+Status update! Electromagical Flux debuff has expired.+
“We need to move. Gather everyone we can, find equipment, drive the enemy out,” I hastily suggested. Not an order. Who was I to lead? I shared the race of the people most likely bearing sole responsibility for the tragedy developing around us. “I’m not sure if anyone else felt it, but the Administratum is dead.”
Three pairs of eyes trained on me. Fourth was having a blissful drug-induced nap. The fifth was still sobbing, leaning against Maekita’s considerable bulk for some small degree of comfort.
“I still have some of that Proficiency with stuff like that, alright? I don’t know how, why, what this Recursion thing or the Narc’s plans were-, I swear I had nothing to do wi-“
“Jericho, calm down,” Lyissa said, coming over to grasp my face in her hands. Fingers went over my cheeks, wiping away moisture. Had I been crying as well? “We know you didn’t. You are our comrade and my friend. You wouldn’t have tried saving others if you were with them. Yes?”
My breathing slowed down. Her soothing voice helped ground me. She made sense, it was logical. Now was not the time to panic or fear a knife in the back because I happened to look like the enemy.
“Now, Cordo, you said your weapon was not working?” the High Elf continued, going over to inspect us one-by-one. That was the protective side of her, just like her affinity for that kind of magic.
“Just like I hadn’t attuned to it. That’s something I distinctly remember being an annoying safety feature,” Cordo replied, trying once more. The rapier refused to budge. “I do not recall any requirements aside from that in order to use the blasted blade.”
“Can I try?” Maekita asked, hesitantly extending her large hand towards him.
Cordo nodded, offering it hilt-first to the Oni girl. The two played battle-of-the-heave for a few seconds, fighting for ownership, before she managed to nearly yank him into her.
“Goddammit! Well, that really sucks. You said it took an attunement? How long did that take?” Maekita said.
“An hour, two. You don’t suppose that the bond has somehow been broken?”
“Maybe. I remember there was some kind of attack the System kept yammering about between the stuffy old fucker talking about his utopia progress-shmogress.”
“Strategic-grade,” I added while looking down at my own weapons. Knife on one thigh, revolver in its holster over the other. “Whatever it was, I believe everyone was Incap’d when it went off. I just had a debuff end called Elec-“
“Electromagical Flux,” everyone conscious finished for me.
“Why does that sound so familiar?” Maekita trailed off, scratching underneath one of her impressive horns. “Electro, Magical, Flux… EMF…?”
I drew my trusty Firearm. Six barrels, runes looked intact, all six magnum cartridges with steel tips properly slotted in. Pressing the release on the cylinder, I emptied the rounds into my hand to inspect the item.
“Anyone else still have an Appraise or Survey?” I asked aloud. I didn’t take anything related to it until I was around 30, when I became an Administratum Seeker.
“Let me try. What are you thinking?” Lyissa said, making her way over to me. Cordo moved to take her place as lookout.
“What if items have also changed? The enemy said something about progress being slow, unable to adapt. We’ve always had issues with new items that were assembled by using countless other items,” I theorized, handing over one of the brass-tinged cartridges. Stifling a shudder, I slapped the empty cylinder back into place. “Cartridges for Firearms were always four, five different things. New irons were dozens of separate parts that somehow worked together.”
A High Elf like Lyissa had to still have some natural Feature that’d help us. Their kind was always praised for craftsmanship and spellweaving. Practically in their blood, right?
“Steel tier magnum bullet,” she reported. Brow furrowed, she touched my Firearm. “Arcanotech handcannon, requires magnum ammunition.”
“Shouldn’t that be MagiTek? Tek?” Maekita asked, rubbing Ana’s back to soothe her. The Dragoness had stilled. “Wait, is that one of the old or the new kinds of revolvers?”
“Revolvers?” I blinked, cocking my head.
“Oh, that’s right, sorry. That’s what those types of pistols are called back where I’m from. Six-shooters, revolvers, the thing that movie Cowboys used,” the Oni-but-formerly-Human stated matter-of-factly. “Y’know, the ‘You feeling lucky, punk?’ Or the ‘Did I shoot five times or six?’ Ooh, or Russian Roule-!“
Something must have passed over our faces. The almost happy smile Maekita slipped into just as quickly disappeared.
“S-sorry, um, not relevant. But sometimes in stories and games they’re referred to as handcannons too,” she finished, downcast.
“Do not worry, young Maekita,” Cordo said quietly. “We-, I know that you’re trying to help. Your insight is invaluable. So too might Perez’s be, if he were awake.”
“I’m not sure we can take that chance yet. Not unless he’s cured of the Were-curse or the wonderfully improbable way we find some way to control it,” I chuckled darkly. The Triage Kit hung loosely over my shoulder. “We’re fortunate he is asleep, even if that means one of six of us is dead weight.”
A fist hit the concrete wall. Its owner let out a frustrated gasp of pain, then struck again and again.
“Hey, hey, hey! Kolia, wait!” Maekita urged, trying to restrain the Dragoness. The two women seemed evenly matched until the Oni stood and pulled the Draco up with her. “No one’s calling you that, it’s just a saying, it’s not you!”
Damned Dragonkin and their eccentric values.
“No! I refuse! I must redeem this in blood, I am going to charge and meet the enemy head on!” Koliastrazana raged, kicking her feet in midair like a small child’s tantrum. “All of this is wrong, wrong, WRONG! I was born a Draco, consumed my first meal a Draco, gained my first Level from the System ripping my prey apart in the sky as a Draco, this CANNOT BE! LET ME GO!”
What was almost comedic relief quickly shifted to potential tragedy. All of us jumped into action as Koliastra’s claws lengthened and scored Maekita’s forearms. The Oni let out a venomous bellow, tightening her grip as the struggle drew blood. The other two tried talking her down, narrowly avoiding being struck by a whirling dervish themselves, not sensing an opening to intervene.
Wait. No. We were-
“ANA! STOP!” I yelled, tripping over Perez as I leapt to stop her. “LOOK AT MAE’S STATUS. LOOK!”
Like clockwork my partner paused to focus her ire on me. Then looked over Maekita’s head, gasping sharply.
Koliastrazana, Level 1 Draco Assault, had nearly clawed away three-quarters of her companion’s Health.
“Oh. Wow. Ow, didn’t realize how much I hurt,” Maekita hissed, letting go and sinking to her knees. Her charge’s shoulders went limp as she joined the violet Oni. “Still a better thing than, y’know, letting you throw your life away.”
I approached the two, wordless. All I could think about was not wanting to lose anything, anyone else.
“First Aid.”
The Skill came unbidden from my mouth. Fingers rooted through the Triage Kit, full of ingredients and supplies just as it was before the Reset. Eventually healing herbs and bandages found their way into my hands, mixed together with what must have been my magic. Corresponding blue bar of Mana was reduced as I finished dressing the multitude of deep gashes and spot-treating other wounds on Maekita. Thankfully she was slowly recovering Health once I’d finished.
“You still have access to what I would have to guess are Natural Weapons,” I coldly observed, directing my gaze at the Dragoness. She flinched before I met Mae’s gaze. “And you must have some Physical resistance. I would have to assume, since Lyissa is able to access her Elven background, a few of our Features still exist.”
Quiet assent in the form of nods and hums followed.
“We have a magic blade that might as well be a club, my… Arcanotech gun, my knife, Koliastra’s claws, and nothing else. We need to arm ourselves. We need to rally some kind of resistance,” I continued, eyes closed and rubbing my temples. “But, we also don’t know what we are and what we can do. The Narcs apparently do. Well, then again they just have guns, and that wagon-mounted monstrosity facing the Administratum entrance.”
“Machinegun.”
We all turned to Maekita once more. There was a distant element to her stare as she focused on something on the floor.
“It’s called a machinegun. And if the System isn’t correcting me, that’s what it is. It… well, all I can really say is be glad it’s not like the ones from my time, the one before I found myself here,” she whispered. “Fuck whoever made a working model to life in this place. He has to be from my Earth. Or has help from someone from there.”
“A thought. If your Arcanotech thing is now a complete weapon,” Cordo interjected, looking down the hall toward where it eventually opened to the atrium, “it’s not too much of a leap to assume other creations have likewise undergone this transformation?”
“I guess. There wouldn’t be much use tracking down every little weapon or tool for that matter. The largest ones are for construction or buildings, industry,” I shook my head.
“We don’t need large. Typical man, going for the big tool to solve your problems,” Lyissa attempted to playfully chide. “I dropped my tablet outside.”
That was it.
“And if it was changed, they might be even more useful than before!” I exclaimed, pulling the surprised Elf in for a hug. “You’re a genius.”
“Uhm, folks, hate to rain on the parade,” Maekita said in a loud whisper. “Outside went quiet.”
We shared a look.
Mae picked up Perez’s limp form and we advanced further into the Administratum, quickly, quietly.
This time with a plan and a little hope.
///
Aside from the odd footsteps echoing from the above levels, six in all with a seventh reserved for the Prefect’s office, the atrium was silent. Maybe other survivors had decided to keep going or even exiting out the other side of the Administratum to take chances where the… machinegun was not. There was hollow comfort in knowing the capability of one’s enemy, barely softened by the fact that someone I worked with was the source of the information.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Lyissa, with me. You three, get to the second level. There might be basic weapons in storage next to the alch-, alchemi-, chemistry lab,” I suggested, hopping over the registration desk. “Stars below and Reaper’s shroud, I will never get used to words being forced on me!”
My Elf comrade nodded grimly, searching for a tablet or scroll that achieved the same functions. They were originally going to be a means of identification as well as easier to record and manage someone’s Levels, Class, plan out their progression. Basic functions like writing or perhaps even perform rudimentary Sending spells to communicate across vast distances.
Progress.
Too slow for the Terran Arcanocracy.
“I found something! Ahah, a Scroll!” she exclaimed, rolling over the desk she took to rifle through the contents. “Hells take them, something is wrong.”
Joining her, the problem was self-evident. I could feel the enchanted vellum by hovering over it, yet the runes and letters were barren of magical glow. That, or they were being blocked by…
As soon as I touched it, a painful jolt made me recoil. My hand went numb, feeling gradually returning in the form of pins and needles ravaging the nerves.
+Alert! Your Arcanotechnician Level is too low to repair this Epic tier item!+
Arcanotech. An Arcanotechnician to service Arcanotech. Looking down at my handcannon, back at the Scroll, gears turned within my empty head.
“It’s broken. However, the System told me there’s a Class that can. Maybe a branch of Support?” I said to Lyissa.
“I detect nothing. I wouldn’t know except from prior experience with these things what they did, how they should operate,” she relayed in turn, rolling the useless paper in on itself. Thankfully there was enough power within it to compress into a tiny version, finding its way into Lyissa’s pocket. “Maybe we will have more luck with a tablet.”
Heavy bootfalls and rattling plate armor echoed from the main entrance. The Terrans, making their way into the defenseless Administratum.
“Go, go!” I hissed, crouching low and half-sprinting for a nearby staircase. My companion followed suit. I highly doubted either of us possessed a Stealth ability of some sort.
If the Reset had affected the entire World, it wouldn’t be too much of a leap to assume everyone was Level 1 now. However, the flawless execution of the act, introduction of that strange missile, the ruthless slaughter of innocents after designating the entire fucking city as a Warzone, stood to reason that our enemy positioned themselves to capitalize on the element of surprise. There must be dozens, hundreds of Greenharbors across the continent, maybe even the globe! That meant the average Level of the entire Terran Arcanocracy nation-state was higher than the rest of the World.
They had to be the sole perpetrators. No one else could agree to such blasphemy, such wanton carnage.
The gear they had must not have any type of requirements. Or maybe the Proficiencies were remade to make them universal. If anyone could pick up one of the new Firearms, let alone an Arcanotech model, the theoretical playing field was flattened.
And yet they still made this effort to quickly cut down the hapless citizens. Levels still held some value, probably to fuel Class restricted abilities.
So many questions, so many issues, so many factors working against us!
Our feet carried us to the opposite side of the chem lab. Cordo was kneeling just inside the doorway, waving to hurry up. He had a quarrel of bolts hooked to his belt while a crossbow hung over his shoulder.
Pausing, I had to.
I couldn’t resist, despite the precarious cliff we found our chances of survival teetering on.
Peeking below, just above the solid balustrade that covered our movement, I prayed that I could go unnoticed.
Seven, eight, no, ten Narcs. Most of them looked clean. One bore what I imagine was an officer’s rank and insignia, two had something less intricate, while the rest were plain. Almost nothing to distinguish them from a distance. They were talking with hand gestures, following the leader’s direction. The lowest Level was 10, while the Captain was – for lack of better term – highest as a 22 Assault, Marksman. I wondered if experience had been gained as a group or each individual was responsible for carving out their own bloody seat in the hierarchy.
Wait, they had a subclass. When did they get it? 20? 15? Some other arbitrary number?
I nearly took another look as Lyissa wrenched me down, severe glare plastered over her sylvan beauty. It was the first time I’d seen something akin to unabashed anger. Deserved it, I might have risked everything.
“No, please, wait, no-!”
A gunshot made us both flinch.
The Narcs weren’t stopping to ask questions.
Sharing the grim realization, we scampered to the relative safety Cordo and the others had found.
///
There were two entries to the storage room, three if counting the ill-maintained ducts responsible for removing stale air from the building. All of us except Maekita and the napping Perez could make it through and we sure as the Reaper’s last kiss were not going to leave anyone behind.
“There are ten of them and a leader who is 22. They have a Subclass,” I quickly relayed as soon as the door leading from the chem lab was gently shut. “Assault, Marksman. Like the Proficiency used to be, but maybe their focus.”
“They all have the new form of Firearms?” Cordo asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Everyone sighed or otherwise showed discontent as I sadly nodded.
“Communicating quickly via mere hand gestures. There wasn’t even magic, no movement of the lips,” Lyissa continued with a scoff. “I know that there are languages for those that lack a voice, but this, this was so obscure.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Maekita said while chewing on her lip. It looked like the traditionally fragile area was resistant to that particular nervous tic, unintentionally staring at her for a moment. “Back on Earth, special forces – I mean, uh, elite warriors had their own unique battle signs. They might be dodging what the Pearls can maybe understand with it, and that’s why we don’t pick up on it.”
“All well and good, but that only goes to confirm they have armaments better than our current equipment and act as one mind with the group of ten assembled,” Cordo unhelpfully commented.
“Koliastra?” I said, looking around. She shifted around, making her presence known almost halfway across the room next to a shelf chock full of reagents. A charitable observation was she was watching the other door leading outside. “Any insights?”
“Our Fireteam is full,” she grumbled, rocking back and forth. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, neither could I fathom how pitiful she was reacting. This wasn’t the time nor place for it, we needed her calculated saurian instinct! “If we found anyone else, they would have to be alone, make their own.”
“That’s… something. Anything helps at this point,” Lyissa sighed, patting her pocket. “Jericho discovered that a Scroll we found was damaged. And he could fix it potentially if he were-, what was it? Arcanist?”
“Arcanotechnician. Probably another Subclass but in Support. It actually reminds me a little bit about Ar-, Arti-artif-,” I replied, gritting my teeth as a migraine threatened to lodge itself in my brain. “My previous Class.”
We sat in silence, listening.
There was a sharp report, followed by two more in quick succession. Muffled, below us.
“They must be going through the ground floor, clearing offices,” Cordo stated, slotting a bolt into his crossbow. “This is hardly the place to make a stand, especially with all these materials around us.”
“Yep. I fucking hate all of it,” Maekita grunted, palming Perez’s entire face as she inspected his throat-pulse with a giant finger. “I found some javelins. Nothing special, but I can do this with Thrown weapons.”
Reaching behind her, the Oni woman grabbed a basic iron tier javelin. We all looked on as faint sparks of electricity arced between her arm and the weapon. It must have been a weak demonstration as it disappeared about as fast as Koliastra’s attempt at shapeshifting into her true form.
“There’s a bit of a cooldown depending on the three Charge steps, but it’s kinda like my Pa-al-ally Smite I took,” she sighed.
Then looked up to note our combined bewilderment.
“You decided to pursue a Holy-focused vocation?” Cordo asked, addressing the figurative elephant-in-the-room.
“What?” she chuckled. “A half-Demon-half-Ogre striving to become some kind of righteous crusader tilting at windmills for a good cause. I like playing against type, bite me.”
The air cleared a little. We all shared a smile, nodding, chuckling. Koliastra shrugged her shoulders for a basic sign of life.
“What’s it like,” the Dragoness began with a whisper, “choosing how you became what you are?”
Maekita cleared her throat, shifting to sit cross-legged. The bandages were fresh, soaked through with black blood, but a quick glance revealed her Health was thankfully recovered.
“Well, I might be an Otherworlder, but I died there. I was sick. Weak. Always frail, couldn’t keep up with my siblings and friends,” the now-Oni related. Staring up at the ceiling, watching the memories across its canvas. “One day, I think my heart gave out. It was noon, my vision went dark for a moment, the really long stairs leading from my neighborhood to a nice little park all of a sudden just… just…”
She sighed. Lyissa leaned over to put a hand on the tall woman’s knee. A grateful smile in return. I on the other hand took out a few of my Elemental rounds, fiddling with the… Fire ones. No, not quite. They felt… odd.
“Well, uh, after that I remember this big platform. A deck of cards as big as me constantly shuffling. A voice that spoke in my head and wrote across my eyes like the System does. It asked if I wanted a chance to have a do-over. Not in a condescending jackass kind of way, but, well, I dunno.
“Then I realized I didn’t have to hunch over with my oxygen mask, lugging the damn tank behind me on wheels or in a bag I could barely hold with my other things. I could drop both of them and stand tall for the first time in my life.
“We talked things over and he showed me different worlds I could go to. Different Classes, how they developed into their Subclasses. It was easier to plan that out after looking through the Races though.”
Maekita smiled. A tiny bead of moisture in the low light collected at the corner of her eye.
“I finally had the strength to stand on my own without a mask feeding me air to be barely healthy. Stand tall over almost all other people, even monsters. I could be me, but an Oni, something I loved reading about in all my favorite books, growing into her prime, living out this wonderful life and meeting people and going on adventures!”
Her voice broke, remembering she had to keep quiet. The Fire rune between my fingers sparked, shifting its meaning ever so slightly into Blast.
“The novelty almost wore off when I found out I wasn’t the only one, but that’s why I applied for the Administrata. I wanted to make sure that others like me could enjoy this second lease on life as much as I could between my own fun. But now…”
We sat in silence.
Bang!
Grit our teeth, clenched our fists, turned our heads in shame. I opened my mouth.
“We need to stop them.”
All eyes were on me, yet slowly shifted to Koliastrazana. She clenched her fingers around the desk leg she was sitting against, wood groaning in protest as splinters popped and crackled within her scaled fingers.
“They ripped off my wings. You say they brought this machinegun, forcing their ideals onto my World. This will not stand,” she continued, standing. I could have sworn the shadows lengthened around her, a shift in the air that bent the candlelight. “I will return this in kind with fang, flame, and claw.”
“Koliastra, wait-!” I urged, crawling quickly towards her and catching her hand just as the Dragoness stepped toward the door. “We’ve all lost part of ourselves in this, you perhaps most. Don’t charge in without a plan, without assistance!”
“Why not? I am an Assault. What better way than to charge headlong into the fray, Jeri?” the bullheaded lizard countered dispassionately. Despite being compressed into this short woman, she still had some of that Draco strength it seemed, easily yanking me along with her next step.
“How do you expect to reach them with your talons before they cut you down?” I hissed, blocking myself between her and the exit. “At least with my revolver, Mae’s javelins, there would be some cover. Cordo, well, a crossbow-“
“I would like to add I am far from a novice with it,” the Orc grumbled.
“-and Lyissa… Lyissa… her extra set of eyes. Worst to worst, maybe we wake Perez and throw him at the Narcs.” Wincing, my mind realized what left my mouth too late.
“As much as I’m aware of Were-creature hardiness,” the Elf responded quietly, wringing her wrists, “I would prefer to not throw my friend to the proverbial wolves to test whether or not he might survive. We don’t know what form of material or enchantment they could be using on their weapons.”
Koliastra growled, crossing her arms.
“Fine! But every second we cower in this storage room is another soul lost.”
Everyone tensed.
Then gradually looked at me.
“What? Is there something behind me?” I carefully asked.
“No, but you are holding a Firearm,” Cordo nodded solemnly, “and have some insight into how to use it.”
“And you’re the one able to understand items after I inspect them,” Lyissa gestured towards me, bundling her hair to tie it into a ponytail.
“Not to mention kinda smart,” Maekita sighed, picking up the quiver of javelins and fastening them to her belt while standing, “or just cause dumb luck let you look at the deets on the bad guys without getting made.”
“You’re in my way, Jeri, and I don’t want to hurt you,” Koliastrazana rounded off the four comedians, “though I have deigned to continue trusting your annoyingly logical judgment.”
It would have been perfect if Perez chimed in. I made a show of checking his Status. Still Incapacitated, the Wolfsbane pill dissolving on his tongue or lodged in his throat. Hopefully that would be enough to keep him sedated until we could address his unique circumstances.
Holstering my revolver, scratching my head, I groaned.
The halls outside were quiet. A gunshot rang out from the far side it seemed. The Narcs were finishing up the ground floor.
“Liastra?” I turned, piquing the Dragoness’ interest as I used the only shortened part of her name she officially allowed me. “You said the maximum was a team of six?”
“Even with Perez unconscious, yes, we are at capacity for the Fireteam as prescribed by the System.”
“There are ten out there. A range of Levels. However, if they aren’t the same Levels, couldn’t all be in the same Fireteam, they’re not sharing what they get.”
“Maybe they can’t view each other through the System group info either,” Mae suggested.
Reaper’s shroud, that was it.
We had an advantage, however small.
“Cordo, Liastra, circle to the other side. Mae, with me. Lyissa, stay with Perez. Maybe think Heavy thoughts?”
The Elf scoffed as I grinned, inwardly steeling myself for what was to come.