Chapter 7: The Weirdoes.

Stepping out of my little haven took more time than I’d care to admit. Part of my hesitation was fueled by a healthy fear of the freaking giant centipedes, but other worries kept knifing me in the gut.

‘Such as the sight of Steve.’

I had a bad feeling that sleep wouldn’t be coming quite as easily as before. Not after seeing that.

Beyond that, there was the annoyingly persistent hangover to consider, slowing down my thoughts and movements by miniscule amounts.

‘Though the smallest error might yet be the death of me.’ I thought bitterly.

Beyond that, was another, more pertinent oozing pustule stinking up my hopes of companionship.

That is to say, what kind of reaction I could expect from any people I approached.

“Stop that, Sully. You’re being stupid. This is a serious situation with real stakes. Sure, some people don’t care for mind-readers, but any port in a storm, right? Also stop talking to yourself. Its weird. You’re going to weird people out. You haven’t been here long enough to go insane. Get your act together. Think positive thoughts.”

Regardless, I eventually gathered my courage and forced myself through the open door and the illusions I’d placed in the gap.

Seeing the damp, dark hallway with my own eyes rather than my map brought about a sense of disorientation. It was as if the latter was superimposed on the reality I perceived with my eyes, almost like a filter for a photograph. One was a colourless grid I could sense through my fog, while another was just, reality as I always knew it.

With a start, I realized that the image inside my fog was sharper and that it picked up details in the surrounding rock better than my eyes. I had fallen into the habit of relying on the map first without realizing it, having familiarized myself with the new sense to the point where I trusted it implicitly.

That was worrying.

Sure, I wanted to stay optimistic, but throwing caution to the wind was often a prelude to a violent messy death.

No, better to have faith in my own eyes for now.

The first step forward was the hardest, and I had to fight my instincts to avoid turning back.

After that, each subsequent, tentative stride came with more confidence.

‘Yeah. I can totally do this. I can totally go out hunting monsters. I can totally save people. I totally won’t get my face chewed off by giant bugs.’

Breathing deeply, I began to draw out a bolt and start practising. The first exercise I thought of was a simple one. Just hang on the purple wisp of death while walking. That’s it.

I kept moving and tried to get a feel for the projectile without firing it. When that proved simple, I branched out to new tricks. Making it come closer, pushing it farther from my body without releasing it, prodding it to go up or down while keeping it stable.

It took some getting used to, but the routine was soon familiar enough that I could show some confidence.

Feeling thusly, I tried firing two bolts in succession. The wall formed behind my eyes and no more wisps came out. After that, I tried all of my new techniques, attempting to find some loophole that would let me abuse the strongest attack I had.

No such luck.

Fluorescent mushrooms lit my way as I delved deeper into the foreboding darkness. Their soft greenish light created an ambiance of alien beauty when contrasted to the swaying pink vines that appeared down diverging paths.

I couldn’t sense the plants within my fog, but I figured there was no great loss there. My map knew where the intersections were and I could see them clearly by their bioluminescence. I definitely wouldn’t be caught off-guard by something I failed to pick up ever again.

Instead, I was more worried about the stupid pebbles stabbing at my feet every now and then.

It wasn’t anything too bad, but it was more annoying every time it happened.

I’d wince, brush the offending bit of stone out the way, swear loudly and move on.

The problem was that this entire maze was constructed in such a way as to ensure a near constant stream of hidden pebbles. Not to mention the puddles of still water that appeared with slightly less frequency.

‘Okay. Don’t let something this small get to you man. You got this. Stay positive. Stay positive. Happy thoughts all around. Dwelling on the pain isn’t going to make it go away.’

My wounded hand brought me back to reality with a jolt of pain.

I cursed once more and absentmindedly considered how unfair it was that it was losing feeling and experiencing hypersensitivity at the same time.

Shrugging, I kept going. Filling my map and slaying monsters as I progressed.

The idea was to keep going up.

Momentary setbacks due to dead ends were fine as long as I ended up back on the same course. If there was a ceiling, and more importantly, a hatch through which people got in, then it was only a matter of time until I found it.

So, off I went. Further and further. Until a faint clicking sound echoed in the shadows, just as I was crouching to get pebbles out of my feet.

A very large arrow, or maybe a small ballista bolt, embedded itself in the stone with a resounding:

THUNK!

The shock sent me reeling and my heart beat with a new rush from the adrenaline.

I looked at it for a long time, contemplating how close I’d come to death. If the purpose of this place was indeed, educational in nature, then this was a flagrant misuse of resources. That is, to say, a waste of kidnaping victims like me.

With that in mind, who would have put this here and why? What could they have hoped to gain? What was their angle? Was there even a reason? Or did the architect find the notion of laying traps only the most caffeinated paranoids would be able to anticipate endlessly amusing?

If so, why put those little white spots around the pressure plate? A sense of fairness? Here?

Several gulps and an existential crisis later, I was back on my feet. Moving far more slowly than before and hugging the right wall, but moving nonetheless.

Sadly, the threat of death hadn’t changed the futility of all other options.

I still needed food and help from other people if I wanted to survive. Expecting either to land on my lap was unrealistic, given the current context. Granted, the prospect of trying to figure out where the deathtraps were by being ‘extra careful’ wasn’t very appetizing, but it was all I had. That was, until I managed to unlock [Precognition] or some other means of sniffing out trouble.

So, I moved, further and further still.

Into the beckoning abyss that twisted itself through diverging openings to adjacent tunnels. Some were big enough to fit elephants inside while others could barely fit a person crawling on all fours.

Some were devoid of the pink fronds that had scratched me while others were filled to bursting with them.

Twice I sensed animals inside my fog. Not dissimilar to the centipedes, but not hostile in any way. Their own minds reflected their cowardice and their instincts to avoid confrontation as they exploded at my approach.

‘Flee! The two legs come!’

‘Flee! Away! Away!’

‘Mean sounds! Angry sounds!’

‘No closer! Away!’

‘Not friend! Not friend!’

‘Eats us! Chews on our bones!’

‘Eats us! Grabs the tails! Bites the legs!’

That was, new.

Honestly, I didn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved.

Whatever these things were, they could notice me around the same time as I noticed them and they could feel which direction I was heading in. That ability would have been troublesome on a centipede, which made it all the stranger that they lacked it. Surely the sadist behind this maze wouldn’t have overlooked the chance to step on his victims a little more.

Oh well. I would take whatever small victories I could get. I’d leave these guys alone so long as they left me alone.

That aside, I did notice a fair number of centipedes in the adjacent tunnels and I wasted no time putting them in their place.

That is to say, the ground. Figuratively speaking of course. I just blew their brains out with psychic blasts.

Then, when my Psy got low, I put some illusions near a dead end and had a little break. It was a wonderful way of going about exploration.

No more levels though. Which was strange but not entirely unexpected.

I’d already realized this place and the screen worked on video game logic back when Steve was still alive. Though I still could not fathom the reason. It made sense that exploiting the same mob over and over again wouldn’t get me much further.

On the other hand, there were the changes to my body in general.

Every level gave me more Psy, but what did that mean? What was Psy?

None of the scientific journals mentioned a new kind of energy back in my world. Studies would instead reference brainwave activity or the thickness of established nerve networks. It was, for the most part, a parade of similar, completely superficial observations.

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All the smart people knew there were differences between a normal human and an Esper, but no one could tell how a normal human turned into an Esper. Was it a natural evolution? Was it radiation? Was it some drug in the water? Some kind of bio-weapon? What about animals? Why didn’t they get powers? Could it be the side-effect of medication? Or maybe genetic manipulation at a global scale?

Too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

It was unfortunate, but no sense crying about it now.

Instead, it only made sense to cry about a whole host of other possibilities, such as the very real chance that there may be worse critters out there. Suppressing the shudder that crawled up my spine, I kept my feet moving through the stone floor.

“Remember your mantra. Happy thoughts. Positive thoughts. You’ll make it through this. You always do.”

Running was always an option if it came to that. Yet, surviving and saving people in danger was more important.

That said, there was an issue that was irking me more and more.

‘Holy mothballs this place is gigantic! Let’s just ignore the whole multiple dimension kidnapper thing, who in their right mind would even think to make this layout!? Where did they get the money!? Where did they find the time!? Who even signs up to dig out some old pervert’s murder-dungeon? How much could you make as a contractor digging out murder-dungeons? This isn’t exactly a standard house renovation.’

In my mind, an image appeared of a lonely, depressed and underpaid goon in a bright yellow costume driving down a country road offering cash to dig creepy caves for rich people. I imagine him feeling dirty inside and having to come home smelling of sweat and cave moss. I also imagined him getting miner’s lung and stubbing his toe on the nightstand as he got up in the morning.

Good.

That would serve him right.

I hoped he got bitten by the bugs and poisoned by the plants.

I sighed and stopped to take a break, leaning my back against the flat surface of a nearby wall.

My journey was growing more and more tedious as the hallway I was taking diverged into three separate passages. I couldn’t sense any monsters down any of them and I also couldn’t see very far due to the even dimmer lighting.

Shrugging, I opted to retrace my steps and choose a more well-lit branching path.

I wasn’t exactly scared of the dark and I’d even grown somewhat reliant on my fog, but I didn’t like the idea of not knowing what could be around the corner.

A few hundred metres didn’t feel all that assuring when my hand was still throbbing from a giant bug bite.

So, I went and kept going down an almost identical tunnel to the one I’d come through before.

Then I kept going and going. Trying my best to avoid the freaking pebbles all over the freaking place.

‘Seriously! I hope that underpaid contractor breaks his leg! No, both his legs! Both his legs and an arm! I hope his girlfriend breaks up with him for being a smelly loser who puts pebbles into caves and digs out murder-dungeons! He probably stinks of alcohol and dead cats! He probably put all these pebbles here because he has no friends! He probably has no friends because he’s a loser who digs out creepy tunnels and stinks of dead cats!’

My fully justified righteous indignation was interrupted for a brief moment as I picked up on another person at the very edges of my fog.

Then they were closer.

Much closer.

They were approaching my location with frightening alacrity, despite the many walls and the twisting nature of the labyrinth.

Their thoughts were bursting with unchecked excitement. Sweet jubilation that exploded from the very core of their being.

‘WHOOOOOOOOOO! I LOVE THIS PLACE! YEAH! YEAH! FASTER! FASTER! I’LL SHOW YOU MR. WHITMER! YOU SMELLY OLD FART! YOU THINK YOU CAN KILL MY DOG AND GET AWAY WITH IT!? YOU AND YOUR GOONS ARE DONE FOR! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET OUT! JUST YOU WAIT YOU FAT…!’

Before I knew it, they had reached the edge of my map, halfway inside my fog.

Then further in, again, much faster than a human should be able to move.

Then the man was running towards me, fast as a motorcycle.

He was young and skinny, with taut muscles and dirty clothes.

His face sported some bruises and a broken nose. In his right hand was a metal crowbar. No, not a crowbar, some sort of metal instrument shaped like a cow’s leg.

He barely looked my way as he passed, slowing down for a few seconds and yelling:

“Watch out for the sludge! It’s the only thing I haven’t been able to kill! Also, avoid the gnomes! They’re crazy and evil! They’re crazy evil!”

And just like that, he was gone. His mind kept playing the same message over and over like a broken record. The persistence of the idea fascinating and empowering him.

I could only stare at his back as it rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Then he was at the edges of my map again. Then at the border of my fog.

“Huh.” I said, unable to think of anything else.

“I mean, thank you. For the advice I mean. I guess you don’t need help.”

It was a good interaction, all things considered. I found out that not everyone needed saving. Which was good.

A load off my shoulders and my conscience.

Nice.

Also, there was a sludge out there, that was presumably alive and dangerous. Excellent piece of information.

I stood there like an imbecile for a solid minute or two, trying to get past the initial surprise.

‘Gnomes? As in, garden gnomes? Or is it more like classical fairies? Is a pixie going to jump out of a pond and give me a riddle?’

In the end, I shrugged and kept moving in the same direction as before.

“Okay, the next person I meet will be the one. I’ll open up about what happened. We’ll have a chat and hopefully we can team up.”

The next few people I saved wouldn’t entertain me however. I erased the monster harassing them and reached out through [Message].

‘Hello friends! Have no fear. You’re safe now.’

To which they responded:

‘AAAAH! Evil spirit!’

‘It’s the wraith! It’s the wraith on the walls!’

‘Go away! The power of Saturn protects me! Begone from this place!’

‘Leave us be!’

‘It’s the gnomes again! It’s the gnomes again!’

‘AAAAAAAA!’

Well fine. Be that way.

I tried not to take it personally and moved further along. People who would’ve died were now safe. That was all I needed.

“Okay, the next person I meet will be the one. I’ll open up about what happened. We’ll have a chat and hopefully we can team up.”

30 minutes later I was right below another fight.

Again, a quick dose of [Fever] made quick work of the monsters.

‘AAAAAHH!’

‘It’s a witch!’

‘Quick! Find a temple! We have to find a temple!’

‘The gnomes! The gnomes are coming closer!’

‘Quick, bash that one’s skull! Hurry! Before the rest catch up!’

“Fine. No problem. The next person I meet will be the one. I’ll open up about what happened. We’ll have a chat and hopefully we can team up.”

Another hour passed until I reached yet another group in need of assistance.

At least, that’s what I assumed was happening.

On closer inspection, the stampede of monsters was headed away from the person, rather than towards them.

Reaching out to them made me stumble with nausea.

For a second, all my senses were a wee jumbled. Up was down and left was right. I tried to move my hand out. To break my fall.

My body jerked both its legs, and I had to supress the urge to throw up. Another second later, I was blind, then deaf, then mute.

That’s when the voice came, cute and melodious, not unlike an adorable songbird.

‘Would you like to be my friend?’

Another spasm struck me as I tried to get up.

‘I like having friends. I’m really strong and I can stretch into boots and pants and shirts. I’m better than what you’re wearing. The dead fibres don’t care about you. They’re just using you for your supple skin. They don’t want you as a friend. Not like me. I want to be your friend. Come to me. We can be so much stronger together.’

Briefly overtaken by panic, I attacked through the fog.

It reached the speaker.

It did nothing.

‘Weak. You’re still this weak. But I don’t care. I want to be your friend. I want to make you, the best you, that you can be. Come be my friend.’

In retrospect, the realization that the creature wasn’t human really should have come earlier.

The connection was briefly severed when [Hide] activated and I lost no time in getting out of there.

Running for another 20 minutes saw me entering a peculiar area.

Here, the floor alternated between rough natural scenery and roughly carved planks of wood. They weren’t ubiquitous enough to be called common, but it was a welcome change given the lack of pebbles.

“Okay, the next person I meet will be the one. I’ll open up about what happened. We’ll have a chat and hopefully we can team up.”

Once more, a one two punch of a bolt and a blooming fever took care of the issue. I opened communications and hoped for the best.

‘It’s the Shepherd again!’

‘Please tell us where you are!’

‘We’ll take you away from this place! Back to our tribe! We’ll stay together! One big family!’

‘Yes! Join our family!’

Another bust then.

No big deal.

I keep helping people and I keep making a difference.

Its all good.

“The next person for sure.”

It took a bit longer to find another human being. Another 2 hours to be exact. This whole time, I was mowing down centipedes with nary a level to show for it and my hand ached like never before.

In spite of that, I was content. I was making a difference.

There were emotions inside my fog, one floor above me and a little to the right. I tasted the distinct heartlessness of bloodthirsty creatures surrounding a person.

I rushed to the fight, wanting to get close enough that I could use [Message] to coordinate with my fellow survivor.

The individual in question was silent as the grave.

No thoughts nor emotions escaped from their cranium, leading me to believe that they might be injured. That worry turned out to be baseless, as I felt pain and anger coming from the unknown creatures. They were frustrated that their prey was so quick and stubborn. Salivating at the prospect of biting into still-living flesh.

‘False fur, dead fur.’

‘Sharp claw. Very sharp.’

‘Claw hurts the scales and hurt the friends.’

‘Long ears. Dead ears.’

Their monologue was cut off abruptly as one of them came down with a case of exposed brain. It was followed by the rest of them catching a very bad and sudden flu, which left them exhausted and overheating.

What a tragedy.

Swift steps took me nearer and nearer and the fight was soon encompassed by the edges of my map. Wasting no time, I opened communications.

‘Don’t worry! I’m here to help! I’ll blast them dead and keep them slowed. You get to safety!’

Once more, I noted the lack of thoughts and emotions swirling around my fellow human. However, I did notice the sudden chill and death afflicting their assailants.

Level Gained: +5 Maximum Psy. +3 Ability Points.

Nice! Another little power boost and confirmation that the tide was turning.

I could see the room now, located firmly within my map.

Better yet, I could feel the last of the monsters succumbing to their wounds. With a smile on my face and a song in my heart, I made my way over to the chamber where the fight had been.

“Hey there!” I said as I rounded the corner. “Are you hurt?”

Looking at the individual, I soon came to the conclusion that he wasn’t hurt.

Or rather, that he wouldn’t be hurt for long.

What few wounds he did have were located on his arms and legs and they were closing rapidly. It was as if someone were re-winding time, dragging the universe back to the point before any conflict took place.

‘This person is a Shifter.’ I thought absentmindedly, before the rest of their body came into focus.

They were tall. Very tall. Maybe 190 cm or 6’2. They were also skinny, to the point where there was barely any meat on their exposed limbs. That wasn’t the most eye-catching thing though. No, that was merely an afterthought.

The most prominent feature this guy had, was his costume.

He was wearing a full-body Funny Bunny costume, stained red and black with blood and ichor. At his feet were a dozen giant eel corpses, all dismembered at various points.

They were grey-green in colour, with red and white fins along their backs and bio-luminescent rows of sharpened teeth jutting from their jaws.

In additions they were roughly twice as big as the centipedes had been, both in length and thickness. Perhaps they were amphibious, crawling like snakes to ambush prey or perhaps they were telekinetic and floated along the caves as if swimming through water.

From their wounds leaked a tiny lake of foul-smelling blood. It trickled onto the stone floor, mixing with tiny puddles of water and giving the room a haunted ambiance.

On his head was Funny’s face, cold dead plastic eyes staring in my direction. The cartoon’s look-alike had none of the original’s mirth.

No, this one was utterly still. Unmoving in a manner similar to that of predatory felines.

In his hand, was a huge, bloody, meat cleaver.

Its blade was chipped in several spots along the edge and its sides were caked in viscera and bits of pulverized bone.

He was breathing deeply.

Each intake of air coming in hard and leaving harder.

The cleaver remained in his hand, gripped so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Yet, both the weapon and his arm remained fixed at their current positions. Neither moved a single inch, even as the man’s torso heaved with life.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I began to hear the newscasters back home disgorging the daily updates.

“Family of four slaughtered…”

“Robbing a convenience store…”

“Twentynine confirmed victims so far…”

“No clear motive…”

“Attack came out of the blue…”

“From healer to killer…”

The eyes kept peering at me, as the breaths remained steady. All the while, his mind was empty as the void.

No emotions. No thoughts.

No sign of awareness or purpose beyond those his body betrayed.

‘Oh. (Centipede) me.’

He kept that up for a full minute before I made an executive decision to cut my losses there.

I took a small step backwards, mustering my will to allocate my points.

In an instant, 5 points brought [Hide] to level 3, while 4 points brought [Faint Presence] and [Static Illusion] to level 2 each.

Wasting no time, I poured Psy into the former, feeling the man’s eyes lose track of me. He tilted his head in apparent confusion, probably wondering where I’d gone.

For my part, I booked it.

The almost vertical path I took on my way up was quickly covered by a much more credible wall of phantom stones, buying me a few precious minutes.

After that, I kept going.

As a matter of fact, I didn’t stop until I looped around a few times and went down another floor, only to ascend three more at a different location.

Only then did I allow myself the privilege of well-deserved rest and a heavy sigh of relief.