Chapter 45 - Turret Mage
The entire city howled.
It wasn’t just in my immediate area, though the distinctive, mindless scream of the scourge-touched did come through clearest from the creatures I could see nearby. No, this was everywhere. It was like a demonic choir conductor had just swiped his baton. Every creature in every part of the city contributed to the chord, perfectly in sync in baying for my blood.
I fought to not let the unease I was feeling show.
This wasn’t quite what I expected. I’d expected the howling, maybe a chain of them starting from ground zero where I was and making its way outward and around the city eventually, but this…
The scourge-touched all had their fit at exactly the same time.
It hit me. That’s why I’d never seen them communicate.
A hive mind? Maybe something like it?
If that was the case, I’d just given every scourge-touched in the city(maybe the world) my exact position. I’d counted on getting a lot of attention but I’d hoped the horde of flesh eating monsters would at least have to ask for directions before they got here.
I stepped back from the marble lip and walked into the middle of my triangular turret perimeter, my sword clenched tightly in my hand.
Well, the idea was to create a distraction. Hurray.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Soon enough, claws raked across the metal storm doors of the stairwell. A single scourge-touched wasn't going to get those open, though. I’d Shape welded them shut in multiple places, even freezing the hinges.
The murderous bastards would have to come up the fun way if they wanted to make my face into a loincloth.
My first lucky customer on this fine gray morning was a scourge-touched goblin who’d elected to climb the building’s facade instead of taking the stairs. Sharp, grasping claws preceded a midnight black, leering face with owlish eyes and a demonic grin as it pulled itself up into view, eager to be the first to take a bite out of this world’s only human.
It was barely able to get its shoulders above the lip of my roof before-
*BRRAP*
Scourge Touched Goblin defeated.
You have been awarded 20 experience points. [10 base (-4 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)]
For being the first, it was rewarded with a quick death. The turret on my left tracked almost too quickly for the naked eye and put two, maybe three rounds into the monster’s face. Then said face was gone as quickly as it had appeared. If not for the leftover chunks of skull still sailing backward in sedate parabolas down into Spire square, I might have thought I’d imagined the whole thing.
Then they came in in little fits and starts. Two or three creatures (not always goblins, but they were the most prevalent) would climb up the sides of the roof at the same time only to be cut down in a hail of gunfire.
*BRAP* BRAP*
The targeting on the turrets was flawless, if I do say so myself. With actual rifling on the inside of their barrels and properly shaped projectiles, their accuracy was a thing to behold. Nothing survived the first volley, and sometimes a burst of fire would take out two or three targets at once. The monsters skittered forward and were cut down within seconds, their bodies becoming new obstacles for their comrades to overcome.
Meanwhile, the doors to the stairwell were quickly becoming popular. They groaned under the pressure of the growing number of bodies pressing against them all at once. Claws raked over their insides and powerful blows rained down on wherever the creatures could reach. I was under no illusions that the doors could hold forever, though. In minutes I’d probably have lots of company.
The experience points were flowing in too quickly to keep track, the group and chain bonuses to experience already at their max. Individually, these monsters were worth a pittance, but together, as a horde, they were going to put me through Exotic college, if that was a thing.
Not all of the messages were coming from my rooftop either. The gunfire on the wind had ceased to be discernible as separate emplacements at separate locations finding and engaging targets. Judging by the sound, it was a storm of lead over there across town. I silently hoped my people were doing alright.
The relative calm on my end didn’t last. I was busy supervising my turrets as they cut down the trickle of climbers and watching the experience notifications roll in when the turret directly behind me, the hitherto silent one that was supposed to cover the stairwell doors, let loose with a long peel of thunder.
I whipped my head around. Somehow, the creatures had found a way onto the roof that wasn’t within the turret’s line of fire. They’d come up behind the boxy stairwell doors, using them as cover to gather and build up sufficient numbers for a charge.
By the time I was aware of the problem, the turret had already cut down a handful of them, its withering fire reducing their bodies to mewling, broken piles of flesh and bone, but there were still five able-bodied Black Ones left, coming on at full speed.
My turret laid the hate, raking its fire across the line of them, center mass or some approximation of it. Two of them went down with multiple holes in their sternum and a third caught an unlucky round on the crown of its skull, splitting it open while the creature tumbled forward to dash what was left of its brain on the dusty marble of the roof.
The other two took to the air, doing that grasshopper jump thing that almost ended me on my first day as an Exotic. They sailed over the turret as their comrades died, already past where the gun was programmed to track.
I didn’t really have time to think. Before they had a chance to land, I found myself rushing forward to meet them, a silent warcry on my lips. The tip of my sword took the first goblin right above the collar bone, sliding inside with a nearly inaudible *pop* as the blade broke the skin.
There was absolutely no resistance. I’d made the edge sharp at the molecular level. The sword entered the creature at a near vertical angle, going down through the soft flesh and into the lungs. The creature’s momentum dragged my blade down, but Dad had taught me well. I flexed at the knees and sprung back to disengage, my weapon retracting before the goblin’s body weight could bind the blade up.
On instinct, I brought my sword around in a quick slash to counter the attack I suspected was coming from my left, and the Black One that had just been about to cut my hamstring lost two fingers. It reeled back, not out of fear or pain but to tense its legs and go for another jump.
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I advanced before it could set itself, however, reaching in with my left hand, my prosthetic, and wrapping my fingers around the thing’s face so that when its legs finally received the proper nerve signals to make the jump, all they did was push my stupidly heavy, enhanced body back an inch or so. I saw its black eyes widen through my metal fingers. Its feet kicked at me, and its claws dug into the sleeve of my armor.
Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec]
Status Gained: Engine: [+2 MP/sec for 5 min]
You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Bone [19/50]
I let the ruined monster drop to my feet, feeling a cold wash of adrenaline now that I allowed myself that luxury. My grip on the sword was shaky once more.
Skill unlocked: Sword.
Your current skill level is 1.
The three turrets around me were tracking targets every couple seconds now. Packs of snarling faces would pop up from the lip of the roof, some attempting to sprint toward my position, some electing to leap as their more successful fellows had. Not many of them made the trip intact, but they were making it.
So many.
And this was just the beginning.
I was already seeing spots, and my heart was going a mile a minute. I had to force myself to move, force my legs to take me where I needed to go. The sword knew what it was about, though. Those scourge-touched that ended up inside my perimeter, died as quickly as I could reach them.
Their fault for not bringing their own swords, really.
You are now level 12.
Max HP +10
Max MP +10
+1 attribute point.
Achievements awarded this level:
S-
I killed the combat log. I didn’t have time to read them. There was too much going on, too much at stake.
The three turrets barked.
*BRRRRRRAP* *BRAP* *BRAP*
The scourge-touched never stopped. They died by the dozens, but not all of them charged in mindlessly.
Clumps of them were forming on the lip of the roof now, hanging from the side with their sharp claws, peaking over their cover from time to time to tempt the turrets. The targeting logic wasn’t handling that particularly well.
*BRRRRRRRRRAP*
Chunks of marble spun off into the morning air as the turrets tried to engage with all they saw but maybe one in three bullets found flesh.
The Black Ones were adapting. They weren’t just coming straight on anymore. They were clumping up and getting ready for a charge.
They were starting to think.
No. We can’t have that.
I sheathed my sword and summoned a nicely shaped throwing rock from my spatial storage.
Volatility [1 MP/sec]
One. Two. Three. Four. Five…
I’d need to time this-
That’s when doors to the stairwell finally failed, not at the welds like I’d expected. The hinges gave way with sharp, individual cracks that sent dust pluming out into the air. Then the doors blew off their hinges and slammed onto the marble floor with a muffled *clang.*
Snarling, pale Returned bodies spilled out from the now open doorway, while more of them bubbled up from underneath, shoving their way into the open through a sea of flesh.
They’d been stacked like cordwood in there.
Just as the Returned contingent joined the fight, the goblins made their move as if they’d planned it this way. With their long, powerful arms and muscular legs they sprung up from their perches on the roof’s lip, and, suddenly, I was facing a towering wave of howling monsters.
The turrets opened up on full blast. Sound lost all meaning for me. My world was the ceaseless peel-crack of the guns. The air shook with the violence of it.
I hadn’t counted on this. I didn’t expect them to change tactics. I was going to need my sword, but here I was holding an exploding purple rock.
After a short, preparatory roll of my shoulder, I chucked said rock into the roiling cauldron of undead things, as far into the stairwell as I could.
*BOOM*
Bright purple flashed from within, the walls that once housed the doors cracked and then buckled as what my explosion started, the weight of the Returned’s bodies finished, and the stairwell housing collapsed like a tiny building undergoing demolition.
I stopped. Blinked. I hadn’t expected that to work so well.
Sure, it wouldn’t hold them forever, but it would keep them back for a moment or two.
Meanwhile, the scourge-touched made their move. They loped along the ground, bounded into the air, scrambled over their fellows, a tide of black eyes, sharp teeth and wicked claws.
The barrels of my turrets spewed death. There was no gap between volleys anymore. An unending torrent of lead (and a few other heavy metals) tore into the wall of monsters, pierced them and tore open their backs, then entered those unlucky enough to be directly behind.
*BRRRRRP*BRRP*BRRRP**
Black aerosolized blood or whatever the scourge had in its place misted against my face, filled my nostrils and coated the back of my throat. I fought not to gag.
The turrets, arguably, had it worse, the blood mist sizzled against the superheated metal of the barrels, while chunks of pulverized meat and bone slapped against their legs as they engaged the horde at close range.
Yet, the scourge came on. Too many.
Perimeter breaches quickly became the norm..
The sword was out again, whatever finesse I’d remembered to employ when I was fresh was quickly forgotten for the sheer amount of things that needed to die.
My feet carried me from one breach to the next. My opponents didn’t all arrive healthy and whole, but they had to be put down regardless. They didn’t stop trying to kill me until they were utterly dead.
You are now level 13.
Sword is now level 2.
Sword is now level 3.
I slashed at their faces. I chopped at their necks. Stabbed their hearts.
The bodies piled up around us, me and my machines.
As fatigue loomed, I switched my sword to my metal hand. It wasn’t nearly as adept at this kind of thing as my natural one since it had no nerve endings, but it was the best solution I had.
I summoned another rock to throw, but the scourge-touched wouldn’t let me breathe. I was always moving, always chopping.
No time.
Screw it. Please let this work.
I summoned more stones, a handful of them at a time and began to channel.
Volatility [1 MP/sec]
Volatility [1 MP/sec]
Volatility [1 MP/sec]
Volatility [1 MP/sec]
Volatility [1 MP/sec]
Split Mind is now level 8.
*BRRRRAP*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR*
It was a constant. The turrets had so much to shoot at. So many hateful faces.
I needed space. I needed it now.
I channeled Volatility into the rocks in my hand as long as I dared until the splitting feeling became unbearable, then I cocked my arm back and let fly with a side armed pitch Vince would have been proud of, a throw that released all of my glowing stones at a different point in the arc.
The stones fanned outward, past the stairwell turret and into the line of monsters.
*BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM*
You are now level 14.
The world went quiet.
Status gained: Deafened. [1 min]
Breathing hard and feeling a full mana migraine flare behind my eyes, I staggered over the broken, perforated forms of my enemies and to my pile of oiled wood.
Status gained: Engine [14 MP/sec for 10 min]
You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [1,092/1,250]
You gain knowledge of material: Pex Oil [1/10]
I got my feet under me. The roof spun in place as my ears wept blood, and I fought to stay upright.
“Come on! Come on!” I shouted at their faces spinning around to make sure they all saw I was fine, and I was unafraid. “You wanted me! I’m still here!”
Of course, the multiverse being what it was, that was when the first turret ran dry.