Chapter 18
Slate
“Ding bitches,” I whispered when the voice announced my level up. It was about freaking time. Even though the leveling seemed slow to me, it really wasn’t all that bad. It was just frustrating not having an EXP bar. Without it, there was no easy way to gage how many more monsters I needed to murder until I leveled again. I had leveled the first time after killing person and a dog, the second after a pack of rats, and the third a goblin tribe plus a random cannibal. When you look at it like that, the pace was actually a lot faster than most games I have played. It was not knowing when I would level that bothered me though. The Canni had casually mentioned the ability to know when he was close to leveling, but I had not asked how. It was yet another thing to work on when if I found the time and had a safe place to do so.
Oh well, “Level 4 mofo’s, here I come.”
I received my usual announcement of stats, and opportunity to add to one. I was half tempted to take another point in mind, but paused to contemplate all the options and think through the information given. The Canni’s seemed to have their physical stats broken up, unlike my seemingly totally encapsulating Body attribute. So assuming that 25% is across the board, I was currently 50% better with every aspect of my body, 25% smarter and 50% better at using Ki. This implied a couple of things. First that my unseen vitality stat was also only 50% higher than it used to be. That was the recovery attribute according to Hannibal Lector over there.
My body was healing a lot faster than a simple 50% booster would explain. Wounds that used to take a month to recover from were healing in less than a week, even less if cycled Ki. I could not tell it was a passive benefit of the Ki, but so far everything I have done with Ki has needed conscious direction. So it must be an ability I acquired, or a mutation, like my nightvision.
This meant I might be overpowered after all, if I could live long enough to get there anyways. Of course, the Canni packs have been out there leveling for two months, and they don’t even need to kill things to get stronger. It explained who had been eating all the bodies lying around, and it seemed like a pretty OP way to level to me. I guess it would still depend on how fast they leveled up. In the short term with the masses of people dying it seemed like a stupidly strong class. In the long term, with the loss of half of their attribute points and lack of easy EXP, it would nerf the class tremendously. If everyone else has split physical attributes then the Body stat would put me leagues beyond them, even if we were at the same level numerically. I should have questioned that freak longer before killing him. There were so many questions that needed answered, like what other stats and classes that were out there. He still needed to die of course, but I shouldn’t have allowed him to rush his death along like I did.
“I choose Body,” I announced, and immediately grew stronger. Body seemed to be my cheat stat at the moment, and I would probably stick to it until gaining more knowledge about the new world.
Speaking of gear, I patted down the man-eater. I discarded a blood stained Swiss-Army knife and dumped out the duffle bag onto the ground. It was mostly clothing, pictures and keep sakes that where were completely useless. The crazy fucker apparently only had that pocket knife on him for a weapon. Wow. Grab a stick bro, or something amazing, like a pitchfork. A picture of what must have been his wife or girlfriend brought me low for a brief moment. It humanized him, and made his death seem more real. It was short lived though, since it was lying beside the bloody leg that was left of his dinner.
Again, I was strangely numb to after killing another human being. I don’t know if it was the circumstances or what, but it wasn’t really affecting me. In my head, I had some idea in my head that killing another human being should matter on some deep emotional level. Currently I was zero for two on that account, and I was starting to worry that I was turning into a sociopath. Calling what I did murder was a strong word for putting down what was essentially a rabid animal, but still, he was people. I’ll have to pay close attention to my feelings in the future. I don’t want to transform into a monster myself.
The military green duffle bag had more of a carrying capacity than my high school backpack and was fairly clean, so it was kept as an upgrade. It was wadded up and tied it to the back of my Jan-Sport for now as the backpack was more still convenient to carry.
The duffle would be used for clothing, extra food and other convenient but none vital items. Something I could drop and leave behind if necessary. All and all it was not the best piece of loot, but it was at least japtem worth picking up. There were no shirts that would come close to fitting me in his belongings so I moved on, leaving the leg and the corpse for the worms.
I was about three miles into my approximately six mile journey to the mall so far and it had taken more than a day and a half to get here. That pace was too slow. Even without sustaining an injury, my encounter with the winner of a Freddy Kruger lookalike contest slowed me down another hour or so. It was frustrating to be able to run the distance in 35 minutes but being forced move at a crawl in order to travel safely. Still, it was just not worth the risk to move faster. I decided to maintain stealth-mode and attached a conflict avoidance modifier to it.
It was time to hide from everything, people, monsters, puppies, whatever. Well, not puppies, I mean who doesn’t want to have a dog to follow them around in a wasteland. Mad Max had a dog after all, and he was a total badass. But everything else would be avoided, dungeons ignored, and Rapunzel left in her tower until I had better gear. From the sun, it was now late afternoon. With a little bit of help from a long lost acquaintance, Lady Luck, I could still make it there today.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. The next mile went like that for me. The highway turned into a city street and was now passing through urban development instead of being hidden by trees. I spotted my first pack of lost, a group of 8 of them playing follow the leader, but was able to hide and avoid them. They did not notice me and seemed still reliant upon sight to hunt, like normal humans. At the very least they did not have enhanced smell, because I smelled like straight up butthole from my nasty night in the van. They got within 50 feet of me and would have gotten a whiff of my from-unda cheese if they had any kind enhanced nostrils.
It was tough to be sneaky when you’re as big as I am, but when your body control is 75% better than normal you become a quick study. It was about patience, lines of sight, and waiting for the right time to move. Finding one hiding spot, waiting and observing and then quickly moving to the next seemed to be the key. Back in my fatass days, a whole 2 months ago, my excessive weight combined with my weakening chicken legs caused me to clomp around noisily in my size fifteen boots. Now I felt strong and light. I was able to focus on my foot placement, and it was like my improved stats were making me instinctually move on the balls of my feet. I was just always in balance.
Even though I felt like a ghost, I was not invisible. A pair of mutated canines got the jump on me in an alleyway despite my best efforts. The two were bedded down as I was sneaking through, and they came after me like a free lunch once they noticed me. Hyperaware, with bow in hand and an arrow strung, I was ready. A quick lucky shot landed in the first ones torso, knocking it down and stopping its momentum. There was no time for another arrow so I was forced to drop the bow roughly to the cement, cringing at the crunching sound it made as it the ground. I sidestepped the second’s hounds lunging attack and drew my half-hatchet as we turned on each other. It was more cautious and began lunging at my ankles. I took some quick hops back before I figured out the timing, but I caught it in the ribs with my hatchet soon enough.
Neither of the blows killed the creatures in one shot, and it took a little time to finish them off safely. The whole encounter left me feeling stupidly proud of myself for avoiding damage. I seemed to finally be learning how to fight.
“It has been around 12 hours since the last workplace injury,” I giggled after killing them. Something, maybe the unquantifiable gain of experience, got to me. There must be something to this world that made killing things feel good. I felt high on life, strong, and powerful.
The addition to my strength, dexterity and every other unnamed body attribute was again noticeable during the fight. The animals seemed slower, like they were moving through a film of wax. My mind raced to tell the body how to react, and it did so well enough that I easily took care of two of the monsters that nearly destroyed me at level 1. I was capable of more though. It seemed as if my mind was lagging behind my body again. My brain just functioning fast enough that it realized that I could not fully utilize my advancing body. Maybe keeping the stats even might be the way to go. Where were all the smart kids with their DPS spreadsheets when I needed them? Like almost everything else in this changed world, I would just have to figure it out as I stumbled along.
The packs of lost grew more frequent as I worked my way to the mall, and they seemed to be the only predators out in the open. Some packs moved with purpose, while some walked around as if strolling through the park on a sunny day. They tended to avoid each other for the most part, but I did witness two of the leaders approach and speak to each other while their packs remained a respectful distance away.
I cannot imagine what the two freaks would be talking about, but it sure wasn’t the weather. Staring at the groups and wanting their experience, I had to stifle a sudden urge to kill them. In my mind’s eye, I could flow through the packs leaving destruction and death in my wake if I only had training and a weapon. It was all just a dream though, my ability to do so in reality was practically non-existent. I felt for their strength and found the peons to be about the same as mine, if maybe a little lower. The leaders were the problem, they were as far above me as the heavens are over the earth. Creepy ass rape monsters better hope I don’t get me a giant sword after a few more levels. I’d chop them all up. For now though, I’ll continue to hide.
The rest of the trip ended up being extremely tedious. The cycle of wait, watch, move and hide continued. I got stuck in the hide phase at one point for over an hour, while a group of wild dogs ate what looked to be a mutated deer. I cheered on the normal looking canines in silence, but was not willing to risk being the next target of their hunt. Soon enough they finished their meal, I was able to move on. Eventually, I made it to the mall just as it was getting dark.
It was an older set buildings, more of a collection of shops then a mall. They had been remodeled to fit the needs of the various stores that had come and gone through the years. The whole plot was a rectangle, with a communal parking lot and the stores lined up facing it in an L shape. The Riverside Antique Mall was only antique in its name, the rest had stayed fairly modern.
There were only 5 shops in the mall. The mainstay and longest part of the L was a Food Lion grocery store. A Subway and the connecting sword store, which was appropriately named Joe’s Sweet Sword Shop, comprised the crook of the L. An off brand clothing shop called the Thomas Collection and a flower shop with a busted sign filled up the rest of the complex. The parking lot was mostly empty, like almost all of the lots I had found. It was a polar opposite of the roads. People had either made it home when the light fell, or had gotten stuck on the roads in their attempting to evacuate the dangerous monsters of the city.
I decided to avoid all the large windowed fronts, knowing there would be far less exposure if I approached from the back. As I worked my way around from the flower shop side, I had to stop behind their company van and hide from another small pack of lost. They were only four in the group with no apparent leader. It was the first time I had seen a group without one. They exited out of the front of the Food Lion and circled west before going behind the buildings. Luckily, they were noisy and I was able to hear them before I could see them, giving me plenty of time to hide behind a van. They looped around to the front of the buildings before re-entering the Food Lion.
The lost were a very twitchy group of former people. They practically pranced from one foot to the next, twisting and jerking like they had severe Tourette’s as they jogged. It seemed like they were trying to look everywhere at once and their heads were constantly moving. For all their apparent efforts, they did not seem to notice much and were more focused their route than anything else.
That had looked a lot like a base patrol. The monsters must be living inside that grocery store. It was actually a pretty good place for hideout. There would be plenty of food inside, well if their diet did not force them to eat people all the time, and the location was fairly central. It allowed good access to other populated areas of the city for potential raiding. That was assuming the surrounding areas still had people holed up in their houses and apartment complexes. There had to be some normal people left, I couldn’t have been the only idiot to survive.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Not wanting to get caught red handed while breaking into the back of the sword shop, I held my position and waited to see if it was a patrol. Sure enough after about thirty minutes the same group made another lap.
It was time for a little experiment to see how much they could observe and remember. If I kicked in the back door of the shop, it would be bloody obvious to anyone who looked at it. I needed to find out if they would recognize it and act on what they saw. The van I was still behind was unlocked and the keys were in the cup holder. I forced the thing into neutral and pushed it as hard as I could towards side of the flower shop. It was little downhill, so once rolling the vehicle started picking up momentum. It hit the building with a resounding crash as I was scampering farther away to a new observation point across the street.
The patrol came out immediately, responding to the noise. From where they exited the building it was obvious that they could see the van, but they went west again. Like a train stuck on its tracks and unable to avoid a collision that it could already see, they were stuck in on a predetermined path and unable to deviate. They circled the building and passed the wreck without pause before going back inside. Yea, they were not so bright, but that was a good thing.
The route must have been taught to them by one of those leaders, the smart cannibals. Extrapolating from my observations, it meant they were smart enough to follow simple instructions but not intelligent enough to notice changes in the surrounding environment. I stretched out with the new sense and felt that individually they were weaker than me, but not by much.
As neat as my little science project was, I was still needed better gear. With about thirty minutes before they patrolled again, I ran to the rear of Joe’s. Breaking down the metal security door was going to make a ton of noise, so I tried alternative means. After a failed attempt to jimmy it open with my pocket knife, I ran back to the Van and tried the keys. No luck there either, so I resorted back to force. The door opened inward, and was on a metal frame. It was similar to a door on a drug dealers house that I had to kick open back in my policing days. It had taken me about 10 minutes of effort to finally break the thing down. I didn’t have the luxury making that type of continuous racket now though, this was going to have to be done fast. I set down my bow, took a few steps back and reinforced my legs with Ki. A long hopping power step into a thundering front kick smashed into the door with a resounding boom. The impact cracked the deadbolt and bent the frame. A second kick deformed it enough I could lever it inwards and slip past. After grabbing my bow, I went shopping.
There were some crates in the back which were labeled as containing packaged weapons, but I wanted to check out the display models first. Thinking about the development of my stats on the way in, I had already made some choices about the kind of weapon to use. With my overpowered body stat, and if I could ever get my fucking Ki to work with my arms, a two handed weapon should make me nearly unstoppable. The extra reach combined with the ability to hit things hard and fast should make up for my severe lack of skill. Hopefully that would keep me alive long enough to figure it out how to fight properly.
I snuck through to the front expecting to hide from the patrol while looking at the weapons. I was anxious to find a giant flamberge, a zweihander, or even the Japanese style nodachi. So equipped I would go and clear out Jessica’s apartment complex, rescue her and then ride away into the sunset.
But that didn’t happen. The shop had already been raided, apparently several times over. The only things left were broken weapons and junk. I shifted through the remaining gear, hoping for some decent sloppy seconds, and found a couple swords that looked decent laying on the ground. Upon picking them up I could tell they were for display only. The swords rattled loose from hilts that were not connected to the blades correctly. I would be afraid to stab a barn cat with any one of them. After finding nothing in the front of the store, I collapsed against a glass display counter and started cussing under my breath. I was preparing to stand up and go look the boxes in the back when I saw humongous a mace and shield that had been dumped unceremoniously to the floor behind the counter.
Afraid to hope, I approached them slowly. They had been mounted on the wall above the cashier’s register before being pulled to the ground, possibly as a representation of the store’s machismo or general awesomeness. They were big enough for it, and quite shiny as well. They looked to be both be made out of matching stainless steel. Picking them up I knew instantly why no one had looted them. They more than twice as heavy as their average equivalent, and it would take something more than human to wield properly. Holding them both, I knew that with my strength they would be barely useable for now, but I would grow into them in time.
The shield was a Viking style round shield. Instead of being made of wood it was stainless steel, and painted black and red for a stunning visual effect. With the flashy looks came a price. From prior googling in between my gaming sessions, I knew that most shields worn by foot soldiers only weighed in at 6-10 pounds. Anyone who thinks that those shields would be light and easy to use has never tried to hold one for an extended period of time. At around 35 pounds this gaudy shield was a monstrosity. No normal human would have been able to lift it for long, and it had obviously only ever been intended to be displayed on a wall. Oddly for such an unpractical armor, it came equipped with a rugged leather carrying sling, for over the shoulder carry when not in use.
The mace was a monster as well. It was a 36 inch rod of steel and weighed around twenty-five pounds. It had a flanged head on one end and a hand and a half sharkskin grip on the other. There was no guard above the handle, but there was a handy dandy wrist strap, the kind you would see on Bobby’s batons in London. There was also a thick leather belt against the wall that matched the mace, and had a metal ring attached so it could be shoved through. Excited that my trip was going to be successful after all, I picked up both and took them to the back and out of sight of the front glass windows.
Setting them aside for now, I rummaged through every box found in the storage area, as well as every office, locker and storage unit I could find. Mostly all I found were junk items, like non-functional cosplay armor made from painted styrophom and cardboard, or weapons made so poorly or so impractically that they would not survive the first contact with an enemy. Finally what seemed like forever, I found something of else of worth. Inside the employee break area were a few lockers. One still had a lock on it, but someone had attempted to pry it open at some point. The bottom half was bent and there were two broken short swords on the ground nearby that looked to have been used as levers. Hoping nothing would notice the noise, I used the hammer portion of my half hatchet to break the lock off.
The locker contained most of a Roman Centurion’s outfit. It had a heavy metal studded leather skirt made of thick straps that hung down to a few inches above the knee on an average sized person. Possibly the best find yet were the thick bronze forearm and shin guards. They were leather backed and covered with a strip of bronze painted steel, and only covered the front part of the intended body part. I pulled them out and almost started dancing with happiness when their adjustable straps fit on my forearms and calves. I attempted to put the skirt on as well, but the belt just was not big enough for my waist. I left it be and picked up what had been hidden behind it. Seeing the functional gladius in its sheath, I realized I had finally found my man sized knife.
The 18 inch long, two sided weapon was used heavily by the Roman Legions and was often underestimated due to its short length. The Romans did not conquer 21 % of the world’s population because they were bigger and stronger than others, but because they were smarter and better prepared. They built roads for troop and troop support, and they were also able to field better trained and equipped soldiers. Full time soldiers that were trained to fight as a group was something few populatoins could afford to do at that time. There used to be almost no full time soldiers in the olden days. Mostly they were farmers who had be conscripted or chose to fight to defendant their homes. Farmers could not afford to take weeks off, leaving their fields to be overgrown, while they trained with their neighbors. On the battlefield they would just clump up and charge in mass and attempt to overwhelm the enemy.
These tactics did not work against the Romans, and caused the majority of armies to be slaughtered. The massed hordes broke against a Roman shield-walls. The deceptively short gladius would flicker between the shields to slaughter the poor conscripts who were stuck in the front, having been pushed into the wall by their neighbors behind them. Thus the gladius ended up being one of the finest swords to have ever been designed. But people were smaller in those days as well. The average height of a Roman citizen was only 5 foot 6 inches. In my huge hands it was more of a knife instead of a sword, but it fit my needs well.
Wearing my new armor, I affixed my gladius to the mace’s leather belt and put it all on. It was a little uncomfortable and fit snugly over my jeans, but it felt like something you would get used to wearing, like my old duty belt. The man-knife was placed on my weak side, as it felt easier to cross draw it with my main hand. I picked up the mace and shield and practiced as much as I could in the cramped space. The shield was just too much for me right now, but I could probably use it for a short time if needed. The mace was surprisingly well balanced for such a monstrous thing but I was tiring quickly attempting to keep them both under control. Placing the shield down, I continued practicing with the mace in both one hand and later two. Swinging the heavy weapon made me gave me a feeling of power that I never felt with my little pitchfork.
I fought imaginary foes in the room, moving the large piece of metal around while raining crushing damage on invisible foes. After a time I stopped, out of breath and sweating. The mace was a monster and put a heavy strain on my body, but with time I felt we could become one.
When I was finished playing make-believe, having already conquering a small town in my mind, there were several screams out in front of the shop. I crept towards the front of the shop and looked towards the Food Lion. A group of ten lost were playing follow the leader with their boss, and four of them were carrying people like they were human happy meals. I could not tell from the distance which was which, but there were both female and male screams in the air. I sympathized, and sure as hell would be screaming too if I had been captured alive by cannibal rape monsters.
Just like most stories of intense depravity, it was one thing to hear about and another to see it happening. I wanted to stop it but I also did not want to spend my life in a wasted effort. There was just no chance of surviving a fight with such a large pack in anything resembling a fair fight. It figures that the first time I see normal looking people, there would be no way for me to meet them. I thought briefly about a rescue mission, but quickly discarded it hopeless. There were at least fourteen regular mobs in the form of lost, and one boss creature that was so far out of my weight class that I would be one shot did not make the decision that though.
!!!QUEST ALERT!!!
Greetings Desmond Slattery and congratulations! You have been selected to complete an order from the gods! The four humans that you have observed in the custody of the cannibals need to be saved. You are the hero who has been selected to rescue them, and for your efforts you will be rewarded!
Rewards: Variable, depends on how well you complete the quest.
Penalties for failure: Variable; you must make an honest attempt at saving the hostages, or you will be punished.
Like the Voice, this so called Quest Alert boomed across my consciousness in a way that is difficult to describe. I could hear it, see it and understand it, yet there was nothing audible or visible about it. It had that familiar sense of frightening power and I could feel myself yearning to complete the task, but it was nothing that I couldn’t ignore.
Fuck that shit. Even without all the adds, the leader alone would kill me in an instant. As long as he is inside there was no chance of my rescuing anyone. Better to take the punishment and hope it’s not too harsh, then to commit suicide by accepting the quest.
Feeling silly, I looked up and talked to the ceiling of the store, “Um, hello…..so yea, I am not anywhere near strong enough to take those guys on, and I don’t wanna be raped and eaten, so….no thanks on the whole quest thing. I’m going to pass.”
A bright flash of light and pain overwhelmed all of my senses, and I felt my body collapsing upon itself. The next forever was horrible agony. The torment was greater than anything I had felt in my life, far surpassing my many previous near-death injuries. At least when I was dying, I usually fell unconscious and missed the worst of the pain. Not this time though, instead I spent an indeterminate amount of time feeling different horrible ways to die. I burned from the inside, was frozen and shattered, experienced death from a thousand cuts and was drawn and quartered. Many other of the deaths were so extravagant that I could not even recognize how I being tortured.
It seemed like it continued for an eternity, but when it stopped I knew no time had passed at all.
!!!QUEST ALERT!!!
Punishment issued: Pain, perminant loss of growth amplifier Soul.
Hey dumbass, you must attempt this quest or you will continue to be punished. You will most likely die when during the rescue attempt it, but that’s what I’ve got my money on anyways. If you do not attempt it you will continued to be punished until we decide to kill you anyways.
“Arghhhh, you motherfuckers!” Shouting I circled the room, destroying everything I could reach. “Not only did you murder almost everyone, but you can’t even at least give me a fucking chance to live? Fucking assholes!”
An invisible force picked me up and threw me across the room into a cinderblock wall. I hit hard enough to crack the cement blocks, but strangely other than the pain from the impact I was uninjured.
!!!Quest Alert!!!
Punishment issued: Ki pathways damaged
The reason why you got good amplifiers is because we thought you could be interesting. Now attempt the quest before I decide to torture you for eternity. You’re only getting weaker every time you piss me off.
“Fuck you!” I screamed again. These “Gods” or whatever they are must be able to read my mind, because even though I was still cussing them, I fully intended to attempt the quest. What other choice did I have?
I sat down for a minute to think. Pulling myself into a sitting lotus pose, I attempted to meditate. It took me a long time to find my center, but eventually I was able to fall into my usual trance. I cycled some Ki while considering what had just happened. I immediately knew something was different, broken even, when the Ki cycled. It seemed like the pathways in my upper body had been warped or destroyed. I could not tell what exactly was wrong, only that something was not right. Losing my Soul attribute, what they called an amplifier, was frustrating, but not an immediate issue. I didn’t know what it did anyways. I had been relying on my Ki though, so the damage to it could be the end of me. I got up and focused the tiniest amount into my legs in order to see if my few trained abilities still worked. Thankfully they did. I could still reinforce myself to run faster, jump, lunge and kick. I sighed audibly with relief when I found out my limited bag of tricks was still in play. I decided to put off finding out what had been done to my “pathways” until later. It wouldn’t matter anyways if I didn’t survive the upcoming rescue attempt.
Calling the attributes amplifiers made a lot of sense. I still thought of them as attributes, but according to what I had learned from the interrogation of the cannibal, the body did get stronger by a certain percentage. The question was whether or not things like Ki, Soul and Magic were useable without the modifiers. I could use my Body and Mind, so it would make sense that I would be able to use the others as well. They just wouldn’t be amplified.
I moved to the front of the store and watched the four canni patrol exit to take a lap while trying to think of a way to rescue their victims without becoming one myself. As the sun finally went down and night took over the world, I began to formulate a plan. Hello Darkness, my old friend, I thought. With no lights I would have a huge advantage when facing other humans, or semi-human cannibals. My nightvision, although limited in distance, would be the key to victory. I would need to keep them confused and distracted so I could fight them as individuals instead of a group, but this could be doable.
Well, as long as I could avoid fighting the leader. Or maybe take him out in some sort of sneak attack. Maybe I could just take one hostage and run for it? I wondered if that would be acceptable.
Fucking “Gods”. Forcing me to risk my ass for their entertainment. Even though my heart had been wanting me to save those unfortunate captured souls, I resented being forced into it. If I was strong enough, I wouldn’t have needed the push. Those people would have already been rescued. I just needed to level up some first. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if I died fighting for a hopeless cause. You would think that I would no longer fear death, but this hopeless mission had me fearing the great unknown again. Unable to fully deal with my feelings I did what any real man would do; I pushed them down deep into my stomach and ignored them. The rescue mission was a go.