[Player Log Start!]

[Log Holder: Asadullah Khan]

[Level: 4???]

[! Log Translated From Urdu !]

Asadullah didn’t dare pull his attention away from Roiland for even a second. The man had been powerful before, and no doubt he had taken the months of convalescence as an opportunity to increase his range and dexterity with his flames.

The fire could burst out from any direction, with barely a twitch of his fingers, and Asadullah needed to be ready for the moment that it struck.

Glass shattered a few inches off from his ears, and he almost thought that that was the first strike. Except upon turning, he found no flames. Just Terry holding the broken Console in his hands.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, almost hysterically, “That was our only bargaining chip!”

“And it was going to give him a leg up.” Terry told him firmly, “We already decided that we would break it, Asad, don’t go soft on me now.”

Asadullah forced himself to stay calm, even as the one lifeline back home lay crushed in his friend’s hands. Roiland was coming closer now, within striking range of last time. Maybe he hadn’t improved?

Or, he had to consider as the man sauntered up to them with an ugly grin, he had simply wanted to look into their eyes when he killed them.

“Ran back to your ‘home’, huh?” Roiland simpered, “You’re all so predictable in your sentimentality.”

Asadullah’s ears were pinned back as far as they could go, but he still tried to play it casual as he asked, “What’d you do with the Mitt siblings?”

“Who? Those little runts that never even played properly?” Roiland laughed, “They’re dead. Good stats and abilities, though. I’m going to recommend the Developers repurpose the Save Files of the boy later. For now, you only have this to remember them by.”

He held up his arm, displaying the Console strapped to it. At this close range, Asadullah could see the blood streaking the sides. Roiland’s eyes were watching them carefully, drinking in their reactions, before instead fixating on the broken shards of glass and metal in Terry’s hand. All amusement drained from him, then.

“What did you do to it?” He snarled, “Don’t you know how important these things are?”

“Which is why we can’t let you have it.” Asadullah replied, already anticipating the flex of Roiland’s hand, and the near-instantaneous buildup of heat.

Calling up the transformation wasn’t as reflexive as before. He had to push his body intently, begging the other consciousness now in control of such matters to kick into gear – and it took Babur a few seconds then to understand the situation and begin shifting around to start wrapping around him and giving him a protective coat of muscle and fur.

He was barely halfway through turning into a tiger when the fireball rocketed towards them, but there was no other shield to hide behind. Asadullah grabbed Terry and let his own back take the brunt of the fireball.

Pain.

White-hot pain flashed through him, blanking out his vision and making him lose awareness of the world around him. Everything hurt just so damn much.

Asadullah was flipped over, and he only realized when rocks dug into the fresh, smoking wound on his back, adding more blistering pain to the area.

Through blurry eyes, he saw Terry stand, and push his hands outwards. A flurry of green tendrils followed his movements, coming out from under his sleeves and through the pockets of his jacket, hitting Roiland like precision missiles.

It was strange, he noted through pain-addled delirium. The fungus seemed to covering more of his arms than usual. Where had Terry gotten such long gloves to protect himself?

The spores, or fungi, or whatever it was that Terry had shot, almost landed on Roiland like a fine dusting. But before they could make contact and any damage could be done, he incinerated every speck with a flash of fire over his body. His smirk was back. He thought that they had no chance of beating him.

Asadullah pulled himself up, ignoring the screaming of newly shredded skin as he pushed Babur into continuing the transformation. Not a tiger this time. Something smaller. A serval. It allowed him to pick parts of himself that weren’t injured to go into the construction of this new body.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

It was humiliating, but the best thing to do right now was wait. Give the transformation the time it needed, and in the meanwhile, let Terry fend him off.

And Terry was doing marvelously by himself. He had activated his Nature Affinity again, this time to have wild shrubbery spring up and snag around Roiland, trapping him. Asadullah had seen these exact shrubs in the aftermath of the wildfire that Roiland had caused during Babur’s first rampage. They would weather whatever blaze the man tried to throw at them.

Even if they couldn’t keep up with his now improved powers, that was fine. It was only meant to be a temporary distraction, for Terry to tear off the raggedy glove the killer mold had been growing on for the past few months and fling it in Roiland’s direction.

It connected to his face with a meaty schlap. The fungus came alive within milliseconds, digging into his skin and spreading before Roiland even seemed to understand what had happened. He grimaced, opening his mouth to complain or say something, but Asadullah never got the chance to find out what, as his eyes bulged brightly, possibly feeling the effects of the infection as it made short work of any available nutrients in his body.

A cocoon of fuzzy green, barely recognizable as a human body, was what hit the ground.

Babur pulled himself off Asadullah, the feline form going with him, leaving Asadullah curled up on the ground in his human body, his back feeling like it had been flayed alive. But that wasn’t hit concern. All he could think of was Terry, and the carelessness with which he had thrown the glove.

He wasn’t immune to the effects of the mold, even if he had successfully tamed and weaponized it. Even a second of skin contact with it could spell doom.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stumbling over to snatch Terry’s arms. His fingers were thick and unwieldly as he rolled the other man’s sleeves back to get a better look.

The one that had been covered by several layers of plastic and rubber for the last few months was pale and wrinkled, dirt and oils built up in the spaces until it looked like black lines. The entire appendage looked sick, the skin leathery and sliding away under Asadullah’s touch. Veins were shining brightly under it all, looking almost… green?

Asadullah took too long to realize he wasn’t looking at blood vessels.

He glanced up at Terry, desperate for answers. Terry just yanked his hand loosely out of his grip, holding it close to his chest and not meeting Asadullah’s gaze.

“It happened not long ago.” He admitted, “I can keep going for a little longer. Keeping it bay with my Nature Affinity, but it’s got it’s hooks in, and I don’t see it leaving soon.”

“There’s gotta be a cure, right?” Asadullah asked, his voice teetering on desperation, “Some sort of pesticide or repellant or something. We can beat this.”

Terry’s gaze hardened, and he shook his head, “No.” He hesitated for a moment, before switching to the more comfortable English, “No. We need to end this.” He pointed at the remains of Roiland, “Go back to Delica, find Paterson. Try and stop him, too. See it through to the end. If we try to find a way to fix me now, we’ll be wasting precious time.”

Asadullah wanted to scream. Shake Terry. Insist that his life was worth it because what else could Asadullah possibly have to fight for?

But he was right. They had all been separated, thrown across the Realms. Whatever they wanted with Paterson, they would be sending more Harbingers to secure him. No to mention whoever had whisked away Tench and Lucky.

Nothing could be left up to chance.

He let out a regretful sigh, and pressed the popup that had been hovering over them since their arrival here.

[Returning to Level 2 – Sublevel!]

They landed in almost the exact spot they had run from. Except everything was silent now.

Delica was in ruins. All the huts were either flattened or ablaze. Most of the residents had been evacuated in time, otherwise Asadullah guessed that there would have been more bodies. As it was, there were only a few person-shaped silhouettes left in the ash.

He muttered a regretful prayer and moved hastily out of the blast zone, searching for any face intact enough for him to recognize.

Simon’s body was slumped over by what remained of a wall, with rebar sticking out of his chest that he was staring at with glassy eyes and a slack-jawed expression. One of his hands was extended to a spot just a few inches off the ground, stiffly closed over nothing but an imprint of a body.

“The Gamers are reliant on their Console remaining active, right?” Terry guessed, “If it was Nancy’s Roiland ripped out, he likely sent her back to wherever she was before she got the Console.”

Maybe that had happened to the other imprints they saw as well. Maybe none of them were dead. Maybe this could all be salvaged-

Maybe he was hoping for too much and setting himself up for disappointment.

“Let’s look for Paterson.” Asadullah turned away, “If he’s here, then… at least we know where one problem is.”

“And if he isn’t?” Terry asked, following behind him.

“Then we try to get back to CephaloRaven and hope he doesn’t show up there, too.” Asadullah replied, trying to decide where in this wasteland they should start to search.

Turns out, they didn’t have to, as a giant flashing arrow appeared on the horizon. Terry squinted at it carefully, “That looks like the Warp Point we came in through.” He noted, “New Quest?”

They jogged there uncertainly, their movements labored from the fight and weeks of lethargy. Upon reaching the Warp Point, they were met with the message:

[SubLevel is Defunct!]

[Due to Problems within the Level Structure, this SubLevel is now considered Non-Functional]

[All Ongoing Quests & Objectives Have Been Annulled]

[Previous Quests & Objectives Have Been Reinstated]

[Return to Main Level?]

[{x} Yes { } No]

It was cute that the System pretended they had a choice in this. Asadullah rolled his eyes and pressed [Yes], already used to the nausea of constant teleportation.

Upon rematerializing, he was met with a strong pair of arms wrapping around his middle and squeezing.

“Asadullah!” Kathy squealed, “You’re out! Where’s Simon and Nancy?”

[Player Log End!]