We made good time, mostly because we pushed the pace and abandoned laziness in favor of speed, which compensated for our forced breaks at nighttime. It took us two days to reach our destination, roughly the location of my emergence from the bamboo thicket. The bubble layer didn’t seem much thicker at least. There might’ve been more bubbleleaf-trees than before but it was hard to say for certain. Three trees were visible from our staging ground and it seemed appropriate to catalogue them with a note, written down on a wrapper.
Along the way we’d invested a little in one of our new wage slaves, a power fighter by the name of Jill with long straight red hair and rolling acne scars on her cheeks. She was a Dutchie like me and her duties involved gaining levels on the way here, the path was still navigable without running into vinesnap-traps but getting her stats up would help us on the return trip. She’d fallen behind after realizing anyone she’d been close to was most likely lost to her. Not entirely uncommon.
I’d always been a little self-centered and not very close to my remaining family to begin with, but my carefree attitude probably resulted from my trek through the wilderness – it didn’t seem likely they’d survive a similar experience. Moreover, the population of our little village was almost completely random and yet not what you’d expect from a random distribution, all of which brought forth the conclusion that we had no clue where to even look to find someone.
Our other accomplice had a different problem. He was a Finnish priest, an enhancer, and true to the stereotype - depressed. Not because of any particular disposition, but he blamed himself for a mishap which got his initial party killed. Unwilling to continue fighting, he hadn’t been lucky enough to land a non-combat role, mostly because Mel prioritized people with ambition. His name was Walter, but with a V at the start, an extra t in the middle and an i at the end - so Valtteri. But much like how Breathless had a real name, I cared not.
Jill planned to patrol the area opportunistically while Walter did Walter things or helped Barry with Barry things. B. was likely to requisition Jill at some point. Of course that could only happen after the hard part, well, it was mostly the tedious part. We assembled our planks into a makeshift watchtower and used the elevation to find the stairwell clearing. Then we made a safety contraption, something inspired by a siege ram without the ram, and shoved it through the overgrowth to clear a way. Finally, we put our minions to work reinforcing the path with makeshift bamboo, all the way to the downward spiral. Barry and Walt planned to spend their time searching for magic bamboo and building paths towards the stalky goodness. Meanwhile, I’d descend and stockpile bonemetal plates, both to expand my shieldsword and wallet.
Figured we’d make a killing considering the ever-present metal shortage and Barry was helpfully bankrolling the operation, even better because he allowed me to freeload. Dude was rich, other alchemists focused on staving off starvation but he had other ideas. He cleverly snatched different ingredients, like tomatoes and pickles, from the ever-present cheeseburgers and grew them out. It wasn’t quite as efficient as cultivating grain from the buns, but fetched far fairer prices. The growth stones played a big part in snowballing his particular flavor of market exploitation.
We made it to the clearing rather quickly compared to my original solo-trek. I waved my companions goodbye. “Alright then, I’m off. Have fun with all the bamboo.”
Barry was already distracted by his search for magical tubing. “Hope ya make a killin’ down there.”
Jill chimed in too. “Be careful down there, alright?”
For some reason, she gave me the distinct impression her words were forced rather than genuine. “I will, thanks.”
Walt followed up with a muted “Good luck” and we parted ways.
I was fairly curious about how things would go, it was hard to get a good idea on the exact differences with my pre-Godstrike self. The omnipresent nature of superpowers made evaluations harder, my running speed and reflexes were probably off the charts yet didn’t feel particularly different compared to before. Fighting armored daggerclaws served as the real test since all my recent experience was against snakedrop-rocks and they weren’t particularly challenging to begin with. Aside from the intimidation factor, about ten levels gained hunting them completely trivialized the Errant.
My last, albeit successful, attempt at navigating the Underway here pushed me to my limits and left me worn down, exhausted and injured – a close call, all in all. Still, improved stats and better equipment inspired confidence about facing off against the feline Errant. The constant spiral ended. My options were to go south, east or north. South likely led to another automated assault corridor and my vandalism remained, prompting me to head north.
No AD’s crossed my path during the first hour underground. A cautious man might have paid attention and considered that suspicious, but my overconfidence blindsided me. Shoulda, woulda, coulda - fucking didn’t.
Muted paw taps replaced my echoing footsteps, originating ahead and behind, causing me to put my back against the wall while glancing both ways, frozen. It was fortunate the hallways weren’t big enough for them to charge me all at once, or I’d be dead. Despite a slight expansion to the ten-meter range before shadows obscured my vision, the procession stretched into darkness and their total numbers remained unknown. They didn’t attack immediately, instead positioning themselves in a careful line which left me stuck between likely continuous waves of murder-cats.
My thoughts raced, increasing anxiety reached a crescendo and then peaked into stillness. My armory consisted of seven magical swords and one shieldsword. Action overwrote everything, a panicked bolt towards an earlier T-split proved to be a mistake two steps in. Shit. That couldn’t work out and my sudden movement signaled the starting shot, accompanied by a chorus of claws tearing into grey stone. Fight, you idiot.
A cracked sword appeared at the tip of my outstretched arm – hopefully the damage wouldn’t matter. It flashed forward, powered by 25 energy. I flinched when a clamor akin to shearing metal drowned out the clawing steps.
The fivefold launch wreaked a penetrating line of carnage, leaving a shroud of smoky black blood in its wake. Glorious results were left unexamined. I shot another blade straight down into the stone floor, recalled it, pulled out my shieldsword and slammed it down as a barrier, firmly anchored by the fresh hole. Then I turned around. A glance showed the vanguard had crumbled, but more came up from behind them, advancing carefully.
A mad dash closed the distance between me and the untouched half of the ambush. A violent rush of air marked the rapid pace of my acceleration - the killer-kittens ahead barely had time to brace before I was upon them. Another streak of destruction followed a second twenty-fiver through the conga line. My sprint continued onwards, only marginally slowed by a brushing touch of my quiver to refill my sheath with three more blades.
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The remaining half dozen couldn’t respond quickly enough to my maneuvers, which took me past this side of the trap. A few hurried swipes threatened to land while I bounced from wall to wall, deflected by armor-plated forearms without disrupting my balance. A step, a jump and a twist helped me retain speed and survey the situation. My opening salvo had done impressive work, my barrier had faded into the dark, daggerclaws clumsily tried to turn around.
My feet hit the ground and carried momentum turned into a crouched backwards skid. Adrenaline worked my brain to the bone and rushing blood pounded in my ears.
The majority of side passages went nowhere. The ambush seemed planned and my only avenue of escape was to the south, northern stairs were half a day away. I was down 55 energy, had about 50 in the bank and 40c as backup. Finally clarity shone through. There couldn’t be that many. The initial exchanges took out a good chunk already and I could easily kill fifteen more. Easily?
Both groups merged and the front daggerclaw already sent rocky chips flying, about to leap, yet I stood there doing nothing, too occupied by my old instincts fighting the new.
I wanted to stand my ground… I wanted to run… I wanted to stand my ground… I wanted to run... This needed to stop.
The daggerclaw soared towards me in slow motion. It was going high, so I rolled low, passing it by. The quiver bumped me - unsuited for tumbling. There were two more ready ahead, I launched a sword straight through the first, and it ended up embedded in the second. A metallic clang confirmed that my next, hasty blind shot impaled its target, fired on instinct at the fucker behind me once I heard it hit the floor.
My foot landed on the impaled Errant in front of me, bent knee straining to arrest my dash while a flick of my arm sheathed the sword. Two more daggerclaws received a session of aggravated acupuncture and I kicked off, then furiously backstepped, even jumping over the collapsed Errant, timed on pure, overwhelming instinct, and recovered another sword in the process.
Suddenly, they didn’t seem so threatening anymore. Something within clicked into place. I began simply walking forward with my hands in my pockets, no longer gesturing like an idiot except to recover a sword and dissipate carcasses obstructing my path.
The formation was thoroughly shattered and angry cats struggled hopelessly against raw statistical superiority. Summary execution answered every attempted brace. I lit up my pipe. A litter of corpses sprang from my casual walk and multi-kill death blossomed like it was the most normal thing in the world until no more prey remained, finally snapping me out of the ruthless haze. What the fuck was that?
Another 45 energy had gone down the drain. I recovered all my remaining weapons, then gathered the bonemetal plates and looted the few untouched dead, to an astonishing total of 27 plates. A return to the staircase felt prudent, my carry-on luggage was there and the spoils needed stashing.
Once the stairs appeared out of the ever-present shadows, my mind replayed what happened. I could do better. I spared a forlorn look towards the hallways before ascending and spared a single moment of grief for the person who I used to be.
It was something deeply personal. I’d always felt a strong sense of connection to my own nature, this unrepentant feeling of who I was and wanted to be, never in doubt for as long as my memory stretched – I was happy to mask it, but never to betray it.
Probably nothing special, but it was an anchor to my entire being and thoroughly upended, cast away. I often dwelled on this since the beginning of the end, but it took me until that moment in the hallway, caught in a pincer attack, for my new reality to reconcile with my nature. Thinking it through solidified the feeling, incorporating a new, vicious aspect into my nature. Yet the feeling faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, resulting in a deep sense of dissonance. Probably all the trauma.
Daylight greeted me upon exit, the freshness of the gentle breeze suffused my being while all the colors of the outside felt more vibrant than ever. My search for the others suffered several false starts which led to dead-ends, until I spotted Barry in the distance, boosted by Jill. Her arms extended upwards and he stood on her palms, held by what must be a vice-like grip forcing stability. Those were the advantages of a pure class, having gotten such impressive results so quickly. I approached.
Barry was the first to speak. “The fuck ya doin’ back already?”
I didn’t think it likely, but it was necessary. “Hey Barry, did anyone have a chance to split off and trigger the swarm mode while I was down?”
His expression hardened and he scratched his temple before speaking. “Nah, no way, what happened?”
I let go of the forty in the palm of my pocketed hand and explained what happened. Our merry band stopped to listen. “…at least I got a good haul out of it. Need to regenerate a little before going down again, I’m nearly out.”
Walt was thinking out loud. “Swarm doesn’t make sense. They would come as ones, not full. Maybe it happened before our arrival?”
Jill considered it unlikely “Who? And wouldn’t we have noticed? No sign of anyone having been here and the old path was visible but overgrown, not to mention flooded.”
“Doesn’t explain the ambush either, if they’d scattered from the entrance then I’d have expected about three quarters to come from that direction but the groups were close to evenly sized. There’s more that doesn’t add up. I’ve only seen fives down there, but they were solitary before.” Silence punctuated my statement.
Ones didn’t stop appearing just because. Even though Errant tended to keep close to their spawning area, theories abounded about what would happen if a zone was left alone for too long. Nothing good, surprise, surprise.
“Well, I’ll think a bit more on it. Pretty sure I’ve already been through the worst of it.”
The rest went back to work clearing stalks, yet Barry procrastinated. “Think ya ought’a leave it at this and stay up? Return’s already good and danger’s high.”
The plan sounded wonderful. A day ago I would’ve agreed wholeheartedly. “Think I’ll head down tomorrow for a quick check and make another full blown attempt the day after.”
“Scout ‘n’ smash? Hate to say it, but I agree with ya that it needs doin’. How much ya carryin’ for a refill?”
“Forty.”
He fished around in his wallet, a greenish leather bag with some black-green string of unwound ropevine around the neck. He hesitated for a moment before getting a certain look in his eyes again. “Ya know, if ya figure somethin’ out down there we can probably get Mel to pay up. She ain’t above rewardin’ endeavors, long as it’s useful.”
Barry had a point. The nerds were basically on payroll with a budget to boot for exploring how things worked nowadays. “Man, I’ve walked through a lot of tunnel and never seen anything interesting down there before this. Thinking I should try to map the place out?”
He handed me 160 crystal. “Might be worth the effort, might not. Least ya won’t be caught out. My gut feelin’ says somethin’ ain’t right.”
“Thanks, maybe. Worst case I’ll end up clearing the place. Well, got to get the spoils to camp.”
We split off, each on our own business. The hunt for magic needles in the proverbial haystack went surprisingly well, but it was definitely a two-man-and-one-woman job.
An uneventful hike back towards the camp left me with little to do, at least the adrenaline fueled frenzy of a fight tucked away my increasing unease, for now. That allowed me to focus again, until boredom overpowered dedication after ten hours of scribbling away at my practice plate. The crews return coincided with deepening dusk and we settled down silently for the night after a shared dinner, everyone was too tired to break the oppressive atmosphere of unwanted developments and their implications hanging over us.
My enhanced circadian rhythm resisted sleep, which led to another round of stargazing. I really needed to quit the habit. It was bad for my blood pressure.
I stared at negative space. Stars winked out in a cluster, then reappeared. This went on for a bit. Odd, but hopefully nothing to be worried about. Spectacular starfall interrupted my scanning of the sky, a crooked circle of a dozen or more white streaks entered atmosphere, fading trails still high up in the air. Memories of the Godstrike stilled my world. Their trajectory resisted tracking beyond the pattern – but maybe north? One stripe of white in particular looked like it headed towards somewhere near my starting area. The strikes definitely made landfall, yet no plane of radiance, no tremor, no shockwave of incinerating flame followed. The System had our back from the looks of it. A short nap before dawn cleared my mind and provided some much needed refreshment.
Time for round two.