The desolate bog greeted them as they stepped through the portal. Thick, cloying fog hung in the air, heavy with the scent of decaying vegetation and stagnant water. Every step Zark'thul took sank into the sodden earth, and he could feel the mud seep through the fabric of his shoes, squelching unpleasantly between his toes.
Zark'thul was unmoved, neither cursing the slick ground nor complaining about the constant film of moisture that covered his clothes within moments. It was merely a space—a change of scenery to which he would, as always, adapt.
Locating the beast wouldn't have been a problem if Zark'thul had simply summoned his old drones and sent them out as a swarm across the murky terrain. It would have been so simple. Thousands of eyes, connected to his will.
Instead, he had to rely on... them.
Zark'thul looked back at his first batch of Agents, those REDLINEs. They'd already spread out, with One, Two, Three, and Five assuming flanking positions, while Four remained him.
He bit back a scoff at their stance—overly cautious, as if expecting an attack at any moment. If only they knew what true danger was...
"Sir," Elspeth's voice came from the AetherLink. "If you're ready to begin the mission, then you should select an Agent to lead the squad. It can be either yourself or one of your current five Agents."
He selected himself, of course. Did she really think he'd trust these frail creatures to complete this task without his guidance? No, he would do it himself. He tapped the icon labeled "Assign Leadership," and a message appeared on the screen:
[You may now assign a Squad Leader. An Agent may only serve as a leader once per mission. Agents with higher Leadership abilities may offer better buffs and reduce mission failure penalties.]
Zark'thul made note of that for later and then assigned himself as the leader of the mission.
[You currently do not have any Leadership bonuses to grant your squad.]
He shrugged off the snub. It was temporary, after all.
The mission timer started ticking down from four hours, and a new objective appeared at the top of the screen:
[Locate and eliminate the murk beast]
Four and five drew handguns, Two took out a pair of combat knives, and Three readied her rifle. One carried a round shield attached to his arm and wielded a sword with the other. They each took their place in the squad formation, weapons at the ready.
Zark'thul let them have at it, seeing no reason to interfere just yet. His gaze swept over the fog-shrouded landscape, searching for any signs of movement. There were none, save for the occasional gust of wind rustling through the reeds.
Time to survey the area, then.
"Proceed," he commanded. "We have a murk beast to hunt. Two and Three, scout ahead. One, Four, and Five, with me."
The Agents nodded in unison, and then Two and Three crept off, slinking into the misty haze. One, Four, and Five fanned out behind Zark'thul as he set off, wading through the bog water that had already filled his shoes.
An hour passed, and their search uncovered nothing of interest beyond the thickening mist. Zark'thul wasn't a patient being—he had no need to wait around for his prey. He stopped, feeling the churn of irritation in his gut.
A notification suddenly flashed on the AetherLink.
[Squad morale decreased by 5%]
What? He stared at the screen, frowning. That was unexpected.
"Elspeth?" he said, touching the AetherLink screen to open a connection. "I've encountered an issue. Explain the notification I just received."
Elspeth's voice came through the device, clear and calm. "Agents in your squad have certain stats, including morale. The longer a squad remains in a hostile environment or continuously on a mission, their morale will gradually decline. You'll also get an alert if they reach zero morale and begin deserting or committing acts of mutiny."
Zark'thul closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Damn nuisances... I have half a mind to disassemble them and see if this 'morale' survives when reduced to pieces."
The three REDLINEs with him perked up, turning their heads, their bodies tense with concern.
Zark'thul only snorted, shaking his head. "Don't look so... alarmed," he muttered, tapping the "Map" icon.
A topographical grid of sorts overlaid the current view, showing his squad's position relative to each other. He found he could tap any icon to get a detailed readout of each Agent's equipment, stats, and abilities. With a swipe, Zark'thul expanded the map to show more of the area. They'd searched through only a fraction of the bog's surface. The misty, damp hell was bigger than he'd thought, and he had to force down yet another bout of frustration.
"How is morale calculated?" he asked.
"It's based on several factors," Elspeth said. "Agent satisfaction with their current role in the mission, physical and mental fatigue, and their perception of the overall threat level."
He pondered that for a moment, then glanced back at One, Four, and Five. Their eyes scanned the surroundings warily, fingers still hovering close to their weapons. They remained quiet, obedient. At least for now.
"How do I increase their morale?" he asked.
"That's for you to figure out, sir. Platitudes, rewards, discipline—they all play a part in keeping your employees happy. But right now, I'd suggest keeping them busy and making sure they don't die."
The idea of platitudes and rewards disgusted him, but perhaps there was something to this discipline. For now, their morale was high enough that he didn't need to worry about mutiny.
Just then, Two's voice crackled over the comms. "Squad leader, we've got a potential contact on the western flank. Over."
"Confirmed," Three added. "Repeat, possible target sighted. Requesting orders. Over."
Zark'thul looked back at the minimap. He could see Two and Three's icons in the distance, the yellow outline indicating the perimeter of their scouting area. And within that area, there was a single red dot—the indicator for the "possible target."
"Stay put and don't engage before I arrive," he said, gesturing for his other Agents to follow him.
----------------------------------------
Zark'thul nudged aside a stand of dead brush as he crept toward Two and Three's position. The terrain became more uneven here, with stretches of overgrown grass interrupted by rotting logs. He weaved his way through a thicket, pausing every so often to scan the fog-laden mire.
One, Four, and Five trailed behind him.
He spotted Three's position first. The Agent lay prone on an elevated outcrop, the barrel of her gun aimed at something up ahead. He crouched low, crawling up behind her and gazing in the direction she faced.
"What do you see?" he whispered, nudging her shoulder.
She pointed, shifting the barrel of her gun just slightly.
On the other side of a small clearing, behind a crude wall of jagged tree stumps and half-submerged boulders, Zark'thul saw it—a hulking, grotesque form lurking just beyond the reach of the clearing's pale light. The thing moved with a sluggish, deliberate motion, as if every step it took required immense effort.
Mud clung to its mottled hide, a patchwork of slick scales and dark, leathery skin. From its wide, flattened maw dripped a thick, black ichor, while its bulbous eyes rolled slowly in their sockets.
The murk beast.
Three's breath was shallow, her rifle trained on the beast's head. She hadn't fired—yet.
Zark'thul could see the tension in her posture, the slight twitch in her trigger finger as she waited for his command. Two lay nearby, hiding in a dense clump of reeds, a set of dual combat knives in hand. From what little Zark'thul could see of her face, her eyes were sharp with the same focused intensity as Three's.
His human body betrayed him with a flicker of uncertainty. As if he suddenly needed to breathe to perform the necessary calculations. He forced down the discomfort and channeled his focus—or as close as he could come.
This was nothing compared to his prime, he reminded himself. Compared to the alien armadas and terrors of the vast spaces beyond, a lone beast was nothing.
He eyed the beast again, sizing it up.
Even this fleshy, temporary body he was trapped in should be able to defeat it if he tore through the creature with his own bare hands. That was a possibility, but one he was disinclined to explore. It was probably against Elspeth's advice, besides. He didn't want to discover the hard way how flimsy this new flesh might be.
Better to start small, then, to see how much—or how little—he could trust these Agents.
Two crept over to his position, her body crouched low, her footsteps silent. "What's the plan, sir?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Should I move in with Two and flank?"
His focus shifted to the tactical side of the situation.
The beast seemed slow and unaware, but he wasn't taking chances. Its scaly hide and obvious lack of soft spots meant any attempt at piercing its armor would be ill-advised, at least until he knew more about its anatomy.
More importantly, the beast's stumpy limbs suggested it didn't have the speed or agility to avoid a well-placed shot. Still, it was hard to know its capabilities beyond that initial assessment.
He'd have to plan accordingly.
He looked at his AetherLink, calculating the scenario in his head. Another icon caught his attention—a camera. He tapped on it and positioned the AetherLink to get a full view of the Murk Beast.
An overlay of crosshairs appeared on the AetherLink screen, and with a deft gesture, he dragged them over the beast's body, rotating it for an oblique angle. A series of information appeared on the screen:
> Data Analysis: Murk Beast
> Level: 1
> Type: Magical Beast (Elite)
> Role: Berserker
> Health (HP): 450
> Defense (DEF): 40
> Magic Resistance (MRES): 30
> Attack (ATK): 80
> Speed (SPD): 15
> Crit Rate (CRIT): 9%
> Dodge (DODGE): 8%
The data helped him with a couple of things—at least now he had some form of tactical input to rely on rather than gut feeling alone. Most of the data seemed intuitive enough to comprehend, but the 'Role' classification made him pause.
A Berserker.
Did that mean this creature was designed to charge into danger heedless of the risk? Could the creature gain power from taking damage?
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Hmm. No need for speculation. The AetherLink had always provided concise descriptions thus far. Zark'thul tapped on the term, "Berserker," to see what additional information might reveal itself:
> [Berserker] High damage output, focusing on relentless attacks and self-healing.
>
> [Role-Counter System] Each role has strengths and weaknesses against other roles, resulting in a series of counters that provide stat bonuses, penalties, or other combat modifiers. The effectiveness of a role against another is determined by their inherent advantages and disadvantages in battle.
>
> [Counter Relationships] Tank > Assassin > Sniper > Berserker > Tank
>
> [Counter Relationships] Controller > Warrior-Mage > Artillery > Summoner > Controller
>
> [Support Roles play a neutral role in the counter system. However, their impact is amplified or diminished depending on the synergy with the team.]
>
> [Bonuses for countering a role]
>
> Attack (ATK) and Magic (MAG): +20% to damage dealt (either physical or magical, depending on the role) when fighting a countered role.
> Speed (SPD): +10% boost in Speed, allowing the countering Agent to act more quickly against the countered role.
> Critical Rate (CRIT): +10% increase in Critical Hit chance, reflecting the strategic advantage of countering an opponent.
>
> [Penalties for Being Countered]
>
> Dodge Rate (DODGE) and Block Rate (BLOCK): -15% reduction in dodge/block chance, representing the disadvantage of being outmaneuvered by a countering role.
It all made sense to him, even if the 'Roles' and 'Countering' were things he never had to worry about before. Still, he appreciated the tactical aspect of it all.
The main takeaway from the text was that One was not well-suited to fight against the murk beast, based on its listed role and this "Berserker" designation. Having him do so anyway would probably serve no purpose except to possibly illustrate why the Counters mattered.
A thought occurred to him. A plan that might work. One that wouldn't cost him any of these humans just yet. It all depended on whether this human body was as well-suited to physical combat as he could guess.
He approached One and commanded, "Give me your shield."
"Yes, sir."
One unstrapped the shield from his forearm and handed it over. It was heavier than expected, but manageable, a sturdy construct of metal and polymer.
Zark'thul pulled on the straps and fit them to his own arm, testing the heft as he did so. This would serve for his purposes.
He looked back at the beast, which had, until now, kept its attention focused on foraging in the surrounding bog. Time to get the attention of the thing, then.
"I'll keep the beast's attention on me," he said, checking his Agents' positions one last time. "On my signal, surround the creature and converge from all sides. Three, find high ground and get ready to hit it with those rifle rounds."
She gave a quick, resolute nod. He didn't quite have time to grimace at that weak form of confirmation, focusing instead on the task at hand.
"Five, lay your traps between the creature and the path towards Three. One will engage it last."
The rest of the Agents nodded in unison, grim but obedient. Good. For all their supposed weaknesses, at least these humans had a workable veneer of discipline.
He gestured for them to move, and they split off without another word, gliding through the soggy terrain to carry out their tasks.
Zark'thul tromped forward, striding across the clearing toward the murk beast. It didn't look at him, didn't move, barely even seemed aware of his presence. But a sudden shift in its posture—the slight stiffening of its limbs, the shallow intake of air—and he knew it had sensed him.
The murk beast glanced in his direction, just enough to watch him approach, its eyes glimmering in the semi-dark. Then, with a low rumbling growl, it lumbered around to face him fully.
Zark'thul increased the cadence of his steps, adding a mocking swagger, using the momentum to build up to a charging sprint. The beast responded in kind, lowering its head and spreading its maw wide to roar in challenge.
He slammed into the front bumper of its jaw, his shield leading. It hit with the harsh sound of metal against bone, and the murk beast recoiled, but just barely. Before Zark'thul could exploit the opening, it was already launching into a counter-attack, lunging at him with gaping maw.
Zark'thul heaved up the shield, angling its metal surface to block a blow, bracing his legs to withstand the coming force.
It was a mistake.
The impact of the blow shook him to his core, nearly toppling him to the ground. His arms buckled under the weight of it, while the shock reverberated through his limbs, leaving them numb and weak. Its claw raked across the edge of the shield, slashing across the metal, sending sparks flying.
Another claw managed to stab through a gap, slicing a shallow line along his chest, and a small sliver of pain bloomed in its wake. Blood welled up.
He ignored it. Through his body's instinctive response to injury, his brain made the calculations. He reached for his AetherLink with his free hand while holding the shield in place to block more strikes.
[Zark'thul]
[Health] 446/500
Another slash from the beast's claw tore another gash into Zark'thul's side, this one deeper and longer, the tip scraping past the ribs. This time, he gritted his teeth to hold back the sound, keeping his focus on the AetherLink.
[Health] 392/500
Good. He could hold.
Zark'thul slammed the end of his shield's metal rim against the top of the creature's mouth—one of the few exposed places that he could reach. But if the blow registered at all, it was as little more than an irritant. The beast didn't flinch or recoil, just kept attacking.
This should be enough.
"Now!" he called through clenched teeth.
A sharp, snapping crack split the air. Blood blossomed across the beast's side. Another gunshot, another wound torn open. And another.
Two slipped into his peripheral vision, then slid past the beast's massive forelimbs. Her knife flashed out, carving a wound along the side of one thick arm. When the monster wheeled to confront her, she vanished into the bog.
Four and Five followed on either flank, firing their pistols in quick, controlled bursts. More bullets strafed across the creature's hide.
It howled in rage and swung its broad, flattened maw in a wide arc, a miasma of corrosive, vile odor spewing from its jaws. Zark'thul ignored it and swung his shield toward the other side, aiming for its throat, a heavy, awkward blow that made the beast flinch for an instant.
And then One leapt atop its back, swinging down with his blade, parting a section of thick scales beneath his attack. A volley of bullets ripped past the creature's head from another direction, creating even more wounds for its attention.
The creature reared on them, shrieking its distress. The bog grew pungent with the odor of gunpowder and ichorous blood. Two was at its side again, darting through the knee-deep water like some bog ghost, sinking her blades deep into a jointed forelimb, and dragging the sharp edges down, dismembering muscle and tendon.
Zark'thul lunged into position just beneath the thing's neck. With a roar, he swung up his shield, slamming it into the side of the beast's jaw. An audible crack rattled through its throat, a satisfying noise.
Still, it got the beast's attention again, drawing its gaze and its rage back toward him. Just where he wanted it. He brought the shield up in a wide, arcing backswing, slapping its side. And then he threw the entire force of his body behind a hard kick to its flank.
The beast wheeled around, lashing out with a claw.
Zark'thul drew back, but the claws still connected—each one cutting deep furrows through his shirt and flesh beneath, as the force of the blow lifted him into the air and sent him hurtling across the murky water.
His shield clattered from his grip as he hit the ground, jarring his body. He checked his health through the AetherLink's screen:
[Health] 284/500
A jarring blow, then. He wiped his cheek, slicked with mud and the faint spittle of the creature's breath.
With a wordless growl, he rose to his feet and charged again.
Zark'thul rolled back to avoid a downward sweep of its claws, which tore into the soft, sodden ground, carving up chunks of rotten soil. Then, he ducked beneath a clumsy bite, finding space under its maw.
He punched up, driving his fist against the underside of the beast's jaw. His knuckles connected solidly against hide and scale—and then pain lanced up his arm as something snapped in his hand.
But he kept on punching, ignoring the agony, ignoring the blood streaming down his limbs from dozens of gouges and slashes. Just blind fury, the primal urge to maim and kill, driving him onward.
And yet, as he kept punching, it all receded from his mind. Not the pain. Not the injuries. His focus just became narrower, sharper.
Everything turned red around him, his senses flooding with hyper-focus on the act of killing.
Everything else fell away; there was only his hand, the beast, the sound of bone on scale.
More blows caught him, tearing open new wounds, spilling more of his blood. But still, he punched on. A fire surged within him, growing hotter with each passing moment.
In time, it all became a blur—a kaleidoscope of reds and browns, the muted boom of gunshots, the ripping snarl of torn flesh, the rush of his own breathing.
Around him, the Agents redoubled their efforts, guided by his wrathful lead.
And then something slammed into his left side—hard, heavy, pushing the breath from his lungs. He hit the ground hard enough to jar some semblance of awareness into him.
The murk beast towered over him, heaving itself down closer with each second, the stench of its hot, rotting breath washing over him. Its maw gaped wide, rows of teeth bared and dripping ichor.
As it growled in anticipation of devouring him whole, more shots cracked out, several bullets striking its armored hide from an angle behind.
Two's knives flashed in and out of the darkness, drawing thin lines across the beast's legs and haunches, hamstringing it. Four and Five's pistols thundered with steady rhythm, each bolt embedding itself deep into the murk beast's backside.
As one of its eyes exploded from a rifle shot, the beast roared, finally turning around to charge toward Three's new firing position.
Explosions ruptured the ground as it barreled through the traps Five had laid along the route.
It slowed, staggering on ruined, bleeding limbs, but its rage drove it forward into a shambling charge toward Three.
One met the creature's advance. His blade whirled, cutting an arc across the beast's maw, bisecting nostrils, and then came down again, cutting the flesh under its forelimbs open in a long gash.
With his bloodied hand, Zark'thul raised his AetherLink to inspect the murk beast once more.
[Murk Beast]
[Health] 127/450
He was slightly off in his calculations, but the creature should be weakened enough by now that finishing it would be swift work.
"Finish it!" he shouted, his throat raw.
The Agents redoubled their efforts, slicing at it and unloading bullets into its sides with abandon. Then, its hind legs buckled as Three let loose another burst of rounds, finishing the job.
The murk beast sank low to the ground, its head dipping into the mud, and the world around them finally stilled. Blood mingled with the water, churning with the swamp, steaming in the cooling air.
With one final shudder, the beast's body slumped down, its breath finally hissing out in a long, ragged sigh.
A chime sounded, and a message popped up on the AetherLink screen.
> [Directive 1-1: Slay the Murk Beast complete!] Reward: 100 Experience (EXP), 10 Quintessence Shards (QSP), 1 Experience Core (Basic), 1 common-quality shield.
> [Bonus Objective Complete!] Reward: 250 EXP, 20 QSP, 1 stim pack (restores 50 Health), 1 restorative salve (cures minor poison), 1 chomper mine (lowers target's MRES and inflicts 35 damage), 3 Experience Cores (Basic)
>
> [Your Agent's morale has increased by +5% for completing this mission with no casualties!]
Zark'thul scrolled through his AetherLink display to check his own status:
[Health] 230/500
That was more damage than he had predicted, but still, acceptable. He pressed a thumb into a wound, curious at how it stung at his touch. Yes, that would be annoying if this kept happening. Humans were fragile.
Zark'thul allowed himself a grim smile as he pocketed his AetherLink. Pain was a sensation that he could do without, but the feeling of victory more than made up for it.
He stepped closer to the beast's corpse, inspecting it. His Agents stood guard around him, weapons at the ready, though they seemed relaxed now. Even One wore a look of grim satisfaction on his face, his sword stained red.
"Congratulations," Elspeth's voice commended him over the AetherLink's speakers. "Your first mission is complete."
Zark'thul rested a boot on the corpse of the murk beast, leaning against it for support. He reached for his AetherLink again, pulling it out. Elspeth's image appeared on its screen.
"What now? How do we get back?" he asked.
"You will need to use the 'Recall' function in the AetherLink menu to return to the Nexus," she said. "Simply open the menu and select 'Recall.'"
Zark'thul grunted as another bolt of pain shot through his broken arm. The rest of his body ached, too, his limbs weighed down by fatigue. He opened the menu and tapped the icon labeled "Recall."
The world blinked away, leaving only a brief flash of darkness before he found himself standing in the Nexus Room once more. The Agents that accompanied him materialized nearby, their weapons already holstered.
Elspeth appeared at his side, her hand reaching for his wounded arm.
"It's all right," he snapped.
She withdrew her hand, blinking at him, before turning to the others. "Please report to the infirmary for medical treatment."
They nodded and filed out of the room, save for One. He glanced back at Zark'thul before Elspeth waved him on.
Once they were alone, she led Zark'thul over to what seemed like his private quarters—a lavish suite with a bed, desk, and chair. The luxuries here might as well have been for show, though, since he needed nothing but this body.
Elspeth guided him to sit on the bed and leaned forward to examine his wounds. "You've performed well, sir. However, I advise caution when handling more dangerous creatures in the future."
"Of course," he said, his tone flat.
She seemed unfazed by his curt reply, her hands moving to undo his shirt. He let her peel away the torn fabric, revealing the ugly gashes beneath.
"Your injuries will require you to rest in your medical pod," she explained as she walked over to a wall and pressed on its surface. A panel slid aside, revealing a sleek, black coffin-like pod. She gestured to it with an expectant look. "Once inside, the pod will repair your body while you sleep. All of the details will appear on your AetherLink. Any questions?"
Zark'thul grunted. He couldn't care less about how it worked, just that it did. With Elspeth's help, he climbed into the pod, which shut behind him.
As his mind faded into darkness, his thoughts drifted to his next move. Once everyone has healed, he'll gather his Agents to repeat the mission. The data from the first attempt proved invaluable—now that he knew what to expect, the task would be easier.