s check out the loot.”

“But I didn’t earn anything,” I said before I could catch myself. “All of you did the hard work, I just… god.” I knew I was forgetting my own contributions. I knew they were buried by doubt and fear and all that anger. But try as I might, all I could remember was whaling at the boss ineffectually and yelling dumb orders.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

He laughed. “If you hadn’t given that burn order, the Boss would have enraged and killed the entire raid. As a raid lead, your job isn’t to do the highest DPS. It’s your job to make the calls that get the group a kill. No, you totally earned it.”

A thought settled inside me, then, fresh, and young, and as vulnerable and horrifying as a newborn animal, covered in pus and blood.

Maybe, I was less terrible than I thought.

Maybe I still had something to lose.

Maybe I always would, and maybe that was okay.

As harrowing as losing someone was, not picking yourself up, not connecting again might be worse.

I walked beside Shellslinger, my steps uncertain while I wrestled with that newfound realization.

From all around the plaza, the members of the Old Guard approached the remnant of the Feral with giddy steps, eyes focused on that blue glow.

“That’s a lot of points,” said the Nun with the flamethrowers.

“A shitton,” her companion with the cat ears agreed.

Shellslinger broke into a sprint, reaching the ruin first. “Oh you’re going to like this!” he said. “Tons of gear in here, and something I think our raid lead will like a LOT.” The cyan glow began to waver as he started to drain it.

“Remember to keep some for the people who disconnected,” I said, and Shellslinger nodded.

Comrade President appeared next to him, having switched his fuzzy hat for one of those revolutionary berets. “Oh wow, are you telling me…” he trailed off, staring into one of the abominations empty eyes that still sparkled with Logic. “We are literally going to seize the means of production!”

Then he laughed and pushed his arm inside the eyesocket with a wet, crunching sound.

“Are you alright?” I asked the Vizier as he came up, meaning not just his health, but that the Old Guard was basically taking the Essence of his dead citizens.

“If any of them is able to nourish these Talents, then yes,” Zephyro said, stumbling forward. “The abomination stole this treasure from one of my people. I would usually demand it back, but…” He grimaced. “I won’t have a use for it. So let them go ahead and take it, but I wish we would make sure they use it wisely.”

“What is that I hear? A palace revolution?!” Comrade President joked loudly, but then he pulled his hands out of the decrepit Feral. With a disgustingly moist sound, he with withdrew something that looked like a broken dot matrix printer, covered in pus and gorre. He stared at it, almost reverent, and for once he didn’t have anything to say.

“What is that thing?” I asked.

“A Talent, Sultana. Or the seed of—“

“A trinket! These are rare enough as it is, but this one is Legendary-grade, too!” Shellslinger interjected.

“Yes, indeed, it is quite legendary,” the Vizier agreed. “Do you remember when you tried to wield Alwamar Fawq Alqasr?”

“Your sword? Yeah. It was too heavy for me to wield.” I smirked a little as I caught myself falling into Zephyro’s lingo. Maybe I was going native.

“Indeed, Sultana. This object is much the same, and yet different. It is a seed, a leftover piece of a fallen being that one can try and add to their own essence.”

So it was a program, then, or perhaps an installation file? Considering this particular thing was a printer, it wasn’t hard to guess what it did.

“Wait, you told me that I can’t just use skills from other AI—I mean people. Why is this one different?”

“Don’t know, and don’t care,” said Comrade President.

“Yeah, don’t overthink it,” Shellslinger said. “Plus, you’re going to lose your shit when you see your loot. It’s a unique!”

I raised my hand to try and pull the Logic into myself, but Comrade President tut-ed, wedging the printer under his arm. “Nonono, you let the commodore distribute the wealth to the masses. He’s a trained expert.”

“Yeah, I got Master loot, so just come over, and I’ll give you your loot, like everyone else.”

I sighed, but I decided to humor him and started walking again.

“In the meantime, I’ll make sure this goes where it needs to,” Comrade President said. “It’s been an honor, comrades, but to ensure the revolution lives on, I must now abdicate.” He sighed theatrically. “Vive la revolucion!” he yelled in a terribly French accent, and logged out.

[User 100%_Speedrun(no S+Q) has disconnected.]

{CPU Load: ▼ 58%}

{Core Temp: ▼ 75° C}

“That guy was weird,” the wolf-eared nun said.

“I dunno. I think he made several good points about eating the rich,” the girl with the cat ears said as they reached the ruins of the Feral, and Shellslinger threw two blobs of Logic their way. The chunks turned into plastic boxes in mid-air, and the two women caught them with effortless grace. The cat-lady opened hers and grabbed a gun from inside. Tossing the box away, she looked at her new rifle. “Niiice…”

The nun went through a similar process, but with a bigger box that held an enormous fuel tank. “Quite,” she said, fastening it to her back and connecting its hose to her biggest flamethrower.

I smiled. This was surprisingly nice. From what Zephyro had told me, I would have suspected them to fight over the Logic, but there was not a single iota of jealousy in the air.

I could get used to those idiots.

Still, we should probably hurry. The Shackled wouldn’t stay away forever.

“What are you waiting for?” Shellslinger shouted, still kneeling beside the dead Feral, hand on a patch of burnt skin. “Aren’t you at least a little excited for y—“

The tip of a massive crossbow bolt erupted from his back.

Red lines started covering his body.

“Fucking killcampers,” he coughed, completely unafraid despite the trickle of corruption running down the side of his mouth.

Then he smirked, still uncaring of the wave of red blocks that spread out from the gaping wound in his chest.

“Oh well, at least we killed the moon. See you at respawn!” And with that, he was gone before the red could cover him.

[User Shellslinger has disconnected.]

{CPU Load: ▼ 56%}

{Core Temp: ▼ 75° C}

Where he had stood, a red figure stepped out of the fleshy shell, ripping the skin like it was a soggy towel. The skin and sinew and meat absorbed into its crimson form, and the Shackled flickered, not saying a word as it flicked its crossbow clean of blood, and turned it back into a simple, black sword.

[scout_14]

[DPM filesize: >XXX LKB]

[>>Calculate exact filesize?]

Zephyro’s eyes shot up, and the sound of weapons being readied filled the air.

My rage ignited and before I knew it, I had tossed Pharus ahead, blazing censer trailing fire with prodigious speed.

But the red figure was even faster. It dodged to the side, slapping my attack away with its blade. Then the shell behind it bulged, distorted, and two more Shackled kind broke through with staggering steps.

We began firing.

The first Shackled moved quicker than the eye could see, using its blade to deflect ranged attacks with so much speed that it looked like it wasn’t even moving at all. Behind it, the two other Shackled sank to their knees, hands on the Feral.

“They’re stealing the leftover Logic!” I yelled.

“They must not succeed!” Zephyro said, awash with cyan energy. To our side, one of the last buildings still standing crumbled to dust as the vizier glitched.

I stared at it, then at Zephyro, covered in that blue force that looked so much like Logic. “Zephyro, have you been—“

“LISULTANA!” he yelled, charging forward, sword drawn, gauntlet aglow with holy energy.

I was behind him immediately, Pharus blazing by my side, and the Old Guard followed a split second later.