Jacob’s new vision, incredible as it was, took a toll. The longer he used it, the more his mind was strained, like a cramping inside his skull, and the edge of his senses gradually blurred. He felt dirty, as though he were bathing in scummy stagnant water. There was a stench of rot and a clinging wetness across his whole body and inside his mouth that made his skin crawl.
He ignored these effects at first, unwilling to let go of his enhanced awareness, but once the simple act of breathing became an agonizing act of sucking down sewage fumes, and he vomited twice from the overwhelming filth, he was forced to accept the lesser existence as necessary in some capacity.
He wasn’t able to block out the death sense entirely, but it receded into the back of his mind when he stopped actively focusing on it. He removed the blindfold and, through a great effort of will, reacclimated himself to the dim vision of his eyes. The other sense still waited there at the edge of his perception, a nagging temptation waiting to be used.
When he returned to the lower-resolution state of being, he found himself sitting on the floor of a room, his room, facing a wall only half a meter from his face. He stood, blinking, and turned to find Tarim at the other end of the room leaned against Fenris, watching him with unchecked worry over some video playing on his System node.
“That was… very strange,” Jacob said. He took a step, and was forced to readjust his balance as his sense of space had drastically changed, becoming more limited. “I think I lost some time.”
“Are you back to normal?” Tarim asked, slowly sitting up.
The taste of death lingered on his tongue, under his fingernails, at the corners of his eyes. He wanted a shower, but already knew it wouldn’t help. This wasn’t the kind of grime you could get out.
“I think so. Why? Was I acting strange?”
“Uh, yeah, understatement of the century. Like, actual straitjacket vibes.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”
“Luckily, no. But this new aspect is scary. You should probably be careful with it.”
“Noted.”
Jacob sat down on his bed for a bit, cradling his head. Exhausted, but in his mind rather than his body. His face pounded with heat, and thin needles poked at his brain.
“You still have level-up rewards,” Tarim said helpfully.
“I know, kid,” Jacob replied, voice muffled through his hands. “I know. Just… give me a minute.”
Once he’d collected himself, he sent Tarim to fetch water and allowed Fenris to come over and mess up his whole face with drool. He’d been worried too, apparently.
After a glass of water and half an hour to recoup, he felt well enough to look into his other rewards. He bristled at the prospect of his body needing to accommodate even more changes, but it was already well into the night, so there wasn’t much time before they’d have to leave. He sent Tarim to bed and started the process.
The two attribute rewards were conveniently bundled together, reducing excessive menuing.
[PLEASE ALLOCATE 4 POINTS AMONG ANY OF THE FOLLOWING ATTRIBUTES]
Vigor (4)
Finesse (4)
Senses (0)
Mind (0)
Intuition (2)
Appeal (0)
Jacob figured he was almost at the limit of the amount of Finesse he would need, especially with the talent he had in mind. On the other hand, Vigor was a priority considering his complete inability to even scratch Starman in their previous engagement.
He considered putting a point into Intuition, but decided that Vigor was too vital at the moment. He put three points there and one point into Finesse. Before finalizing, so that he’d have something to compare against afterwards, he punched the nearest wall at full strength, producing a radiating web of cracks in the hardened material.
After that he was ready.
Vigor (7)
Finesse (5)
Senses (0)
Mind (0)
Intuition (2)
Appeal (0)
[ARE YOU SATISFIED WITH YOUR SELECTION?]
[Y/N]
Yes.
[INTEGRATING CHANGES WITH PHYSICAL MATRIX]
…
…
…
…
…
The transformation was wholly unpleasant, but thankfully less intense than the aspect had been. His muscles swelled with new power, his skin pulled tight, and there was a sensation like his bones were put under strain by his own strength. He felt bulky. For the first time since his brush with starvation, he had the problem of his clothes being too small.
He did some light stretching to get used to the changes and take the stresses out of his muscles. He struck the wall about two meters from the compromised spot he had left. The wall shook under his fist, and chunks of it flew in all directions. Rather than cracks, he’d left a crater.
I’d call that a success.
With that squared away, there was only one reward left to assign.
[CHOOSE A TALENT FROM THE FOLLOWING LIST]
[EXPAND THIRD TIER]
[EXPAND SECOND TIER]
[EXPAND FIRST TIER]
After reaching Level 5, he now had access to the second tier of talents. He had been planning to pick a third tier talent anyway, Danger Sense, since it was one of the best talents for a close-range fighter such as himself and one of the better reasons to build into Operative in the first place. But with the Aspect of Sensing seemingly making that talent obsolete, or at least drastically diminishing its utility, Jacob had one in mind from the second tier.
[SHOCK ABSORPTION]
Operative class talent
Passive
Second tier
Your joints are able to subtly compress under load, storing kinetic energy which is then released to provide additional push-off strength. Increases joint durability.
It would work perfectly with Dash, providing extra thrust when used correctly and decreasing the joint strain caused by Dash, allowing him to use it more times in succession. The only other option he seriously considered was Identify from the second tier, allowing a User to automatically see the class and level of any other User in their line of sight. A useful information-gathering tool, especially to quickly get a read on unfamiliar opponents, but it would not provide any utility for the upcoming battle, so he decided he could always pick it later.
He selected Shock Absorption.
The transformation was less stressful than either of the previous ones. Once it was complete, he bounced up and down a few times to gauge if there was any appreciable difference. It was subtle, but he felt an increased fluidity and ease to his movements. Less subtly, he was able to jump significantly higher, over a meter high straight jump without really putting much effort into it. He would have tested it with Dash, but he didn’t want to put any extra stress on his body so soon before the battle, just in case.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
It was past midnight at that point, so he forced himself to lie down, even though he wasn’t sleepy at all. In the dark room, without any other stimuli to keep his attention other than Fenris’s slow, steady breathing, Jacob found his mind wandering. His new sense was right there, asking him to use it, promising it would show him everything he’d never known he wanted to see.
Ignoring it demanded such an effort that sleep became an impossibility. The lingering taste of sewage down his throat certainly didn’t help. To occupy himself, he got out the Deady Bear and began to fiddle with it, turning the ragged toy around in his hands and squeezing its various parts to try and discern its function and activation method.
When he touched the red plastic four-hole button on its round belly, it swiftly folded into itself, sucked into a central point like water down a drain until only the button remained, clattering to the floor. Jacob picked it up, about the size of a coin in his palm.
Nifty.
He drifted off for maybe an hour at some point during the night before his System node screamed at him that it was time to rise.
There was no time to shower or brush his teeth. It seemed unimportant, everything considered. No breakfast, either—it would only bog him down. He took Fenris and went straight to the vehicle bay adjoining an alternate exit to the surface. About half of the heroes were already present, and gear was being loaded into eight lightly reinforced humvees and two trucks.
Excelerate and Dr. Drakemyth had arrived at some point during the night, and neither of them were difficult to pick out of the crowd.
Excelerate was clothed all in gray, with golden bells hanging from his sleeves. Long black hair framed a hawkish face. He stood tall; silent and watchful. His outfit was torn and bloodied, and his nose had recently been broken and reset, but his bearing was proud despite his injuries, bordering on imperious.
Dr. Drakemyth, on the other hand, was a shrunken, almost diminutive man, his bow-backed posture further hampering his stature. His eyes were hidden beneath huge white brows, and only a light puff of white hair remained on the top of his liver-spotted head. He oversaw the moving of a multitude of large boxes onto the back of a truck. His ‘toys’, presumably. There was one huge metal crate, a cube with roughly two meter sides, which had yet to be loaded up.
The rest of the heroes arrived in short order, along with the support workers who would accompany them and the two directors. Thatch had Tarim by his side. This time, he had not delegated the responsibility of reigning the boy in to someone else.
To Jacob’s great annoyance, he saw Towman in the crowd. Shoving past people to reach the B-Rank, he wrapped a hand around the man’s upper arm and, affecting an easy tone, asked: “What happened to hiding?”
Towman chuckled nervously. “Well, with everything that happened, the System coming back and Paragon getting her new aspect and even Drakemyth being here, I thought maybe there’s a chance for us to win after all. I don’t want to, but… I also don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I ran away.”
So not the fucking time for a moral awakening.
“I think there’s still time for you to hide if you leave now.”
Towman glanced towards the exit and licked his lips in a way that reminded Jacob of a toad. “No. It’s okay, really! I want to do this.” His expression was not as confident as his words, but he had clearly made up his mind.
There wasn’t much Jacob could do about it, not here, so he let the man go and stalked away, cursing under his breath. Cursed the universe for the existence of brave cowards.
He went over to Tarim and took the boy by the shoulder. “Change of plans, kid. If I don’t come back, go to Thatch. He’ll figure something out.”
Tarim looked up at the director by his side, who smiled and nodded in a reasonable attempt at faking self-assurance.
“Remember, you promised,” Tarim said.
“I know. I’ll be back.”
“Good. Then I don’t need to say goodbye.”
Jacob grinned. “Sure. Just a bit of light demon slaying, right?”
“Right.”
Paragon was the last to arrive, clad in a simple robe with great sleeves that concealed her missing arm to some extent. Tired, but wearing it well. Maybe even a touch of makeup to sell an illusion of health.
She was accompanied by her hulking bodyguard, Prismatic, who was entirely hairless like a thune, with crystalline skin that sparkled blue and pink and purple. He wore only a pair of tight shorts; the rest of his body was bare, including his feet. His expression was happy as a funeral. His scowl was so flawlessly menacing that Jacob thought he must have practiced it in private.
Not many realized that the U-Rank walked among them until she walked out onto an empty part of the room beyond the busy throng, facing them, and Prismatic loudly called for their attention.
It took another minute for complete silence to fall over the vehicle bay. Support workers halted in their tasks to listen.
Paragon cleared her throat. “I will only take a minute of your time. I realize many of you might not know me. I am Paragon.” Her voice held authority and calm, and she wasn’t wearing her glasses, making her appear less bookish. Still plain, as heroes went, but less unbelievable in the role.
It was only when the golden crown materialized in the air above her head; a blazing wheel and angelic halo in one, and her eyes began to luminesce like white-hot metal, that she really looked the part. Jacob could no longer visualize the frail, used-up woman he had met that one night. He could only see the luminous patron saint of all humanity, boundless power in bounded mortal form. Her feet alighted from the floor, and she hovered into the air so that they all craned their necks to look up at her.
“Stand tall, heroes,” she said. “Today you will be humanity’s burning vengeance. Today we smite a hole in the very essence of evil that will never recover. Today we make war so that others may know peace. And whether you live or die, your memory will be eternalized as one of the brave few. One of Earth’s last defenders. Have pride, and take heart. This is the culmination of all your efforts and the convergence of all destinies. Today, we are of one purpose, voices and minds unified. Let the unclean ones flee and strike themselves dead in fear of our righteous fury. Let the future children of mankind tell stories of this day and aspire to our example.
“That is all. Now we go to our war.”
Paragon returned to the ground and the light about her was suddenly snuffed out, along with the spell she had cast over the room. The mousy librarian was back. And Jacob could not help but notice that she was leaning on Prismatic’s arm for support.
*****
Jacob was in a humvee with Magpie, the Concordian, and Starman—because of course Starman had managed to squeeze his way in, and of course he refused to shut up as well. The Concordian was driving.
To his surprise, Dr. Drakemyth was actually accompanying them himself, despite his advanced age and the fact that he was supposedly not even a User. He rode in the same vehicle as Paragon a few spots ahead in the convoy.
The Trodvis clan, armored up to the teeth in heavy steel, were seated in the back of one of the trucks. Fenris ran alongside the convoy, and had no trouble keeping up.
The roads were broken and made treacherous by a thick blanket of ash, but the vehicles handled well in the rough terrain. Not many stray demons crossed their path, but the few that did were either torn to pieces by Fenris or sniped by armed drones of Drakemyth’s design that issued forth from the back of his truck of toys.
It was a bumpy ride with a dreary view, but smooth and pleasurable compared to the thought of what lay ahead. Jacob wondered idly if Towman was regretting his decision to come along yet.
“If you survive this, where are you headed?” Jacob asked, looking over at Magpie.
“Wherever fate takes me, I guess,” the villain replied, face buried in a fold of his cloak.”
“That’s pretty vague.”
“That’s because I don’t know where I’m going yet. You’re not the only one looking for someone, Hanged Man.”
“I see. Someone important to you?”
“Yes. I should have realized that sooner, but yes.”
“We talking tragic backstories?” Starman asked, leaning back over the passenger seat. “Wanna hear mine?”
“Nope,” Jacob said.
He started talking anyway, so Jacob just blocked it out. Something about his parents being evil and bla bla bla.
They traveled for over three hours, but it felt like thirty minutes. Reality was coming at him fast.
Suddenly, it was time. The convoy stopped, vehicles arrayed in a half-circle, and everyone piled out. They stood at the edge of a great barren field that extended far, far around them, almost perfectly circular. The hills and low mountains that surrounded the field, some cut in half where they intersected with it, made the whole thing appear bizarre and otherworldly, like a god had taken a stamp to the landscape and crushed it down.
At the center of the field, way in the distance, loomed a white fortress, with myriad sharp spires that rose like the teeth of a predator. The fortress stood taller than any of the visible mountains by a wide margin. Black clouds tickled its peaks, and tiny pinpricks—that he might have assumed were birds if he didn’t know better—circled about its slanted roofs. It was larger than any man made-structure Jacob had ever heard of, barring perhaps the walking cities of Mars.
“Preliminary scans suggest it’s constructed from calcified human remains,” Drakemyth mused with only mild curiosity in his voice. He cracked his turkey neck one way, then the other, hands clasped behind his crooked back.
Just above the fortress, a black star gazed down at them. A fledgling black hole, except not quite. It was a pulsing void, an empty point in space that sucked in all the reality around it, or maybe let reality leak out through it like a hole in a water balloon. After looking at it, a dark blotch lingered in Jacob’s vision, as though it had eaten a piece of his very perception.
That has to be the portal Akor-Goram is trying to finish.
“Well, this is ominous,” Magpie said.
“No shit,” Jacob replied.
Considering how empty the place was, he hoped they weren’t late to the party.
The heroes spread out at Steelfeather’s command to make themselves harder targets for potential long-range attacks. Dr. Drakemyth had Titaness and White Wolf unload his many boxes onto the black earth. His armed drones hovered around him in a tight formation, and their buzzing was the sound that dominated the silent vastness aside from a whistling wind.
The doctor approached his great cube and typed in a flurry of commands on his interface. The cube unfolded, hundreds of pieces sliding about each other. It enveloped the old man, raised him into the air, formed a great steel colossus with Drakemyth as the head. It stood as tall as Titaness, maybe slightly shorter. Its chassis gleamed silver and blue light shone through from the internals. Finally, a visor encased his head, and its single horizontal vision slit alighted most brightly of all.
“Fuck yeah!” someone shouted.
A mech suit. I guess that’s what I’d build too, if I were a genius inventor.
The smaller boxes unfolded into humanoid, skeletal combots wielding precision rifles, twelve of them added to the ten drones.
“I’ve never actually gotten to test this thing,” Drakemyth said, his voice amplified by speakers inside the mech. “This should prove a perfect opportunity for data-gathering.”
Data, yeah. That’s what I’m worried about, too.
Paragon stepped forward from the uneven line of heroes and floated into the air alongside Prismatic, towards the fortress. Paragon went higher and higher, hundreds of meters up. She was engulfed in fire and light, the vague outline of a woman within a radiant white sphere. If the black point above the fortress was a leak in reality, Paragon was its opposite. Pure energy. Pure potential.
A focused beam—likely several meters thick—shot out of the sphere faster than Jacob could blink, and the black clouds were tinged with gold by its light. The beam struck the white fortress and melted straight through it. Paragon swung the beam wide, like a blade, and allowed it to dissipate at the end of the stroke. A whole section of spires and battlements began to tumble down, sliced clean. The amount of time it took them to crash to the ground only illustrated even clearer the inhuman scale of the fortress.
There was a great clamor and rumbling of falling architecture. Then, after maybe half a minute, everything had settled to the ground with billowing plumes of dust that rose about the walls, and the field became silent again.
Silence. Paragon waited. So did everyone else.
Then a sea of twisted, hateful bodies surged from the broken section of the fortress like ants from a disturbed anthill, a greenish brown tidal wave that quickly swallowed the white.
Above them all rose a single ghastly-pale shape, outlined sharply against the perfect blackness of the portal behind it. It wasn’t very large, maybe not even much larger than an average human, but Jacob felt its malice as a physical, smothering weight. Its presence dwarfed everything inside that field. Even Paragon’s light seemed to wane, attacked on all sides by a cold, creeping dread.
Akor-Goram. Father of Flesh.
While his armies poured across the black plain, he emitted a high-pitched, glass-shattering scream. It echoed and reverberated across the flat ground, seeming only to grow in strength, and it rang Jacob’s head like a bell, producing a loud squealing in his ears.
His legs gave way and he fell to his knees, as did several of the other heroes. Though there were no words in that utterance, its meaning could not have been clearer.
Flee.