I hunkered down, drawing my handcannon. Lyissa joined me, crouching while conjuring an Aegis. The continuous barrage also ceased in response to whatever had uttered such thunderous reply, rattling glass windows and wood slats ever so softly.
There shouldn’t be any monster able to do such a thing within city limits. Not this quickly, even with the Administratum being inactive and now with its conversion to the Rook.
“Well?” Lyissa whispered, eyes flicking between me and the half-shifted Jake. “Are you going to help him get into the fight too?”
“But who was-?”
She blinked.
“There’s a monster in the city we just called out to and-“
Then it hit me. Quietly, I opened the Triage Kit and began applying First Aid to Jake, Reclamation recruit.
“No biting. Yes?” I warned, wagging my finger. The newborn Lycan nodded vigorously. Using Diagnose revealed a couple other wounds he was sitting on, namely a mangled leg ensuring he wouldn’t get far. “Go to your Alpha.”
I had hardly slapped him on the back with one last bandage before the former Terran tore off, alternating between two and four legs. Skidding to a stop at one corner, sniffing, then sprinting in what I assumed was a parallel approach to the Narc Fireteams.
“There’s some significance to what we just said in ‘howl’ that escapes me,” I stated flatly.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.” Releasing the cylinder, I counted out the six steel-tipped rounds. Plenty of those left. Upending the Lamia – stars, that’s a strange phrase, the System must be punishing handcannon users – the cartridges slid into my hand, deposited into the normal ammo pouch sitting on my belt. “We have a minute, maybe two to plan. Ana is stuck out there, still breathing, they don’t know how many allies she has. Perez is out doing Perez things, with Jake the Level 1 Lycan joining him.”
“An accurate summary. Here we sit at Level 9 in our Fireteam, missing the last two members,” Lyissa added, releasing the Aegis. Must be a channeled Mana drain. “Hopefully they heard his howl back to us.”
“Even then, they have upwards to 20 bodies. Even if we rallied some civilians, I don’t think they could muster the courage to risk putting themselves in a Lycan hunting ground,” I grimaced, scooping around my Rune-engraved ammunition. Blast, Blast, Blast, Freeze, Blast, Freeze – stars below, this was my typical Damage split of the two Elemental types. One for area of effect, the other for a limited ability to disable targets. “Especially with the question of Death being in the air. No one will take what we say at face value.”
“Only a smaller degree more challenging than inside the Rook,” she nodded, holding her hands open in front of her. Concentrating. “We have a little more at our disposal as well as a sixth and seventh member, Reclamation.”
“Plus, they are still relying on their guns.” I inserted the four Freeze magnums I could find. The last eight I had were Blast, of which two went into the current cylinder. Snapping the revolver back together, I made sure the opening round was a Blast. “Did you happen to get anything fancy?”
“Well, I learned I am providing Firebase Aura. It improves offensive rating,” Lyissa nodded, focusing again. Power arced between her fingers. Electric. Light. “Level 8 gave me something called Elemental Burst. I’m trying to see if I can…”
I went blind for a moment as she squinted, bringing her hands together to snuff the Skill before it completely activated.
+Warning, friendly fire! You are Disoriented!+
“Whatever you did, I hope you mean to use it on them. Because,” I coughed, trying to shake off the condition making me see triple of everything, ringing ears, “I think it worked.”
“I apologize, but that was close to what I envisioned.” she smiled with a wince, preparing her hands once more. “Should be ready. You?”
+Status update! You are no longer Disoriented.+
“Friendly fire? Oh, well, yes. I’m going to force half of my Mana into a Blast,” I replied, letting my vision focus into one image. “On your lead.”
We shared a look, nodding.
Breathing in sync.
Closed my eyes, heard her boots scuff the pavement while her little lungs inhaled.
“EYES DOWN!”
Breathing out, listening to her slide out of cover.
“LIGHT BURST!”
A wonderful cacophony of outcries, curses, screams of pain as something stronger than sunlight exploded in the pitch-black overhead. Bright enough I could feel the warmth on my cheek, the inside of my eyelids burning slightly even as I took shelter against the wall. No condition inflicted, I stepped out with my Lamia drawn.
Hopped on top of a stall, took a bead on the group down the street. The three Fireteams had begun to split apart into separate files.
Operative word, begun.
“Rune Shot.”
My hands felt extraordinarily warm. New sensation. The barrel began glowing an uncomfortable yellow, the Runes etched to make it Arcanotech pulsating a bright array of colors. Aim a seething red, Durability soft emerald, licking the spine of the handcannon before wrapping around the chambered Blast magnum.
Center mass. Squeeze the trigger. Did I say half? I said half. Thought half. But the strike of opportunity…
My whole Mana bar disappeared, coalescing into one concentrated pinprick of power chambered within the handcannon’s assembly.
Swiveling in place, it was someone on the outskirts of the confused Arcanocracy mob. They had sighted me, ready to put me down.
I was faster.
+Reaction: Counterfire activated!+
Ca-clink.
The fireball enveloped a good portion of the enemy flank. My left, their right, where Perez might be hitting them from.
+Status updating! Sharing rewards with Fireteam, you have reached Level 10 Support. Prestige branch unlocked.+
Time seemed to stand still for a moment, my mind seared with pressing information. Three choices I had to make as I exhaled from the strain of pulling that tiny trigger. Like Danger Sense. Almost couldn’t use the hyperfocus. So much destruction compared to the miniscule effort of barely moving my finger. This was what it might feel to be high enough Level to flatten villages with a thought.
Addictive.
Imagine a nuclear bomb.
What did it really do?
Did I want to know if it really was as easy as she made it sound?
I breathed in sharply.
+Arcanotechnician: specializes in servicing equipment of a magical or MagiTek nature and the use of Arcanotech weaponry. Signature Skill, Overcharge: temporarily increases the effectiveness of a magical or MagiTek item at the expense of durability.+
+Fabricator: specializes in the creation of mundane equipment and items. Signature Skill, Reassemble: utilizes scrap components to create Common Tier items and ammunition. Organic and inorganic components are not interchangeable.+
+Surgeon: specializes in providing certain Medical Skills and Features normally reserved for Strategic Points. Signature Skill, Hospitalize: channels a stationary field that offers Stabilize to targets within area of effect while also increasing Passive Recovery speed.+
I breathed out, taking a knee. The Blast explosion was still rippling outwards, debris hurtling towards our position even here, rattling my bones. A blink, met Lyissa’s surprise and shock. Reflected in her eyes were the blaring red windows I was also seeing.
All of them seemed a logical choice.
One. I could only pick one.
Might not ever be able to look back.
Sucking in another draught of air, hitting the deck preemptively. Mana quickly recovering from the Level-up.
A single option let me lead from the front, making sure we could keep the momentum going, war of our time.
+Congratulations! Jericho Amontillado has been promoted to Level 10 Human Support Arcanotechnician.+
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Reality crashed back into focus as I caught myself from stumbling into the open. Hairs stood up on the back of my neck as I had the feeling my position was about to become the sole object of malevolent retribution in a few seconds. In Otherworlder terms, I believe I just drew all of the aggression with that solitary Rune Shot.
“Ahahah. Hahaha. HAH, HAHAHA, RAAAAUGH!”
Was that Ana cackling maniacally? Somewhere further ahead. Her rifle clattered noisily to the pavement, fabric on her uniform tearing and audible from... wherever she was.
“DRAGOON STANCE!”
Lyissa and I shared the same silent question.
The acrid scent of sulfur on the wind was the first answer. Next was the hiss and bubble, wood groaning, metal buckling as a stall collapsed inward on itself. A cloud of caustic miasma exploded outwards with a mighty flap of wings, more of it washing the area around its Mistress. Koliastrazana did not breathe the traditional molten flame that scorched flesh and sundered even stone. The substance wreathing her presence, spilling out across the avenue to partially obscure her silhouette must be an expression of it.
No, hers was perhaps a crime to use against sentient beings.
But now, in a post-Recursion era where survival was paramount?
“Oh, stars below, she’s going to charge in,” I postulated, shaking my head and pleading with the High Elf. “Something, are you able to-?”
“If there were a time for Signatures to be burned, so to speak, yes!”
Lyissa sprinted across the street, avoiding fire from the first few Terrans to recover from the initial curtain call. Their ostensible leader had regained faculties enough to badger them into some form of formation, I couldn’t make it out over the din or through the corrosive fog beginning to separate our side of the battlefield from theirs. There wasn’t a giant Draco in True Form, much to my disappointment, but I did see someone beginning to rise.
Tall. Taller than Ana had been. Should be.
Watching my other teammate focus inward, her hand swept around before closing in a fist. Holding it outwards as a shield, the other grasped a long spear of glossy air, refracting with the same ghost light a Will o’the Wisp tempted travelers to their doom.
Something told me she needed a distraction.
Rising just enough to see the Terrans, a few immediately opened fire. Shrapnel, bullets or splinters, whizzed by my head dangerously close. Opting to fire my handcannon sideways blindly, half of my Mana went into hastily whispered Rune Shots. The Freeze cartridges exploded with the sound and grace of a Minotaur in a porcelain shop, hopefully to the consternation of at least one person now hampered in magical ice.
“Volley.”
Throwing the Arcane javelin with grim precision, it sailed through the air with ethereal grace. Passing over the rooftops, it reflected otherworldly colors within itself before stopping abruptly, pointing downward over the intersection that the Terrans had assembled a barricade, a checkpoint. Most likely to start sweeping the city again tomorrow, today, a base. A holdover until their friends gave word that the Control Nexus had been subverted, the safety Resurrection promised.
The underwhelming whorl of hard air and pure Arcane force shattered into a dozen spikes.
Heavy thuds and small bursts of thunder echoed as one by one they fell to the surface, flushing the Narc troops out of what had been secure fortifications. Except from the sky.
+Status update! Fireteam member shared rewards, you have reached Level 11 Support Arcanotechnician.+
A majority escaped the death from above. Lyissa was barely suppressing a smirk as I stole a look at her, safe behind her own shield of shimmering force.
“CAVALCADE!” the silhouette within the fog bellowed, wings flaring outwards.
I still couldn’t make out exactly what Ana had activated with Dragoon Stance, if it was indeed her, but that did not detract from the agility it displayed with the Skill. They sprinted into the fray, one wing bent forward as a protective screen, barreling into the first Narc they saw.
Firelight from my Blast earlier made a shadowplay of the scene. As her hands grasped one enemy and threw them at another, she spun to slice across the face of the next with Dragonkin savagery. She loved throwing around her toys. Others caught in the miasma which followed close behind coughed and sputtered, perhaps inflicted with Conditions. Perhaps they were just trying to escape the madness.
Why weren’t they using Skills? Were they stupid? Fools? Didn’t know any better? There was one thing if knowledge was what they lacked. Something completely different if they were, I don’t know, locked out of their Class.
I froze.
The terrible thought.
A starving System.
The scream of a much more primal terror echoed up and down the avenue. It was followed by the vicious laughter of a being given over to barely corralled madness. A second joined in, playing off each other in unison.
It appeared the Lycans had joined the fray.
“Move up! The fog’s clear!” Lyissa yelled, advancing.
Thinking better of reloading, I took the opportunity to join my senior. A swathe of no man’s land – strange term to come to mind – was created by the lack of cover between our side and theirs, but it seemed the Terrans were occupied enough to let us cross unadulterated. Pulling up my uniform’s softer gambeson proved fruitless to ward away the strange mist’s residue in the air. Maybe we needed some form of mask to protect against it, better yet against other forms of airborne Conditions. Runetech inscribed on head slot equipment, something that might purify-
“For Heartfire, for Greenharbor,” I heard the distorted female voice of a familiar Draco call out, “for the Administrata and all the innocents killed BECAUSE OF YOU!”
Someone screamed as they flew through the air, clattering against the top floor wall of an apartment before hitting the ground. Moved for a few moments before passing out.
The strange vibrating thrum of Lyissa’s darts joined the fray, suppressing a pair of Terrans that had gone unnoticed long enough to train their Grandeur rifles on Ana and what I assumed was Perez or Jake. I couldn’t see between the darkness, fading fire from things caught in the Blast, and the blasted fog. Maybe the masks could get darkvision enchantments as well, an all-in-one functioning-
Clear ring of sword leaving sheathe. A violent hum pierced my ears. Distinctive.
Active.
Scrambling around the barricade, I was treated to the sight of a massive russet Apex Lycan, gore spattered, with slavering maw facing off against a decorated Arcanocracy officer of some sort. The one issuing orders. Ranged weapon discarded, broken in half, he mutely challenged Perez with a duelist’s poise.
The blade was inscribed with five Runes. Durable. Velocity. Impact. Guard. V-
No.
That… That wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be crafted. Couldn’t be ripped out of a rewarded item and enchantment applied elsewhere.
It shouldn’t exist. That Rune shouldn’t be producible!
“VORPAL, VORPAL!” I screamed with reckless abandon, bringing my Lamia to bear. No mana to help in any meaningful way.
Squeezing off three rounds, I was confused after the first was deflected so easily. Elemental shot bounced to the side, ready to intercept others with the Guard Rune flashing purple, rapidly dimming. Second and third were roaring silence as hammer struck spent magnums.
No, no, no! I didn’t-!
Hastily emptying the cylinder, I tried backpedaling towards something, anything, as the Terran chuckled and began charging.
“Blitz.”
I blinked.
He was on me.
My gun was empty.
Overhead chop. The only thing I had was the Lamia.
The faintest sliver of Danger Sense gave me the heartbeat to catch the blade, praying that my own Durable would last just long enough.
“JERICHO!” a woman screamed. Two? It was hard to tell. Blood pumped in my ears.
The Vorpal sword bit into my faithful handcannon, stopped halfway by the barrel as the blue Durable Rune exploded into a blue corona. I turned edgewise with the strike and shoulder-checked the Terran away, used the space to draw my knife.
“Cleave!” the Terran ordered.
His blade struck true.
It didn’t hurt. I couldn’t move, but it was so clean a blow that I believe the nerves that might respond with delicious fire and sensations of exorbitant pain did not know they had been severed yet.
Out of the corner of my eye, ears ringing, I saw a tree. No, a mess of twigs, sticks, leaf litter, cracking, struggling to not give ground to the sword currently embedded in my shoulder. I imagine the Aegis might’ve been said so far away I couldn’t hear. Staving off the inevitable. A proper hit, especially a critical, meant something below your Level would usually instantly die. People killed in such a way…
Well, the Debt ended up being rather costly. Then there was the other thing.
Why the things were banned save for Dungeoneering. Places expressly for killing things that didn’t remember dying.
I could see the disgust and revulsion on the Terran’s face as I gave him a dumb smile. He might not be able to take me with him after all.
His face disappeared underneath the shadow of wings. Was that leather? Fur? Scale? One of the three. No, wait, thick furry limbs grasped the Terran’s arms. A black-scaled hand wrapped around his face from behind, only showing a shocked eyeball, as something metallic flashed between us. Soon the Terran was being hauled away while his arms still held the Vorpal edge embedded in my body.
The Aegis continued to crack, crick, clack. Snicker-snack, the blade would continue ‘til I cracked open. Even if the wielder was disarmed. Haha. Dis-armed. I smiled. Everything below my neck felt odd. Couldn’t feel my arm. My waist felt like it was asleep, which was odd, since it was usually a foot or a hand that did that. I don’t think I had those anymore.
+Warning! You are Fatally Injured!+
I dismissed the annoying red window that crowded my vision with a scowl. Maybe this was going to be the last time I had to see the System.
“I wish it was flying,” I mumbled. So tired.
“No, no, no, Jeri, hey, no, don’t fall asleep!” a much shorter Draco pleaded. It couldn’t be Ana, she didn’t have her wings. At least, they weren’t big enough for us to go flying as they fluttered between folded and not. Smelled horrible. “D-do-don’t die, he-hey, there’s a way out of this. You know a way! Right? Right?!”
My head turned left and right as deceptively soft fingers ran over my lips, tapping my cheek and nose, getting me to focus.
There was something. Maybe. Maybe?
“Su-, Supp-“
“Support? Yes? Like what you did with Maekita?” she urged, looking around. “Jake? JAKE! GET OVER HERE!”
A big puppy whined. Felt more than heard. Very young puppy. Stars, I just wanted to sleep. The grating noise of that Aegis thing about to break was so annoying. Young pup, used to be a Terran, now he was sable-maned.
“Triage. Med-Medic. Me-?” I tried to muster, eyes unfocused.
“Can’t. Can’t, can’t, caaaahn’t,” the Lycan cub shook his head, tears flowing. “Too low!”
Ah, right. Combat Medic. Level 4. Not in Fireteam. No Levels shared.
I sighed, slumping, just as four strong, powerful hands braced me.
Ice. That cool burn of mountain glacial pools before running into hot springs.
+Warning! You are Fatally Injured! Seek immediate Medical attention!+
Or was it sunlight? Night had been so long.
“Rend.”
+Status update! Fireteam member shared rewards, you have reached Level 13 Support Arcanotechnician.+
Oh dear. That was a bad number. Mom and Dad always argued if numbers were inherently bad. That was one they agreed to steer clear of.
+Warning! You are Fatally Injured! Seek immediate Medical attention! You are about to die!+
“It didn’t help, he’s not getting back up. The System changed!” Lyissa cried. Actually cried. Didn’t know she had tear ducts behind that perfect face. “All we can hope for is him to bleed out before the sword finishes him. Damn it, damn it all to hell!”
My hand reached out. Shaky. Guided it with my bleary eyes more than actually feeling. I saw it touch something black, couldn’t feel the texture, hoped they were obsidian. Glossy, beautiful obsidian. Their hand went over mine.
It wasn’t going to hold.
“Dr-drinks are on me.”
Cra-crr-cnn-crnnch, snikt!
+You have died!+
///
Could count on one hand. Such a long time since the last. Felt like falling.
Sinking?
Small mercy, I couldn’t feel what I saw. A huge gash that started at my shoulder and stopped just below my heart, little sanguine rivulets floating upwards in the medium. So, sinking. Falling.
Orange threads passed by. Little purple fish. Odd. Did I finally escape the System, just when I finally had all the reasons not to?
More strands passed by. I vaguely felt something cushion me, sensation of being moved. Frozen, all I could do as I watched my lifeblood trail behind, the most insignificant trail to follow me by. Hope no one else was behind me though. One idiot was a good enough trade for a whole platoon – there was one of those odd words again – of Narcs.
+As my mother would say, you look like shit.+
More of those orange and violet shapes, symbols wove between the gaping wound and began to cauterize the injury, stitching what was left of me back together.
I blacked out with a wordless scream as the delayed agony set my soul ablaze.