I knew better than to interrupt the titanic struggle that had begun atop the Prefect’s desk.
Exchanging looks with Cordo and Lyissa, former officiating over the duelists, we were but mute spectators to the struggle between a Draco stuck in humanoid form squaring off against a mostly recovered Oni half-giant.
Arm wrestling.
They actually decided to settle the ownership of the Arcanotech Winterfield with a contest of strength. However, it did look like the two were in a deadlock. Maybe to be expected, considering both were the same Level, same Class, Racial backgrounds predisposed to martial prowess. Even the female Terran prisoner was invested in the battle – probably sizing us up for her eventual escape, but watching nonetheless.
“The funny thing is that I might be able to make more,” I murmured, gently prying the silver reagent tin from Lyissa.
“And cheat us out of this performance? Jericho, you wouldn’t dare,” she chuckled, pushing me over toward Perez’s still form.
Through whatever convoluted circumstances which led to the fabric of reality becoming rearranged into the hellscape it was now, the one saving grace was that my Rucksack of Holding didn’t turn into a miniature black hole. Magical mishaps of that magnitude, especially for common Tier items like these, were reserved for the utmost unluckiest conditions. The first person to discover that putting one pocket dimension inside another pocket dimension created a ravenous void that sucked in all matter around it into a null space, effectively disintegrating objects and causing massive damage to beings, was one such stroke of misfortune.
Hence why I hadn’t tried to pull anything out of mine except the Triage Kit. Yet, with the number of times I have used the glorified bag of ingredients, it seemed never-ending. Was it a property of the item? Was it Recursion mixing things up? Perhaps it was me, a mechanic of my Class, my Racial Features?
Taking the Kit by the strap, I knelt down beside Perez. He was as still as the grave, lips curled the same way when I shoved the wolfsbane pill into his mouth. It was interesting how this method of Skill: Triage didn’t require my Mana to be channeled into it. There were plenty of instances of Skills only requiring materials costs but pre-Recursion, well, only a few Classes had that Feature.
Including yours truly.
Perez Karish was one of the newest, newer than Maekita, additions to our branch of the Administratum. Well-meaning, young, had dreams of going through what he called a power-trip while living in our World. His assigned Class and stroke of inspiration with how to manage an otherwise incredibly dangerous condition, which required regular artificial life culling in order to regulate its spread, and willingness to offer himself as test subject for his theory earned a bit of a reputation. ‘Crazy Otherworlder’ to some. Most. ‘Out of the box thinker’ to others.
“Diagnose.”
+Diagnose activated. Target is Fireteam member Perez Karish, Level 5 ?Human? Specialist. Special Status condition: Apex Lycan, Progenitor. Status: Incapacitated by Racial weakness.+
I blinked. That information wasn’t there before. However, if Maekita was able to be roused from the Fatally Injured state, maybe it was not too much of a leap to infer other Healing was empowered, including but not limited to the function to discover the problem.
+Specialist Skill: Triage active causing Incapacitated due to ?Human? Racial weakness. Would you like to cancel Triage?+
At least I didn’t have to risk putting my fingers between his teeth to retrieve the pill. Hopefully. I’d rather not have another Hotfix incident.
“Lyissa, can you look up to see if there’s an entry on Lycan or Apex?” I quietly asked, turning to see where the Elf had gotten to. “Or just give me the-“
Something tapped me on the shoulder without another word, palming the SysTablet before it slipped down my chest. I heard the quiet strain of exertion between the two strongest beings in the room trying to politely settle accounts. It must have been wonderful to have the distraction.
Turning the blasted thing on, the display held my name, Class, Level, just as it did before. I suppose we were pushing off the progression review for after Perez was conscious. Tapping the arrows down the list of tabs, I found what the creator of the MagiTek device called the WIKI, expanding out to an A-Z interface on the left, entries taking up most of the right. There weren’t any images to go with my search, though it might be the saving grace which allowed all of this wonderful information to go unread within my lifetime to be stored in one place.
Stars below, I wish I had one of these implanted in my brain.
+Entry: Apex, as relates to Therianthropes. Not to be confused with Alphas in the Hierarchy dynamic, an Apex is the highest Tier of Therianthrope infection. While much more susceptible to Bloodlust, they gain control of both their bestial nature and their subordinates at a quicker rate per Level.+
+Entry: Progenitor, as relates to Therianthropes. The first of their bloodline, especially in regards to tracing original Infection. They retain relatively higher control over their dual nature. Individuals that obtain the Progenitor Feature have greater Infection chance, but their targets are less likely to succumb to Bloodlust. Addendum: Progenitors are a form of Alpha, qualifying as a Company leader for Therianthrope individuals.+
Lightly clapping the SysTablet between my hands, I held my breath.
Held it a little more.
Then a lot longer.
It was much better than shouting gibberish at the wonderful news I had obtained, looking down at our lovable Perez. Seemed he had gotten his wish and more.
His condition made sense after a fashion. He was training hard to be in full control of himself, a perfect predator that willingly took an otherwise negative curse. I’d heard he had been able to help clear most of a Dungeon’s first wing, including the Champion-level boss of that area, by himself. The challenge rating was equivalent to a party of five at Perez’s Level at the time and they had let him ‘wolf out’ as he liked to say. The amazing part was he didn’t turn on his teammates during the rest of the Dungeoneering expedition.
The other aspect is the artificial creature that we had used to give him the Lycan condition was dead. It didn’t exist at the time of Recursion. Perez was first and last.
Ergo, we had the proverbial sleeping whirlwind waiting to thank us for the nap we had forced him into.
Moonlight wasn’t spilling directly into the Prefect’s office. If ever there was a time for gambits…
Sighing, I dug into the Triage Kit and rooted around for something, anything, that might be able to turn into a pouch. Scooting away from the Apex Lycan, Progenitor, forcibly sleeping in front of me, I popped open the tin of silver dust. More than a few pinches found their way into a bit of gauze I folded together and pinched long enough to suture into a packing of sorts. Maybe if it was layered behind a bandage, the dust would be just close enough in proximity to have some kind of effect. Prevailing wisdom about We-w-er-wer-Therianthropes – what a curious label – and their argent allergy should help. Somehow. Maybe just give him a rash when he woke up, annoyed for a second before tearing us to bits.
This was probably a longshot, but, well, what had not been today?
+Would you like to cancel Triage?+
There was a faint sizzling noise. The scent of the herb burning away as the sixth member of our Fireteam coughed, eyes fluttering. He rolled onto his side, spitting and hacking and coughing.
I sent an invitation to Perez to join Reclamation.
“No one panic, I have this under control,” I whispered to no one in particular. Shoving my hand into the Kit once more, I thought about making some more wolfsbane. Rooted around. Searched even more. “Oh, stars below.”
It appeared I didn’t have any. Neither did I find more in the chem lab. Not many Lycans were allowed to roam the World to begin with, no reason to stock it.
“Goddamn, Jeri-, HYURRK, -cho, would it kill you,” Perez wheezed between dry-heaving, flopping onto his belly and trying to push himself up onto his knees, “to mix the meds with-, HLRRK, -something for the taste?!”
An angry scowl was plastered across the Otherworlder’s face. Scrunched eyebrows framed a pair of bright orbs, one ocean blue and the other light emerald. The heterochromia was a byproduct of when he was turned – which he wanted to keep despite the magical means to alter minor cosmetics like that. Messy brown hair that still had bits of wall and rock from earlier’s firefight shook all about as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Oh good, you remember,” I smirked. “Here, catch.”
“Of course I would, do you know how bad that tasted? Tastes?!” Perez fumed, easily snatching the catnip bag equivalent for a Lycan. He shook it at me menacingly, getting tiny shiny bits of metal all over himself. “Even worse than that stir fry Lyi-, OW, WHAT THE FUCK?! THAT ITCHES!”
“On a scale of one to ten, ten being feeling like you are going to die, what are you feeling right now?” I queried innocently. Elbow went to knee, chin resting in palm.
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“Three! It’s going to go to zero when I break my boot off in your ass, Amon!” Perez hissed through grated teeth, dropping the wolf-nip bag. “What’s this shit about Reclamation and Factions?”
“Oh, Jericho is just putting his hat into the ring, as I believe the saying goes, for world domination,” Cordo chuckled, sparing a glance over at the Lycan.
“Yes, he definitely is,” Lyissa nodded solemnly. “He assured me himself, starting with all the Dragon girls.”
“Eh?”
“WHAT?!”
THUMP!
“Hey, I win!”
I found myself hauled to my feet and then suspended in midair with hardly a breath, shaken back and forth by an irate Draco.
“THIS IS A TRAVESTY! MY OWN PARTNER!” Ana roared, throttling me back and forth as I struggled to kick my legs and hold on for dear life. “HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD THESE DESIGNS?!”
“A-a-an-ana-, s-st-sto-oo-!”
“No rematches, right?” Maekita inquired innocently, hand reaching over to the Winterfield.
“I-, I-, I-! Hey!” the Draco exclaimed, exchanging her grip for one hand on my collar while the other pointed at the Oni. “Hands off, there was interference from the audience!”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” A mischievous grin split the wide mouth of one Maekita. Her fingers grasped the stock. Amazingly, the weapon seemed to grow in size to accommodate her grip. “Oh, look, it was meant to be!”
I mouthed some choice phrases at Lyissa, who shrugged noncommittally, before I spun end over end across the room. I detected a hint of what some might call ‘residual saltiness’ from our earlier discussion. Something cushioned my fall. Someone, rather, and both of us growled. One a little more distinctly.
“Hands off, you grape-colored vagabond!”
“Bring it, overgrown lizard.”
“Oh, the originality, let go of the weapon and we shall settle this as fighters!”
In truth, I was worried when I was yet again manhandled, sent skidding across the floor. This time I ended up right next to the female Terran prisoner. She had a bemused expression, sneering behind the bandage gag.
+Member added to Faction: Reclamation – Perez Karish, Level 5 ?Human? Specialist.+
A single hand more or less grabbed me by the nape of the neck and stood me upright.
“OKAY! Okay, okay, so we’re a Fireteam inside of whatever your Reclama-thingamajig is, great, really great,” Perez recounted, patting me down. Flecks of this and that – mainly silver – made their way to the floor. “Mainly because, ah, well, it looks like the System is shot all to hell and I don’t have my thingy that lets me see my Stats and shit. And, oooooh, yeah, I am definitely still a We-Wrrr-woof, a Lycan, baby! Tonight’s a fucking moonlit night, isn’t it?!”
“Ah, Perez, yes, before you start getting too excited,” I cautioned, aiding in the dusting off, “do you feel alright? Anything out of sorts more than normal?”
“No, no man, I feel finer than fine, I really, RREEAALLLYY,” he replied, though the last word was much deeper in tone than the man regularly used, “need to burn off this energy or else I might explode. Who’s the broad? And the guy without a face and Stumpy?”
“Terrans. Narcs. They helped kill everyone earlier.”
His smile faltered. What could have been exuberance for life and all it offered darkened, exchanged for standing tall, rigid. Licking his chops, that hunger for excitement shifted as his jade eye darkened, crystal-clear ocean turning murky.
“They… they helped? Ahah, and you still have ‘em here?” he chuckled, stifling his energetic breaths. No, they were getting deeper. “Wh-why are they still here? I hope they’re not for m-, please tell they’re for me. No, wait, don’t. Maybe. Errrrh, I can’t decide, hard to resist…”
Perez cleared his throat. The female Narc whimpered, trying to not make a sound as the Apex Lycan looked at her with something I missed. I wasn’t his target, his potential prey. That being said, I was within arm’s reach and anything could happen with a young Lycan in any World.
“Seeker Karish,” Lyissa quietly announced herself. “These were enemies sent specifically into the Administratum. We still need them for questioning. If-…”
I shared a look with her. Glanced at my gun. Back up to me. We begrudgingly nodded together.
“If you perhaps want to run wild, we might be able to arrange that tonight,” the Elf offered, standing in front of the doorway.
“Just have to run a test or three. You know what Firearms are, correct?” I filled in, putting my hand on Perez’s shoulder to ease him away from the frightened woman. Didn’t blame her, she was sharing the room with the purest expression of vengeance towards her kind and all she stood for. “Bullets, cartridges, Elemental shot?”
“Yes, yes, yeah, annoying, pesky, only if they’re magic or silver, yeah,” he bristled, eyes started wavering between wolf and man, ears lengthening. Ticking bomb, as they said, on a hair trigger. “Stings a little, never minded much, what about them?”
“To be safe, I want to shoot you with one of the regular rounds their main guns use.”
Perez cocked his head at me.
Then laughed.
Cackled.
“That’s it? All that’s it, between me and a hurrr-hurrr-nnn, hunt?!” Perez responded. Teeth were lengthening into proper fangs, his uniform started to swell and protest at the seams. “Hah, go ahead, go ahead!”
Ignoring the nervousness in the air I could cut with a knife, I unholstered my Lamia handcannon. It did comparably less damage than what the Winterfield bolt action inflicted, making it perfect for a magic weapon. Second was scavenging for a Bolt pistol and regular Winterfield ammo.
“Normal and then magic, here we go,” I muttered.
“Jericho, w-!” Lyissa screamed, second thoughts.
The muffled Bolt sent a round directly into Perez’s belly. Cheap metal, unenchanted, using its odd property of accepting any ammo as a control variable as to if that made its attack type magical for purposes of overcoming resistances.
Flattened round clinked to the floor. The Apex Lycan grinned, shaking his head.
“Where, if this hurts?” Cocking the hammer on my handcannon, I kept the barrel up.
“Flesh wound. Side,” Perez growled. If it didn’t kill him, it only served to make him annoyed. The Wolf was coming out. “You’ll still fix me up Doc, right?”
“Doc?” I frowned.
“Yeeeeah, Doc always stitches people up after a good scrrrap!” Perez happily informed. “Easier than shouting ‘Jeri, Jeri, Jericho!’ when someone’s lost their foot, hah!”
Ana stifled a giggle. Of course she would. It was as short as her name, even a single syllable.
“Of c-,” I smiled, then felt my fingers whirl around and squeeze the trigger.
The round went through, making a new hole in the wall. At least it didn’t stay in him.
A throaty chuckle turned into a seething baritone rasp. Pain, threat to life and limb was one of the triggers for transformation. He was helping us learn as much as we were enabling him to go out and be an agent of death while we cowered in our own city, inside this safe tower, not willing to risk what little ground we’d obtained.
Falling to all fours, Perez the former Otherworlder stretched out in a silent howl. His uniform exploded save for most of his pants, metal plates clattering to the floor. Tanned skin broke out in deep russet fur, imperfect for a nighttime hunt, a long lupine tail jutting out from the base of the spine. Jaws elongated, face shaped into a snout, as he hunched over for a moment, standing tall well over my own height. I had to look up, meeting his hungry gaze that appeared restrained.
It looked like he had gone into the hybrid shape. Probably for the best.
Wickedly curved talons extended towards me. My gaze locked with Perez’s. Toothy grin and all, he closed the fist. Sighing, a faint smirk, I bumped it with my own. Apex, Progenitor, Company, Faction, seemed to be tying together rather nicely. Not that I wanted to be close to him when Bloodlust, whatever the hell that was, occurred. In hindsight, perhaps I should have looked that up too.
“Looks like it is a clean shot, already starting to Regen,” I noted, looking over his side and going behind. “Arcanotech can harm you with regular ammo. Don’t take risks.”
He leaned past me, taking lazy meandering steps to loom over the prisoners.
The Lycan wrapped his hand around the collar of the only Narc awake, quickly lifting her in the air. Bringing her close to his slavering maw. Frail Terran eyes forced close to his bloodthirsty gaze.
“Rrrrhn, are you surrrre I can’t start with one?” he grumbled, turning her back and forth effortlessly.
I felt, for a moment, a shred of empathy. She risked pleading with her eyes, shivering, shaking, looking between all of us. Lingering on me. Why? Well, I had seemed to make all the important decisions. Then again, who was I to deny him.
“No, sadly, they are destined for other fates,” Cordo dispassionately interjected. I almost didn’t want him to. “As said before, they know something as pertains to the Administratum. That being said, I would urge you to not take unnecessary risks. For instance, we haven’t investigated the consequences of falling far distances in this new System.”
“Mhnnn, could solve that. What d’ya say, lovely?” Perez chuckled, looking out to the atrium. “Want to try flying, for science?”
She squealed, shaking vigorously.
Her gag managed to slip down enough.
“200! There’s 200!” she hoarsely screeched, eyes scrunched together. “200 of us came here, most probably here, just-, just-, PLEASE I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”
“HAH! WELL! Good way to start proving it!” Perez hooted and hollered, licking his chops as he dropped her into a heap. “They all smell the same. Wood. Metal. Hide. Like a real army. It’s going to be, heh, fun, fun, fun!”
“Be back well before the moon falls!” Lyissa commanded.
“No survivors, no bites.”
As Perez bounded around the corner with an elated howl, heavy footsteps echoing from the stairs, everyone looked at me in dismay. Horror. Awe?
“Please trust me on this,” I whispered, eyes closed as I holstered my weapon. I withdrew the SysTablet, still open on its Progenitor entry. Someone snatched it and began reading for themselves. “You have no idea how close to the edge that was.”
With everyone distracted, I slowly made my way over to the Terran woman. She was out of her mind with terror and I wouldn’t blame her. It was a Passive Feature only higher level Lycans had, a Fear Aura of sorts that whittled away at the mind. I wonder if it hit a Suppression-style Threshold in our new World.
Undoing the headwrap of the second male Terran, the swelling had gone down considerably. His face was still closer to ground beef than presentable.
“Diagnose.”
+Diagnose activated. Target is Kyle Harrison, level 19 Human Support. Critically Injured, requires Feature: Combat Medic or Strategic Point to Revive. Warning! Your Combat Medic Level is too low!+
“Damn,” I swore, opting to change the dressing despite his condition. At least Critically was one step below Fatally. If they were the only two stages before outright Death, I would be happy with that. “And what about you, are you still alive?”
Walking to the Captain, his tied-off arm stump had an off-putting color and odor to it.
That was new.
“Diagnose. Wait, what in the hells?”
“What is it Jericho?” Maekita asked, peeling away from everyone else rifling through the SysTablet again. “Is there someth-, God, what the fuck is that smell?”
+Diagnose activated. Target is Arthur Ulmetae, level 22 Human Assault Marksman. Status: Maimed, Festering Wound.+
“I’m guessing this is what happens now if you aren’t treated by a proper Medic or item,” I gingerly commented, looking at Mae. Gesturing for her to keep him down, I prepped to apply First Aid. “We are not your favorite beings right now, but I can’t just let you suffer with this.”
“St-, still, nhg, still a Race traitor,” the now-named Arthur gurgled. Had he been immobilized or something by this?
“By the way, this is Maekita. Maekita, this is the man who shot you,” I waved it off, looking for Mae’s reaction.
Her fingers tightened where they held him down. No other response.
“There. Why don’t you try telling him about this made-up place called Japan, okay? I’ll be right over there,” I tiredly advised, coming to the last patient.
I’m not sure if it was my nature or something instilled in me that encouraged me to take care of my enemy’s wounded. Being called ‘Doc’ made something resonate, but that didn’t get rid of my desire to strangle every Narc I could. Into submission. If I could get away with not killing them.
No, wait.
What?
Shrugging off the intrusive thought, I sat the Terran woman up against the wall. She’d regained most of her faculties it seemed like. Cowed slightly. This was a person who would do anything to survive. Sold out 200 of her own – at least, 200 people that happened to wear the same uniform as her. The same harlot who begged for mercy with her voice while her other hand went for a Bolter earlier.
“Well, looks like your pearly whites are back. That’s good for you,” I smiled without warmth, showing only teeth. “You have until my friend comes back to convince me you’re worth more alive.”
“What do you want to know?” she immediately replied, hazel eyes searching out my scarlet ones for any edge she could get.
“Who are you?”
“Tanya Jikaren. I’m from Mars.”
“Come again?” Maekita and Lyissa blurted out.