“And I’m telling you that there’s no way in hell any pathetic natives actually cleared an Orange tier delve!” The gnoll hissed, glaring back at his passengers, clearly unfazed by the arcane blaster rifles they held so casually. “My Interface has made no mention of any active attempts at conquest in this sector, and why the hell would anyone start with Orange? Anyone that powerful would have claimed the White-tier territories adjoining New York City long before risking themselves on this stupidity. Seers make mistakes. Fuck knows your clan called Freetown dead wrong! Now we gotta deal with three hundred and sixty thousand elves? Fucking madness!”
“Are you truly so blind, Iglin?” Sneered one of the assassins, glaring coldly at the gnoll’s back. “Sylvis has gone silent, and you were the one complaining to us about Terran Guilds that didn’t know their place. Clearly the fool thought he could challenge high level forties when he himself hasn’t even reached thirty! No doubt the Guild broke covenant, attacking one of New York’s sacred Contenders. In fact, we would be fools not to assume just that. Would we not, my brothers?”
The goblin next to him chuckled coldly. “Absolutely! For it is absolutely inconceivable that Sylvis would have allowed those fools to continue their unforgivable pilfering our resources unopposed, and his disappearance and the continued existence of the Silver Griffins means that they themselves have done the unforgivable! Which of course means that we are now permitted to kill on sight, no need for either confirmation or interrogation. And as a reward for our righteous efforts, whatever spoils they might have claimed in their illegal plundering of our treasured resources is now ours to claim!”
All three goblins cackled, Iglin yipping right along with them. “Well of course we were intending on getting rid of those fools. Sylvis just needed a decent pretext. But their damned brown-nosing chevalier kept toeing a line he should have been blind to! So infuriating!”
His smirk turned to a glare. “But we could have waited to take them out when they came back to New York. A little poison or a few shots in the dark after fucking whatever whores we put in their beds and they would have been out of our hair with no risk whatsoever. Most importantly, I wouldn’t have to be dragged out into this damnable cold!”
The lead goblin shook his head, even as the velimobile came to a park just outside the rift. “No good. The oaths made to their parents, who have so far been prudent enough to do exactly as they’re told, would have instantly snapped, and they would understand precisely what happened.”
The goblin beside him nodded. “That’s why Sylvis’s disappearance couldn’t have happened at a better time! Missing till first light is as good as a death sentence in this world! Since we know exactly who to blame, justice can now be dispensed without triggering any oath-violations or alerting a soul!”
The smallest of the three goblins tittered like a chihuahua. “And not even a fiftieth level genius can survive triple perk-boosted sniper shots from arcane blaster rifles in the handful of seconds that Delvers are so vulnerable while leaving their dungeons! We’ll shoot them dead, one at a time, the second they pop out of their rift!”
Iglin’s glare turned to a happy grin. “You little shits are so damn good at slipping out of contractual obligations. I absolutely love it!”
Iglin’s feral grin turned to a look of stunned disbelief when the closest laughing goblin’s head was abruptly perforated, splashing the car with brains and blood. The former assassin’s eyes began rolling wildly, as if to catch a glimpse of the spurting wound in the center of his forehead, before his entire body jerked and spasmed with death’s embrace.
The smallest goblin opened his mouth to cry out warning, but could only cough up blood, gazing down with confusion at the massive hole spraying blood from his chest.
The lead goblin’s confident smirk of moments before had been replaced by a terrified grimace and a wild look in his eyes, already lurching free of the vehicle while Iglin just stared at the vacant gaze of the corpse next to him as the smallest of them drowned in his own blood.
“We’re under attack! Get out of the veli, you damned idiot, and get Vooch over here! We can still patch him up!”
The leather-clad killer was now peering frantically into the trees before he gave a triumphant holler.
“Got you, motherfu—oh shit! It’s Eric Orcbane!”
Iglin jolted out of his seat. “Eric Orcbane? That’s impossible!”
The goblin’s eyes filled with terror, looking smiling death right in the face. “Run! Run for your—”
“Fragor!”
The Bloodtear killer had time only to open his mouth before his head exploded, Iglin himself shrieking and furiously rubbing his eyes as blood trickled from every orifice.
“Quarter, quarter!” Iglin screamed even as an odd offbeat hum filled the air.
“Well, shit. After seeing what that shout can do to a Bronze-tier’s testicles, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that your friend’s head exploded like I had stuffed his mouth full of C-4.”
Eric chuckled coldly, sauntering over to a whimpering Iglin. “It looks like even you’re incapacitated. Can you even see out of your right eye? I think I popped it. Outstanding. Definitely a deadly attack against level 30 losers.”
“No, you shouldn’t be here! We had you contained!” Iglin squealed in furious dismay.
“Our alliance swore it! You were dealt with!” His panicked yelping turned to calculating fury when a smirking Eric closed the distance, the gnoll champion going from panicked to smirking as he unsheathed his gladius and rammed it into Eric’s throat.
Or tried to, before crumpling into genuine terror when Eric caught the blade with his naked hand, slowly ripping it free of Silvis’s panicked grip and snapping the blade between his two hands.
“Mortal steel against someone with 59 Physical Resistance?” Eric tutted and shook his head. “You’ll need to do better than that, Iglin.”
The gnoll’s eyes lit up in panicked desperation. “No, please… please don’t kill me!” His lips quivered in a desperate smile. “I can be useful to you! Yes, in so many ways, I can aid you! You want Gold? Slaves, women? I can get you anything. Everything! I am a champion of New York! All doors are open to me!” He nodded desperately, as if trying to convince both Eric and himself.
Eric feigned a thoughtful nod. The relief in Iglin’s dog-like features was palpable. “Actually, there is something you can do for me, Iglin. Several somethings, in fact.” Eric’s hand casually patted the trembling gnoll’s shoulders before he shifted his grip around the monster’s throat, glaring into the trembling champion’s eyes as he began to squeeze.
“And somehow I just know that you’re going to bend over backwards to answer all my questions. Aren’t you, Iglin?”
The desperately choking gnoll nodded, head whipping back and forth as he gurgled, collapsing to his knees when Eric dropped him with a smirk before hoisting him up once more, the gnolls legs kicking wildly in the air as he continued to cough and wheeze.
Eric chuckled coldly. “Damn right, you are. Now how about you give me the lowdown on New York, the factions, movers and shakers, and yes, most definitely where exactly all the goblin seers and stalkers are hiding. If you tell me everything I want to know in exhaustive yet concise detail, I’ll give you the greatest gift you can ask for!”
Iglin’s eyes lit up with desperate hope. “Gold?” he wheezed.
Eric shook his head, finally easing his grip. “Time.”
The gnoll gasped for air before moaning. “Oh no.”
Eric nodded. “That’s right! A full five minutes to escape before I come after you. And doesn’t that beat me just tearing your throat out, right here and now?” Eric emphasized the last with a squeeze to the gnoll’s jugular. A squeeze perhaps harder than he had intended, still getting used to his new Strength.
The gnoll champion’s eyes bulging until Eric finally loosened his grip, almost certain he had cracked more than a few bits of crucial cartilage.
“Please! I beg of you! Mercy!” Iglin wheezed, gasping for air, his garbled words still perfectly clear to Eric’s enhanced linguistic comprehension as the doomed gnoll stared helplessly at Eric with terror so visceral it was sublime, the air smelling of sour musk, piss, blood, and perforated bowels.
Eric couldn’t help it, he roared with laughter. “Mercy? After what you ungodly fucks put me through? Damn right I’ll be merciful!” His lips curled into a hate-filled snarl, eyes glowing with deadly heat. “I’ll put you out of your misery so fucking fast you won’t even know what hit you! And then I’ll raise you from the dead, and go to fucking town on your screaming corpse!”
“You can’t!”
“I sure as fuck can.”
“No, you don’t understand! Necromancy is now forbidden by unanimous vote within the counsel!”
Eric inhaled to laugh and spit in the trembling gnoll’s face, before the significance of what his enemy had said finally sunk in.
“You said unanimous. As in, all the administrators from New York and Freetown.”
“NO, I mean EVERYONE!” The gnoll insisted, terror turning to a bitter little smile, savoring Eric’s dismay even as he skirted death’s final mercy. “That includes all the neutral factions. That includes even the Sylvan Alliance!”
“Impossible.” Eric snarled the words, then knew himself to be a fool. Letting himself show weakness before his foes.
But Iglin was smart enough to goad him no further, merely bowing his head, unable to catch his breath as his airway began to whistle.
“Did you hear me? I said it was fucking impossible!” Eric roared, earning a desperate nod from Iglin who knew better than to contradict him. “If you expect me to believe that every neutral faction, including those who know just how treacherous and slimy goblin kind is, went out of their way just to fuck with my ability to...Fuck.” Eric’s protestations died off.
Because it made too much damned sense! With his army of undead revenants, he was unstoppable. So of course every enemy of man would want him stopped, and preferably six feet under.
As for the supposedly neutral factions… even if they didn’t necessarily want him dead, sure as hell, they didn’t want some wildcard mixed-blood determining the fate of the world when they no doubt thought that their own champions could do a much better job.
As for his mother?
Eric shook his head, feeling a whirlwind of emotions.
He had been tortured beyond mortal endurance, and his mother had done nothing to stop it.
Yet considering the incredible boons he had gained, perhaps he could eventually forgive it.
But what he couldn’t let go was this final betrayal.
His mother dooming his ultimate tool for surface realm conquest, crippling his class and his ability to evolve and ascend.
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Why? Why the hell would she do that to him?
Eric’s bitter laughter caused the gnoll to tremble violently.
Because of course he already knew the answer. Why risk unexpected outcomes this late in the game when her dutiful son had already locked in close to 360,000 troops for her?
360,000 troops at level 10 or less, bright-eyed recruits and trainees from Aurelia’s top academies in her dozen worlds, all of them eager to blossom and excel, and an additional 240 professional specialists between the levels of 20 and 30 in a time and place where a few thousand per faction was normal, and 15,000 a shocking sight.
And considering his mother’s utter distaste for his revenants, however skilled she was at hiding it, he could actually see her getting on board with a plan that would absolutely screw anyone who dared a necromancer’s path. Because why risk competition catching her unawares, when she was already leagues ahead of everyone else, thanks to Eric’s stupidly noble sacrifices just hours before she completely sold him out?
He shook his head, thoughts racing back and forth. “But can I really hate her? My own mother? Because it’s an even bet that she’s the only reason why I have access to the most powerful attack imaginable. Not just an essence inspired attack, but a transcendent flame fused to a higher order of existence! A fucking platonic ideal. The ultimate trump card. A perk advancement that never would have come along if I hadn’t been doing all that I could to master my own essence affinities while on the razor’s edge of expiring. It might an attack I dare show no one until the final hour, but at least I have it!
And let’s not forget that Bronze-tier 10% bonus of sweet sweet crunchy goodness. And how I hate that my mother’s mittens are all over it!”
Eric gave a frustrated shake of his head, taming his stray thoughts before focusing on what mattered. “I have questions, and you have answers. How long you manage to survive is directly dependent on how well you answer those questions. Are we clear?
“Crystal!”
“Then let’s begin. First, what do you know about the Federal Reserve?”
The gnoll scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about, fool?” he sneered, clearly preparing to deny everything. Then he thought better of it, studying Eric’s ice-cold smile. The smile of a man EAGER for obfuscation and denial.
Because that’s when the fun would truly begin.
It was a look Eric had nailed perfectly, for a role he had ultimately refused to play, sickened by the character, and terrified that he’d slip so easily into that role, because method acting was the only acting he could do with any sort of skill at all, and then Eric would BE his role.
Just as he was now. Smiling like a madman, eager for his target to say the wrong thing.
Iglin blanched, immediately backing down, with a canine’s natural instincts to get on the good side of a mad dog who thought nothing of tearing the throats of disobedient members of his pack.
“Alright! I’ll talk. I’ll talk! Just, let’s work something out, okay? Give me a fair cut, and I’ll even help us put together a crew! Fuck this Contender bullshit. We do this right, and we can both leave this shitty world stinking rich!”
Eric couldn’t help but smile at the offer, sensing a certain perk at work...
Before the sudden prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck was like a splash of cold water before his execution, Eric realizing that he had just played the idiot but had no time to think only MOVE! As the air flashed with the brilliance of plasma arcs tearing through the air.
Missing a panicked Eric, whose 370+ Quickness was utterly beyond the pale, but striking the back of Iglin’s skull that promptly exploded into super-heated gore.
And it was only after he had already taken cover under the veli that Eric understood what the fuck had just happened.
Two kill shots, arrow and voice, Eric thrilling in the opportunity to take out three deadly opponents with an artist’s grace, when his True Strike pierced not only the front seat assassin but the one across from him.
Only the smallest of assassins, the one by the name of Vooch, had clearly suffered a far less severe injury than Eric had thought, before his own Feign Dead ability had him slip completely free of Eric’s mind.
Well never again, Eric thought, heart hammering, as the air shrieked with the tiny killer’s fury.
“No, you goddamned elven asswipe! You well never get the secrets to Bloodtear syndicate’s gold! Never, never, never!” The goblin shrieked, shooting wildly in all directions. But Eric kept his cool, crouched under the hovering velimobile, infravision now pinging his prey right above him. And the moment that the goblin inevitably got smart and tumbled out of the car while spraying the undercarriage with deadly plasma, proving his earlier-seeming panic just a ruse, Eric was already a step ahead, snagging the barrel of the blaster rifle and yanking it off-line before tearing right out of the stumbling goblin’s grip and flipping it into his ES Space.
And before the tiny terror even could blink, Eric had yanked the little killer free of its tumble.
Before ripping Vooch’s arms clean off.
The air rang with the surprised shrieks of a goblin doomed to die in wild-eyed agony in less than a minute.
Before the deadly bloodflow trickled to nothing in just seconds.
Bloodmastery skillcheck made! You have successfully sealed shut all injuries within your target.
Let the interrogation commence!
Eric turned the little monster in his arms around, forcing the trembling creature to meet his gaze, smiling coldly into the doomed goblin’s eyes.
“Sorry, you little shit. But I don’t trust you not to pull something cute. This way, even if you can fake out your death a second time, it won’t mean shit without your arms. Now, I think it’s time you and I had a little chat, don’t you?”
The creature wasted precious seconds trying to look like an innocent waif. When Eric just stared coldly at it without an ounce of pity, its demeanor morphed and twisted, mouth somehow growing longer, teeth sharper, before nearly biting Eric’s face off with its jagged shark-like maw.
Eric was quietly impressed by just how well it writhed and squirmed like a fearsome snapper.
“We’ll kill you in the end, Eric Silver! Just you wait! First, we’ll gangbang your whore of a sister, then we’ll assfuck you like one of our pleasure-dolls! Then we’ll cut you both up into bloody little pieces and feed you to your mother! How do you like them apples, asswhipe? Because sure as shit, no matter what you do to me, you aren’t getting our gold!”
Eric sighed, gazing into a sneering goblin who was clearly feeling no pain at all. High as a kite, no doubt having taken all the pain-killers he had when dealing with his gut wound, now hoping to goad Eric into giving him a quick, merciful death, Vooch well aware that he was living on borrowed time.
Social Perception Check made!
Eric felt a ruthless smile coming to his lips.
The little fucker wanted out.
But what if he was instead forced to endure forever?
Eric looked toward the rift, and back at the goblin. Seeing the first trace of fear in those features. “You’re right. I’m not such a psycho that I’ll do what’s clearly required to break you right now, seeing as you’re high as a fucking kite. But you know what just might? Rats.”
He winked when the would-be assassin shivered. “That’s right! That dungeon right there is absolutely filled with rats! How long do you think you’ll last, crippled, armless, swarmed by rodents? How much you wanna bet that the dungeon will imprint your soul when your desperate screams are finally cut off by rats burrowing into your throat, and you’ll find yourself waking up an instant later, haunted by the fresh memories of being eaten alive, still armless and all alone. Knowing that you’ll have just long enough to whimper in terror before the air rings with the cries of a fresh swarm of rats eager to chase you down once more.”
Eric’s cold laughter seemed to echo between the frozen trees as the tiny armless goblin whimpered with fear. “Hell, I’ll bet the System will even load you in as a dungeon feature! A bit of extra color for all the delvers soon to plunder this very much first-cleared dungeon.”
Eric flashed a truly vicious smile. “I’ll even let you in on a little secret. Since I’m the one who actually cleared the dungeon, that means I get to pick the design! And I think adding you as a permanent fixture, getting a chance to enjoy ENDLESS terror, racing desperately around corridors before you’re eventually eaten alive will be an absolutely SUPERB addition to our dungeon.”
The goblin in his arms grew absolutely still, before shuddering and lowering its gaze.
“You win,” it said.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t fucking hear you!” Eric roared into its quivering ears. “I guess that means it’s time to fucking throw you in!” And Eric marched forward to do just that, feeling a certain dark thrill realizing that YES, he WAS intent on doing just that. He was embracing this role so firmly that he was now living it.
“Wait, wait! I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Just give me half an hour head start when we finish. That’s all I ask! And I’ll tell you everything. Everything!”
Eric froze, just a half step from tossing the little fucker in, more surprised than he wanted to admit that he really had been about to make good on his threat, filled with the sudden terrible certainty that no matter the supposed constraints and alphabetized choices in forging his dungeon, no matter that he had supposedly finished, shot his load, set up the parameters… Absolutely none of that mattered. If he threw the little fucker in, the little monster really WOULD be copied and integrated into the System Delve. And whether or not it was the goblin’s own recycled soul or a cloned copy that might or might not even be sapient, sure as shit, a screaming armless ex assassin would be fleeing hungry rats for eternity within.
And somehow, using whatever social rogue skills the killer had, Vooch sensed that truth as well.
“Please, just half an hour!”
Eric froze, turning his head with birdlike slowness to gaze at the trembling, terrified goblin. “In return for answering my questions, I will give you a half hour head start. Once the timer starts, I, personally, will do absolutely nothing to hinder or harm you, save in self defense, until those thirty minutes have passed.”
“Deal, deal!” The goblin screamed.
Eric rubbed his hands. “Awesome! Now come on, fill my ears with your juicy secrets! I’ve got blasters to claim and places to be.” He then squeezed the top of the trembling goblin’s head. “And just a little tip here. A friendly FYI.” His almost jovial voice turned to a hiss. “I’ve got friends and contacts in New York. And Master Criminal perks that means I always Know the Score. So if your story doesn’t check out, or if I sense you bullshitting me…” He chuckled merrily once more. “Well, you already know what happens next, don’t you? There’s a good boy!”
Congratulations! You have successfully claimed 3 Mark II Blaster Rifles and three additional power packs for a total of 543 charges! NOTE Mark II Blaster Rifles are forbidden within this newly ascended planet! - Master Criminal Perk negates all legal penalties and fines. Spoils of War condition negates all legal penalties and fines. (Note! These weapons may still be seized and confiscated by rightful authorities, with due compensation sent to an authorized bank or neutral third party.)
You have successfully claimed 3 stilettos covered in BRONZE-tier toxins! - Warning! These artifacts must be turned over to proper authorities (or destroyed) regardless of perks, or risk suffering SIGNIFICANT repercussions!
Eric smirked at the last notification, while flipping all the other toys into his ES Space, quietly relieved that he had gone full Leeroy Jenkins, because an armless goblin assassins was one that COULDN’T stab you in the back with Bronze tier poison. As to whether it would have actually broken his skin with their power differential, and whether or not those Blaster Rifles could even inflict critical wounds on him at this point were questions he had no interest in answering, simply glad that the tools were out of his enemy’s hands, with fresh bone sheaths made for each stiletto he quickly put in his ES Space.
He winked at the look of absolute apoplectic hate Vooch gave him after noting how the little armless goblin always kept shifting his posture when Eric prepared to start up the veli.
When Eric snorted and lifted the goblin up by his stringy strands of greasy hair, he couldn’t help but shake his head in bemused admiration.
Because of course the fucker was trying to pivot his Bronze-tier poisoned holdout knife with his butt cheeks alone.
Eric then turned to gaze down at the now quaking goblin in his hand, giving him a mocking thumbs up.
“Wow. A+ for effort, and another knife for me. By the way, you do know what’s going to happen if you don’t make me VERY happy in the next twenty minutes or so, don’t you?”
“Please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It was just professional habit!”
“Sure it was. And how exactly you expected to stab me with your ass cheeks… you know what? I don’t even want to know. Let’s focus on what matters! Tell me all about the New York Federal Gold Reserve that we all know wasn’t nearly as defunct as dear Uncle Sam liked to pretend!”
“There’s no way you’ll ever break in!” Vooch snarled, glaring with wild-eyed hate Eric’s way. “The security measures will hamstring you! The killers we have on duty will make sure you never survive your fifth step without triple clearance! Our vaults are laced with Durantium and Mithril! The gold’s ours! We rightfully seized it, and we’re never giving it back! Never, never, never!”
Eric’s grin widened. “I got a Master Criminal perk that says otherwise. Details, Vooch, I want details.” He paused in his attempts to get the veli started, turning to peer into beady little eyes filled with inconceivable hate.
“And if you actually steer me right, and can give me the shifts, rotations, and blueprints to the vault… maybe I’ll do more than just let you live.”
Vooch stiffened, his curses freezing on his lips, clearly hanging on to his every word, as Eric’s What The Other Party Wants perk made it damned clear that vinegar alone wasn’t going to win him this round.
Eric sighed, gazing out the windshield for long thoughtful moments when he finally got the Veli moving, surprised by just how smoothly it ran when he fed it just the tiniest stream of mana. Still, he kept it slow, hovering just a few feet above the ground at a jogger’s pace as he got his thoughts in order, before turning to the utterly silent goblin.
“So, Vooch... how’d you like a quarter share?”