“We need to kill her fast.”
Osar had grouped them all together for a quick briefing. Serra had been inclined to argue at the Urgan warrior’s taking the lead, but a shake of Eric’s head quelled her outburst. Osar knew their enemy and they did not; letting him direct them during this mission made sound tactical sense.
“Similar will broodmother be to these,” Osar began, nudging one of the dead Sesang drones with his boot. “Hard of skin, difficult to damage. Additionally, it also has/possess mouth of spouting that dangerous spell-like conditions can inflict.”
“Did you say spells? As in magic spells?”
Cid had been included in the planning meeting but it was tacitly understood that he was not going to have a major role in it, since he admitted his close-combat skills were virtually non-existent. He was also having difficulty adjusting his mindset to accommodate a world with magic and supernatural abilities that didn’t come purely from the mind.
In Union Space, the psychic powers of certain genetically-altered individuals were well-known and well-documented, found in roughly five percent of the entire human population. It was a legacy of the wild centuries immediately after the Terran Diaspora, when hundreds of newly-established planetary powers had begun experimenting on human subjects in response to various challenges the void had thrown at them. In modern times some people still feared espers, as they were commonly called, but their varied abilities, called talents, made them valuable and sought-after assets to various organizations.
Cid accepted magic was possible in a purely theoretical manner, having similar analogues in his native universe; he just needed time to process that in this universe power could come from something other than a person’s genetic makeup.
“Spell-like,” Osar clarified in answer to Cid’s question. “The broodmother can spit/vomit fluid that has effects like a weakening spell, and which is probably poisonous as well.”
“Weakness and poison.” Eric said, thinking about how their party could deal with those.
“Weakness affects the Corpus attribute sir,” Pig interjected softly. The AI had been conspicuously silent during the past hour, but Eric guessed it was busy assimilating all the information it was getting from what was happening around Eric. “Afflicted individuals will have their damage resistance and health regeneration decreased.”
Did he have regeneration?
“Your Ur-blooded trait gives you regenerative healing over time, sir.”
Eric wanted to question Pig more about his traits but Osar had continued speaking.
“Victory comes with speed and precision,” The big Urgan explained, using his hands to emphasize and clarify his words. The warrior had gradually become more understandable the longer they had conversed with each other, much to Eric’s relief and growing wonder. Was this another function of the System to facilitate communication? Eric determined that he would ask Osar about it later. “I attack from front and keep monster occupied, while Eric and Serra flank and try to do much damage, yes?”
“Sounds good.” Eric decided. The plan was short and sweet, and they could always adjust if circumstances warranted. Satisfied with the bones of their strategy, Eric turned to find Cid crouched over the other humanoid corpse in the room.
Curious himself, Eric walked over.
The dead man had pale blue skin and a smooth hairless scalp. Its large, slightly protruding eyes were filmy in death, and a large dark-colored tongue protruded from its wide, slack mouth. A bloody-rimmed hole with charred edges was located exactly in the middle of his forehead, clearly indicating how he had died.
“That was Daxos,” Osar suddenly spoke beside Eric, a sad note detectable in his deep, gravelly voice. “He tried to protest when Lugthal and his regular crewmates decided to kill me off.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Cid automatically said, extending a hand to close the dead man’s eyes.
“We knew each other before he joined up with the Geludan crew,” Osar continued. “He was the one who suggested me for this job.”
Knowing there was nothing he could say, Eric placed a hand on the Urgan’s broad shoulder. Osar turned to him and nodded his thanks for the gesture. Then the Urgan bent down and tugged off a ring from Daxos’ limp hand before quickly getting back to his feet.
“Serra,” he said loudly, before tossing the ring over, which the woman he addressed quickly caught. “Claim that ring and its yours. Poor Daxos here won’t be needing it anymore.”
Serra stared at him blankly for a moment.
Before Eric could tell her what to do, Osar did it for him.
“To claim a free item, you just need to place a little of your blood on it.”
Serra looked to Eric, who gave her a nod and walked over to hand her the small folding knife that he had been using. Serra balanced her long war-hammer on its broad head and lifted up the ring in one hand while clutching the knife in the other. Cid scrambled to his feet and moved closer, watching the proceedings with clear interest. Serra opened a small cut on her thumb and placed it over the ring.
Immediately, her expression changed, and her eyes moved, which Eric recognized as someone looking through notification screens. Without looking down, Serra slipped the spatial device over her right ring finger.
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She moved her hand and the knife it was holding disappeared. She brought that hand down to touch the haft of her war-hammer and that weapon too disappeared.
“Amazing!” Cid exclaimed, fascinated by the demonstration of actual magic.
“Do you know any weapon-use friend Cid?” Osar asked casually, eyeing the big scientist with a critical eye.
“I’m a good hand with a handgun or a rifle.” Cid claimed, but withered under Serra’s disbelieving gaze. “Ok, that was all in games… Though I did take an archery class when I was still in Uni.” He added hopefully.
Osar’s eyes brightened and he produced a complicated-looking compound bow and a quiver of red-fletched arrows. “This is third-best bow for hunting. You can try a few shots; it might distract the broodmother. Just do not shoot where comrades you might hit.”
“Nice,” Osar said, taking the bow and draping the quiver across his body. “But I want one of those rings too, okay?”
“Settle down, Mr. Arth-Veda,” Eric cut in. “We’ll be doing inventory and redistributing resources as soon as we can get a safe enough window to do so. For now, let’s get this mission done.”
“Aye sir!”
“Roger that!”
“Sorry me,” Osar asked, raising a hand. Looking pointedly at Eric’s and Serra’s weapons, the big Urgan asked. “Why you not yet claimed your weapons?”
A few minutes later the small party headed out of the room, after storing the Sesang drones as well as the dead Geludan crewman in Eric’s expansive ring, whose capacity surprised Osar. Eric and Serra had sheepishly claimed their chosen weapons, and Osar had given them hurried instructions on how to charge their claimed weapons with aether. Cid, who still remained Coreless and unarmed, was tasked with watching the rear and carrying several health potions to hand over to anyone who might need it.
Osar led the way, telling them he was following his nose, with the three Terrans trailing after. The group passed several areas where signs of recent battle could be seen, and Osar informed them that it was all from the running battle that had occurred between the Geludan team and Vashanka after they had an argument over compensation.
“Bodies are gone,” The big warrior noted after the group came upon a particularly torn up section of the corridor, blood splattered all over the walls and floor. “The Sesang drones would have collected them and brought them to the nest: Food for younglings.”
“Jakobin,” Eric was keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry in the closed corridor. They were at another intersecting corridor, one that Osar said was going to lead them to a circular antechamber. The big Urgan had gone ahead to scout a bit before they all went charging in. “What Type did you choose.”
The young woman looked back at him, the scars on her cheeks clearly visible against her darker skin. “Support, sir… Figured we’d need one.”
“Hmm,” Eric answered, remembering he had almost taken that same Type earlier. “You purchase any abilities?”
“Yes sir; I got a touch-activated heal for medium healing and a mass heal that gives me more targets.”
“Got anything to remove weakness or poison.”
“Not really, sir.”
“No worries then,” Eric’s expression hardened at that, but he just nodded his head. “Avoid getting hit it is.”
Less than a minute later Osar returned and the four of them huddled together to finalize their plan.
The Sesang broodmother was a hulking seven-foot tall monstrosity with two flail-like arms, four bladed cutting arms, and two segmented antennae at the top of its elongated head. Its mouth was a nightmare opening of concentric rows of teeth, from which it could spew blasts of toxic fluid that, as per Osar’s warning, could inflict weakness or poison, or possibly both. Its gigantic, fluid-filled abdomen was resting on a macabre nest made out of the dead bodies of Osar’s former comrades. Underneath the semi-translucent stretch of abdominal tissue, large elongated shapes could be seen swirling in amber-colored fluid.
The three humanoid fighters silently entered the room, weapons ready, and quickly spread out to be able to attack from different directions. Cid positioned himself at the mouth of the corridor, bow held awkwardly in his hands.
White light flashed from Serra’s pupils as she activated Flaw-Seeker.
“Plan A is a winner.” Serra said quietly to her two companions, slapping her belly with her free hand. Her two comrades nodded in understanding.
The broodmother watched the small party take their positions with its multiple eyes, its various appendages moving hypnotically, a wave of almost palpable hostility emanating from its grossly-distended body. From behind the waist high walls of the circular reception island that stood in the middle of the chamber, the beast looked down at the approaching intruders like a grand lord atop an impregnable castle.
Osar was the first to charge in, opening the battle with an electric bolt that blasted off one of the beast’s whip arms with a crash of sound and a blinding flash of light. The spell took even his companions by surprise, making them falter in their charge. Osar leapt over the outer wall of the island, his sword slashing down, only to be met by two of the beast’s cutting arms, crossed to receive his blow.
Shockwaves expanded outward from the point of the weapons meeting, blasting Osar back and notching his blade. The beast shrieked, following immediately with a horizontal whip strike that Osar managed to block midair with his black shield, the force of which spun him into the surrounding walls.
As Osar hurtled back, Eric rushed in from the side, the blade of his newly-claimed sword glowing purple along several lines etched into its length, currently filled to bursting with void aether. He swung at the broodmother’s abdomen, aiming to puncture the sac and cause major damage. Incredibly, despite being occupied by Osar’s charge, one of the beast’s bladed arms intercepted Eric’s strike, only to recoil back as Eric’s charged blade bit deep enough to cripple it.
Caustic blue blood spurted out of the cut, spraying over Eric as he reached out to slap his palm onto the disgustingly yielding flesh of the beast’s abdomen.
Mark.
Burden.
The distended abdomen ruptured, crushed by its own weight as five tons of downward force bore down on its frame. Foul smelling fluid washed everywhere, sending unborn beasts and humanoid cadavers sloshing all over, causing Eric to lose his footing and slam his back on the island’s outer barrier, knocking the breath out of his body.
From the other side, Serra charged, her hammer slashing down diagonally, snapping the howling beast’s intercepting arms with the force behind her blow. Red flames bloomed wherever her hammer touched beast flesh, drawing keening cries of pain from the creature as clouds of oily black smoke rose towards the ceiling.
A red-fletched arrow skidded across the armor on the broodmother’s chitinous chest, distracting her as Osar once more leaped in, this time connecting with his overlarge sword. As his blade pierced inward through the beast’s torso, Osar roared wordlessly, a terrifying sound that accompanied the snap of brittle bones as the Urgan ripped his sword upward and out. A wave of guts, steaming blood and other noxious fluids cascaded down on Osar, hiding him from sight as the monster he had injured raised its head in a keening, tortured cry.
Once more Serra came rushing in from the side, sidestepping most of the flailing appendages before using one of the bladed arms as a stepping stone to leap upward. Serra soared, her entire body fully extending to add force to her attack. In midair she readied an overhand blow at the beast’s clustered eyes, her war-hammer’s glowing head nearly touching the small of her back. At the apex of her arc she abruptly uncurled like a bent sapling, slamming her weapon directly on target, crushing the broodmother’s skull.