Chapter 12

“You interrupted my Hallmark Movie, you piece of shit!” Drew’s mom yelled as she cast several hexes and curses at the towering metal being.

“It was a good one too.” Beefcake said angrily as he heaved his heavy two-handed sword into the same target.

Mark slipped out from the shadows and appeared behind the metallic invader, shoving his shortswords into the joints of the enemy. He quickly pulled them out and thrusted them back in with even more force, going hilt deep into the weak points. The Forgeborn had first appeared two weeks after Drew and his wife had left, and although they were lacking in numbers, each one was an absolute bear to take down.

The Forgeborn, as the Valkyries called them, were incredibly difficult to take down in a permanent manner. They looked like a cross between a medieval knight, a golem, and a science fiction robot. There was nothing organic about the beings that had been scouting the area, the suit of armor they appeared to be wearing was their actual body, and the small gaps in the joints were the only weak spots that could be exploited by someone like Mark. Instead of flesh and blood, invaders were made of metal and leather-like fibers that made up their ligaments and muscles.

Mark groaned as the Forgeborn backhanded him and sent the rogue into the nearest tree, splintering it and causing the timber to crack as the mesquite fell to the leaf-covered ground. He checked his hit points and grabbed a health potion as his cracked ribs made themselves known. There was no point in Miranda wasting the mana on a healing spell yet. Mark quickly downed the bottle and bolted off to re-engage the threat.

The tin cans, the derogatory name that Mark had taken to using, had been sending scouting units out, and this was the third unit this week that they’d battled. According to Sindra, they were an intelligent race within the multiverse, but one that had little diplomacy with other beings. They invaded new worlds, stripped them clean of their resources and then left, leaving the planets a barren wasteland. The metallic people then used those captured resources to reproduce.

They rarely traded, they rarely had peaceful interactions with others, and they just took what they wanted regardless of the effects on other races. Like metallic locusts. They were utterly alien in how they regarded other sapient beings. It wasn’t that they hated other races, they were just indifferent to their needs and struggles, they cared only for their chance to reproduce and populate their own race.

Mark twisted his body mid-leap, and slammed both swords into the tin can’s neck fibers, hoping to sever something important. Beefcake held its immediate attention by being the biggest brick shithouse and slammed his oversized sword into the creature, causing major dents and cracks in its outer shell, while Drew’s mom used her spells to weaken, slow, blind, and otherwise debuff it. Miranda hid towards the back of the party, ready to render aid whenever there was an opening.

Bright rays of light shot out from the Forgeborn, each a flat plane, holding the being in place mid-swing. Mark used the opportunity that his wife had given them to wreak havoc on tin can’s neck, stabbing and slicing repeatedly until the head was finally detached. Without the synthetic being’s central processing unit, or whatever synth-brain it had, Beefcake slammed his sword into its side and sent the body spiraling into the left-most tree, where it crashed.

“Little… late… buddy.” Mark breathed heavily, gasping for air as he tried to exert control over his lungs.

“You got lucky, that’s all.” The tall Demon grinned under his helm, rolling his shoulders.

“It was a Christmas in July movie too…” Drew’s mom grumbled, clearly still upset over the scout’s interruption of her show.

“There, there Mrs. Doris. I’m sure it’ll be on again in the future.” Miranda said, patting Drew’s mom’s shoulder.

“I’m seventy-one years old dear, by the time it airs again, I could be dead. I’ll never find out what happens with Kristy and her love interest.” Drew’s mom said.

“She gives up working so hard on her career, refocuses on her family and her roots, they fall in love and get a house together. The end. It’s the same story for each hallmark movie.” Mark said while sighing, rubbing one of his ribs that was still tender from the recent battle.

“Young man, I did not criticize you or my son for playing the same stupid video games year after year. Killing the zombies, and doing quests for maidens. I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same courtesy.” She said sternly to Mark, in that scary tone only mothers could achieve and pull off as a real threat.

“Yes Ma’am.” Mark gulped, wishing he’d never garnered the woman’s ire. The elderly lady was scary as fuck when she got like that, as if she was a stalking jungle cat that was ready to pounce and ended up “Raiden Lightning Kicking” someone off into the distance. No thanks, go back to your show, you scary ass woman. Mark grumbled to himself.

The Forgeborn were coming from an incursion to the southwest of Sanctuary, across the Red River and into the northern part of Texas. Sanctuary had expanded its scouting and defensive forces search radius for threat since the Valkyries had the town defended, and there was likely nothing on the planet that even had a chance of seriously wounding Sindra. But the winged warriors had their rules, and they couldn’t offer anything more than defense of the settlement and its people.

When it came to actively searching for threats, that was on the people of Sanctuary itself. Still, knowing the town was secure, and the civilians were safe was a load off of shoulders, and allowed the martial and magical classes to head out, level up, and know they were coming home to a safe place.

Progress with leveling had slowed down as more people had hit E Grade however. It wasn’t drastically slower, but it was a noticeable change that encouraged people to work harder to achieve results.

One of the Valkyries had taken over martial training at Sanctuary to help the people adjust to their newly improved bodies. For people who had lived their whole lives without The System to suddenly having the physiques of Olympic athletes, there was an adjustment period, and training was one of the best ways to quickly become more comfortable with your body and how it functioned.

Pre-System, a stat point value of twenty in agility would represent the absolute fastest runners, the most capable acrobats, and the most dexterous of all crafters, it was the peak of what was humanly possible. Now, Mark was sitting at over two hundred Agility. Eight miles per hour was the max running speed of an average human prior to The Descent. Mark was now capable of, what he assumed was close to, forty-ish miles per hour, and he had the endurance to keep that speed for several hours if he was well rested and well fed.

The simple fact was, Mark and his team were currently waiting on the rest of Sanctuary to catch up, or get close to their levels. Once the rest of the people were near him, or past level twenty-five, they’d be able to reach out and begin expeditions to other nearby towns. Currently, it didn’t make sense for only Mark’s team to head up and search, they’d need backup, especially in the larger towns.

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Something also needed to be done about the Forgeborn Incursion. Clearly, a peaceful solution was off the table. The tin cans wanted to strip Earth bare and leave the people to rot, at least the ones they didn’t kill in the process of being locusts. But even Mark didn’t feel confident about facing the main incursion of Forgeborn yet, they were just too naturally strong, he needed more levels to feel comfortable taking on more than one or two at a time.

The tin cans were a problem for another day, most likely when Drew came back from his training trip. In the meantime Mark and the others could help out by searching the other towns, rescuing any people in need, and hopefully recruiting people to Sanctuary, or setting up diplomatic ties if nothing else. Sanctuary needed people, they needed more defenders, more farmers, more crafters, more everything. Even with magic, creating a self-sustaining settlement that produced everything they needed would require more people than they had access to at the moment.

Heck, even if they were able to recruit more workers for the crystal mine, it would be a huge boon to the people living there. With that type of income they’d be able to afford better equipment, better materials, better… well better everything. If they couldn’t produce everything they needed to remain competitive in war and magic, then they could trade for it to make up the difference.

Mark had never thought of how many people would actually be required to create a proper suit of plate armor. Who would even think of something like that to begin with? But it suddenly made a lot more sense why knights in medieval times were so rare. The amount of materials and labor required to create just one suit of armor was immense, and that was with magic, back in the old days? It would have taken a massive economy and an entire team of artisans to craft and maintain something like that armor. He shuddered at the thought.

Sanctuary needed more people. It could survive without them, but that was only due to the Valkyries. Without the winged warriors that Drew’s goddess had sent, the settlement and all its people would be fucked. Sanctuary needed to take the time to train people, level them up, and get them to the point they’d be useful, and fast. Especially if the other incursions were anything like the Forgeborn.

The day went on as Mark and his party continued to scout, take on enemies, and basically “grind” their way up in levels. The Forgeborn scout had been spotted by a returning team and that’s what made Mrs. Doris miss her show in the first place, but now that they were already out and about, they might as well continue leveling and removing local threats.

More Kobolds had been found, as well as golems, and Mark’s team handled them. Then they found a panther-like beast with tentacles sprouting from its back, its abilities tricked the senses into thinking the creature was somewhere it wasn’t. Some kind of illusion magic or something. Then there were the literal jackalopes, or rabbits that had deer antlers. They were totally fake before The Fall, something that taxidermists did at one point to make money and take advantage of gullible people, but now they were a real beast.

The little bundles of joy were nearly as fast as Mark, and they charged forward with their antlers like a rhino. The massive burst of speed would slam them into the party's armor and it was a pain in the ass to remove them after that, not to mention painful.

The worst of the bunch were the Slendermen. Tall monsters, vaguely humanoid in shape, but made completely of shadow. They had overly long legs, arms, and taloned fingers, their faces completely blank, and their movements insanely quiet. They could only move when not being viewed, so they were always found in your blindspots, sneaking up behind people before lifting the victims up and tearing into them. Eight-foot tall at minimum, but about a foot thin, they were sneaky, awful bastards.

Sanctuary had already lost four people to the things, and keeping an eye out for them required every party member to constantly be on guard and turning their heads to cover their party’s blind spots. Once you spotted one, they froze, unable to do anything. They were very easy to kill at that point. The problem was actually finding them before they found you. They moved silently, they hid behind trees, or in their canopies, and they were extremely agile, able to quickly move behind someone before fucking them up.

They always went for the face first, which made them horrifying to deal with for many people. Slendermen would skin a victim’s face right off, and then wear it, while the victim screamed and started to bleed to death. Mark had his face regrown twice now, and he wasn’t going to let it happen a third time. Painful didn’t even begin to describe it, those monsters were straight up, nightmare fuel.

Chupacabras were also apparently real, as one poor cow and a rancher managed to find out. The cow and man were drained of their blood, left as shriveled sacks that looked like raisins. The man had somehow managed to live, likely from his stat points alone, but was still in recovery a week later and with constant healing. The cow wasn’t as lucky.

The Valkyries had come down hard on the monster. They maintained constant vigilance over Sanctuary, but somehow one Chupacabra managed to sneak in and the damage was done. People had been on guard ever since that day, and one of the Valkyries had been seen running laps around the settlement for ten days… straight. Without rest. Mark felt bad for the woman, as it was likely an honest mistake.

It was likely near nine at night when Mark and his team made it back to the settlement and finally sat down to eat dinner at the central cafeteria that had been set up. Tonight’s menu included steak, sorry Mr. Raisin Cow, cooked well-done due to the lack of blood in the corpse, corn and fresh french fries from the recent harvest. For dessert was a small sample of distilled corn whiskey, about a shot’s worth at most. Someone had gotten it in their head that people needed access to alcohol to help them relax and forget the horrors of the world.

Mark wasn’t going to complain, there were therapists for the dark shit going on, he was just happy to have a drink to relax after a hard day’s work.

“You have new neighbors.” Sindra said, walking up to Mark while he downed the shot that sent a shiver running up his spine.

“Sindra, good to see you. We just got in, we ran into another Forgeborn scout today.” Mark said, leaning back in the chair and letting the fire of the liquor warm his stomach.

“Other new neighbors.” Sindra clarified.

“Fuck me, is this really what Drew deals with all the time?” Mark complained, rubbing his temples, his blissful relaxation well and truly interrupted.

“People trust you in Drew’s absence, they look to you and your team for leadership while he’s gone. You should feel honored.” Sindra said firmly as she eyed Mark.

“That’s all well and good, but I’m not management material, I was an IT worker before this. I liked IT because I didn’t have to deal with people.” He half groaned, half sighed. “Okay, hit me with it, what are we dealing with this time? Religious zealots? Rampaging Dragons? British Football Hooligans?” Mark asked, wondering which trope the multiverse and System had thrown their way this time.

“Dark elves and Goblins.” Sindra said, almost spitting the last one.

“Goblins? I thought they were monsters, not sapient beings.” Mark said, leaned back in the chair with one hand on his head.

“They are, some evolve and become functional members of the multiverse… in a way.” Sindra said, grimly and also with tact.

“Wonderful. So what happened and who was killed this time?” Mark said, preparing to go tell the others and his wife of whatever shitshow had just shown up on their doorstep.

“No one has died. Both races appeared today outside the gates of Sanctuary as part of peace delegations representing their races.” Sindra replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“They showed up and they want peace? Where did they go?” Mark asked, leaning forward and interested in hearing some good news for once.

“They’re still here. We are unable to leave the settlement, as you know, and thus I was unable to find you when they appeared.” Sindra said, explaining why he hadn’t been told prior to this.

In Drew’s absence, much of the immediate decision making had fallen on Mark and Miranda, much to his utter frustration. He wasn’t meant to deal with cosmic shit that involved all of humanity. Mark just wanted to spend time with his wife and stab bad things on occasion. Is that really so much to ask for in this post-apocalyptic world?

“Okay, so where are they now?” Mark asked, bottling up the frustration that bubbled in his mind.

“Outside the front gates. I didn’t wish to make any decisions in your stead as you’re acting leader right now.” Sindra answered.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but diplomatically speaking, isn’t leaving a peace delegation at the front gates for an extended period time considered to be extremely rude?” Mark asked, feeling his stomach turn with the corn whiskey, steak, and fries in it.

“Incredibly rude, yes.” Sindra confirmed with a nod of her head.

“Fuckkk.” Mark groaned, as a headache sprang forth and his stomach decided it was now on a rollercoaster. “Well, go let them in I guess. Apologize, explain the situation, and get them settled. I guess we’ll go talk with them when they’re rested or something.” He finished, thinking out loud.

“Both races are relatively nocturnal, and I believe they came here during the day as a courtesy to your people. Perhaps you can turn the situation around by meeting with them during the night as a sign of courtesy to their people.” Sindra suggested.

“Fine, that’ll work. Thank you for the suggestion Sindra, I’ll go find my wife and let her know.” He replied, standing up from his chair. He took a long look back at the chair he was leaving behind, wishing he had relaxed longer.

Drew, you better get your ass back here soon, I hate this fucking job dude.