CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ninja

Day 76

A monstrous howl pierced the silence of the old, ruined house—a cry of raw agony and desperation. The noise came from a creature lying in a heap near the room's center. Its legs were mangled, its tusks broken, and numerous cuts oozed dark, thick blood. Its dirty fur was matted with the same crimson fluid, having turned its once bushy brown coat into a sticky, tangled mess. A large smear of blood led away from the monster, tracing a path to a partially broken staircase where it had been dragged from. It howled and hissed, trying to move but only managing a feeble twitch.

Minutes passed like this before the sound of heavy footfalls broke the quiet once more. Three of its kin rushed into the building, their snarls and growls echoing through the crumbling walls as they clattered inside. They leaped over debris, powerful limbs moving through the ruined terrain, passing piles of old clothes and broken furniture.

The newcomers resembled their wounded kin but bore unique traits. One had three large tusks jutting menacingly from its jaw; another boasted grey fur and a bulkier frame, suggesting greater strength. The third had over a dozen eyes, some oozing a sickly yellow puss. The three monsters fanned out, sniffing the air and the surroundings as they searched the room for any sign of a threat. One moved to a broken sofa, its snout probing the torn fabric, while another sniffed at a large pile of old, moldy, moth-eaten clothes. The third, with its extra eyes, examined a moldy mattress in the corner before it ran up the creaking stairs to check the floor above.

The largest monster, with grey fur and a large frame, stopped near its mauled kin, sniffing at the wounds with a mix of curiosity and anger. The wounded monster let out a pained hiss, triggering something in its grey-furred kin. Without warning, the large monster attacked, sinking its uneven teeth into the wounded creature’s chest and tearing out chunks of flesh. The wounded monster’s howl of pain cut short as its throat was ripped out, the sound dying in a gurgle of blood. The mutilated body twitched a few more times before finally going still, its agony at an end.

The grey-furred monster didn’t stop with its initial attack. It continued to tear into its fallen kin, gnawing on the limbs and torso with savage intensity. Blood dripped from its jaws and tusks as it chewed on the remains, the sound of crunching bones filling the room. After devouring a decent bit of the creature’s body, it moved to the head, crushing the skull with its powerful jaws in a sickening crunch. The grey-furred monster then paused, its body convulsing as it retched, vomiting out the Monster-Glass and bits of brain onto the ground with a splash of bile before resuming its gruesome feast.

As it continued, the second monster returned from its search upstairs. It tripped and slid awkwardly down the stairs before joining the others. When the creature reached them, it let out a low growl and assumed an aggressive posture, its many eyes focused and alert. The grey-furred monster stopped its feasting, lifted its head, and let out a deep warning growl at its kin, blood dripping from its maw. It was poised to attack, ready to assert its dominance, when it noticed the other monster wasn't looking at it, but past it.

Slowly, the grey-furred creature turned to see what had captured its comrade’s attention. Near the front door, lying in a massive pool of blood, was the monster that had guarded the entrance. A large, deep cut circled its throat, its lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Both remaining monsters snarled and hissed, eyes wide with alarm. They cautiously approached their fallen kin near the doorway, hissing nervously, trying to figure out what had happened.

Suddenly, the pile of clothes next to the body shifted and moved forward as the upper part of a human figure wrapped in cloth rose up, a flash of steel following in its wake before embedding an axe inside a monster’s skull. The grey-furred monster roared in fury at the death of its kin and charged at the figure. Before it could reach the threat, the figure and the clothes shot downward, sinking into the floor and disappearing entirely. The monster skidded to a halt, glaring at the hole now visible in the floor leading to the basement.

The remaining monster, now alone and enraged, roared, its bloodshot eyes darting around the room. In a frenzy, it clawed at the hole before giving up and charging through the ruined house, smashing into walls and knocking over debris. The impact sent broken pieces of furniture flying, and the floorboards creaked and groaned under its weight. It rammed into a half-collapsed door, shattering it with brute force and tumbling down the stairs into the basement.

The fall was painful, the monster’s body crashing into the hard, cold floor. It stood up with a snarl, its movements erratic. It dashed left and right, bumping into walls in the pitch-black darkness, hissing each time it tripped over forgotten tools scattered about. The creature’s breaths came in ragged, angry bursts, the scent of blood and dust thick in the air. A sudden clang of metal echoed behind it, causing the monster to spin around and rush toward the sound, only to end up colliding headfirst with a wall.

Dazed, it heard a low chuckle from the opposite side of the room, followed by things scattering across the floor, creating a cacophony of noise that echoed in the enclosed space and disoriented it further. Confused and panicked, the monster growled and lashed out at the darkness, its claws swiping at nothing or hitting bits of the basement wall. Every few seconds, a sharp blade cut into its flanks, slicing through fur and flesh, without the creature able to retaliate. Each wound sapped more of its strength, its many legs growing weaker with every passing moment.

The monster’s growls turned into pained whimpers as it backed away, desperately trying to find a way out. It spun around, eyes wide with fear, searching for the stairs. Just then, a small flame flickered to life in front of it, revealing a steel and plastic humanoid figure wrapped in cloth, holding a lit lighter and a knife.

“Hey there, champ,” the robot said, voice cold and mechanical.

In a swift motion, Specter stabbed the monster through its neck, twisting the blade before ripping it out. The flame was extinguished, plunging the room back into darkness and preventing the monster from retaliating. The monster howled in pain, but the sound was reduced to a gurgle as blood rushed out of the wound, spraying across the floor and down its throat into its lungs. It staggered, desperate to escape, crawling and falling as it moved up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind. Just a dozen steps into the room above, the monster collapsed, its vision blurring. Its body struggled to function, weakened and disoriented from the loss of blood.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

It heard footsteps behind it, slow and deliberate. The figure that had hunted it stepped into view, shedding torn clothes to reveal more of its true form. Clad in blood-drenched black clothes, with parts of a robotic steel frame and plastic plating visible underneath, the robot's three cameras glowed a cold light blue. They were arranged in a triangle: one larger on top and two smaller below. The monster gurgled one final time, feeling the coldness of death creeping over it. Its body tensed, the last of its strength leaving it as it lay there, defeated and dying.

Specter squatted down, grabbing the monster by the back of its head and forcing it to stare into the synthetic eyes of a merciless predator. He paused, as if deciding something, his cold blue lights reflecting in the monster’s fading eyes.

“That’s for Oscar,” the robot said softly before slicing the monster’s neck further, forcing it to bleed out even quicker while staring at him. A few agonizing seconds passed, the monster’s body twitching as the last vestiges of life left it. Almost casually, the robot ripped the Glass from the back of the dead monster’s head with a sick wet pop. Specter stood up, his mechanical frame covered in the creature’s blood, and retrieved his gear along with the other Glass pieces in the house.

- - -

Specter passed through the barrier a few minutes later, easing through the gel-like substance. He ignored the countless crystalline fragments around him and slid out the other side, quickly readjusting his hoodie to keep his robotic head covered. He looked up at the night sky, free of its usual blue hue, and appreciated its beauty for a few moments, relieved that he no longer had to constantly look over his shoulder. He then made his way towards the house he had used for storage, retracing his steps.

Upon reaching the old house, he retrieved the bag he had stored there, depositing the Monster-Glass bits he had collected into a small plastic container. He counted them carefully, ensuring he had accounted for each piece before putting the lid back on to seal the container. Specter then grabbed his phone and switched it on to check the time. A moment later, he activated his HUD and synchronized his internal clock, noting again how accurate it had become. ‘God, I wish I had this back in high school,’ he thought before switching off his HUD.

“Not bad for 23 hours of work,” he muttered to himself. A moment later, the phone buzzed as it regained signal, revealing a new concept email from one of his other versions. He replied to the email, saying he was on his way before dumping his phone in his bag. After grabbing his things, he stepped out of the old house, readjusting his torn raincoat so the hood covered most of his features. Then, he made his way to his father’s old gym.

Stepping inside, he switched to night vision and noticed fresh footsteps in the dust. He followed the footsteps, carefully stepping into them to lessen his own presence, aiming to make this habit instinctual.

He knocked his metal fist against the door leading to his father’s office, pausing for a second before opening it. As he stepped inside, he saw Marcus sitting behind the desk with his feet propped up, eating a protein bar. ‘He looks less pale compared to yesterday,’ Specter thought before shifting his gaze to the right. Bastion sat on the ground in the corner, with his spear and shield beside him, watching a video clip on his phone about Breachers discussing tactics and monster subtypes.

Marcus looked at Specter, as if checking for damage, before speaking up, “How did it go?”

Specter tossed his bag to Marcus in a high arc, and he caught it easily. “63 pieces. And bits of brain tissue, so you know it’s fresh.”

Bastion let out a low whistle as he switched off his phone and joined Specter and Marcus. “How was it? Fighting during the day?” the large robot asked, its voice now less like Marcus’s as it started to embrace its new identity.

“Honestly? A bit weird after all the night sessions we had. Visibility’s better, but it ruined any chance at stealth,” Specter admitted with a shrug. “I had to change tactics during the day.”

“How much damage did you take?” Marcus asked, placing the bag on the desk without checking the Glass inside.

Specter grabbed the bottom of his hoodie and slowly lifted it, revealing his torso. Some of the plastic plating had chipped edges or small stress lines. "Not much happened. I took a few swings and a kick when I messed up my footing earlier today. The monsters are like a mix of boar and dog, maybe wolf. They’re fast, with many limbs and nasty tusks, but they couldn’t find me in the dark. They relied more on smell and hearing. And they suck at climbing.”

“That’s good to hear,” Marcus said, moving closer to Specter with a wide grin. “Was it weird fighting for an entire day?”

“See for yourself,” Specter said, making a fist with his left hand and holding it out. Marcus pressed his own fist against Specter’s, and the connection formed instantly.

Specter felt a torrent of Marcus’s memories: the painful upgrading session of his stats and the horrible state he’d been in the next morning. He recalled how Marcus had focused on getting a decent meal, doing a light workout, adding a new modification to Bastion, and then going to bed in the afternoon to be well-rested and full of Mana. At the same time, Marcus experienced Specter’s battles from the last 23 hours, starting with violent skirmishes and evolving into more stealthy, predatory approaches as Specter gradually changed his tactics. He learned that Specter fought for two hours at a time, taking small breaks to stay sharp and avoid mental fatigue. Marcus also became aware of how the monsters killed one another to bury Glass pieces in the ground.

Marcus stepped back after a few seconds, breaking the connection. He shook his head as he recovered before speaking up. “You changed up your style a bit, huh?”

Specter nodded, then calmly grabbed his axe and dagger, holding them out in front of him as if to demonstrate something. “Fighting head-on has its merits. Dad used to be like that,” he said, flinging the axe upwards and catching it as it came down. “But that was in his youth. When he got older, he started using his head more, focusing on technique and setting up counters. Remember what he always said to Martin?”

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, only for Bastion to interrupt them. “Brawn is the violent storm, yet a sharp mind will always be its thunder.”

Specter nodded, then flicked the knife upwards, snatching it out of the air a moment later. “I figured I’d take that to heart—change my style to sustain as little damage as possible while inflicting as much as I can. Like a—”

“A knife in the back. Sort of like a ninja,” Bastion suddenly said, earning an approving nod from the other robot.

“That and traumatize the poor bastards with the horrors you’ve inflicted upon them,” Marcus muttered, recalling how Specter often took down smaller groups, yet kept one of them alive to lure in others. Other times, Specter simply fought them in the darkness. “Less ninja and more Eldritch horror from the shadows.”

“Hey, it’s effective. What can I say?” Specter countered before putting away his weapons and staring at Marcus and the other robot. “So, are you boys ready to go in?”

Bastion grabbed his shield and spear in response, slamming them together before stepping out of the office, leaving Marcus and Specter behind.

“As protective as always. Bastion’s really taking the whole big sister routine to heart, huh?”

“Says the robotic version of my father,” Marcus sighed, grabbing his bag and fishing out the protective steel gear he and his uncle had bought. He carefully put it on, piece by piece, tightening the straps. “I think it’s safe to say that all three versions of me are messed up beyond repair,” Marcus said, putting on his helmet and fiddling with the strap. “But we work with what we’ve got, right?”

Specter nodded, then pointed at the Glass in the container. “There’s sixty Glass there, enough to upgrade another stat. We could use it up here and go in later? We also have some Glass left over at home.”

Marcus shook his head, zipped up the bag, and threw it to Specter, who caught it. “No, I promised you I’d be a bit more mature, right?” he said as he grabbed his own things. “No more stabbing myself in the chest inside a Sphere or right before I step inside one. Come on, Bastion’s waiting.”

The two of them left the office to join their third member, then made their way toward the Sphere again.