The Sea Men were about to collectively face several trials. The first was the main team’s deployment to the red zone around California. As experienced as the team was, they did not hold much bargaining power due to their withdrawal from PDDC and PIMP politics early in the team’s inception. Therefore, they could not decline state-assigned missions despite having quite a high average level. The red zones were essentially as close as one could be to the front lines without entering California. Watch towers, trenches, and razor wire spanned much of the Golden State’s border. The gradually increasing scourge activity was alarming the upper brass who knew they couldn’t afford another war. The veteran paragon numbers were at an all-time low since the first invasion, much due to suicide and early retirement.
The second was Steve’s growing restlessness. He lived a sheltered existence as the Sea Men’s brand-new recruit, which meant as the team was deployed more often, he was always left behind. He had gone on one excursion with Randal and that was it. This meant that Steve was about to do something really stupid.
“Do you have a rewards card?” The disinterested clerk asked Steve. Steve fumbled around in his pocket but remembered he didn’t do bullshit like that.
“No,” Steve replied. Steve paid his total in quarters and one-dollar bills then left the store. In the bag he carried a box of granola bars, a rubber horse mask, a Redbull, and a machete. Steve left the Walmart parking lot and headed toward Seabrook’s PIMP branch. The town was small enough that he could just about walk anywhere and get there in under half an hour. Steve didn’t like authority, and he especially disliked PIMP, which meant there was a Steve-reason for going to the branch. Steve reasons were usually not good and always involved a degree of chaos.
It was a rare sunny day this time of year on the coast. The gray clouds had peeled back to reveal a chilling blue sky as the sun hung overhead. The salty breeze kicked out the stagnation of the overcast clouds, as the seagulls made their obnoxious noises and ate trash like they usually did. The Seabrook PIMP branch almost never saw any commotion and was more of a formality than anything. If people had paragon business, they could just take one of the three daily planes to Citadel Horizon. For the first time in a decade, there was a commotion in the Seabrook PIMP branch. A man wearing a horse mask holding a Redbull in one hand, and a Walmart bag in the other, insisted that he was Randal the Slayer.
“Sir, I’m going to have to see some identification. We can’t just lend company vehicles to anyone,” The poor front desk lady almost whimpered. She was fresh out of high school and clearly didn’t have much training other than performing the basic tasks of a receptionist.
“But I’m Randal, I’m a bit of a big deal you see,” Steve said trying to figure out what Randal would say.
“Then why don’t you take your mask off?” She retorted.
“I, uh am feeling a little under the weather today. But trust me, I’m actually him,” Steve lied. Nothing was going according to plan. He was facing much more resistance than he thought he would.
“Then tell me your last name,” The receptionist had gained her bearings amidst the absurdity of the situation she found herself in.
“Fuck,” Steve muttered unintentionally. He had to change his tactics, it seemed impersonation wasn’t working. He hadn’t been confident with his plan to begin with, he just assumed everything would mostly work out like it usually did. “I’ll tell you what,” Steve leaned in closer to the receptionist, breathing heavily inside the stifling rubber mask he wore. “Let’s keep this between you and me,” He said quietly as he reached into his bag and slid her a granola bar as a bribe.
“Are you bribing me? Bribery of public officials is a federal crime,” She replied with a level voice. If she was being honest with herself, she was thoroughly amused by the strange man. Nothing happened at the Seabrook branch, the highlight of her day was usually watching a seagull swallow an extra large piece of garbage from the trashcan outside. Steve slid another granola bar across the counter. She was playing hard to get.
“I’m not going any higher than this,” Steve said, referring to the two granola bars on the hardwood counter.
“I can’t accept bribes,” The woman said without budging. Steve once again had to change his tactics, it seemed that the foe he faced was a woman who adhered to a strict moral code. He respected it greatly.
“Well, Hannah,” Steve said as he looked at her nametag mid-sentence, “You seem like a lady with principles. And I respect that. But, I really really need a vehicle, and it’s for a good reason,” Steve’s reason was not the greatest. It was another Steve-reason. Steve was someone who was near neutrality in the alignment spectrum but leaned all so slightly towards good. Hannah was beginning to slightly enjoy this interaction. She hardly had any human interaction at her job, usually being the sole employee on most days of the week.
“I’m sorry, I can’t lend company property to random people,” She repeated. “Are you even a paragon,” Steve’s ears perked up upon hearing that. He turned around and began to take his shirt off, revealing the intricate tattoo that covered his back. “No, stop, I believe you,” She sighed. The strange man didn’t have malicious intentions, she could tell that much.
“Then can I borrow a car?” Steve asked hopefully.
“No, you need t—”
“Fuck,” Steve muttered again. “Hannah, I’ve always thought you were really pretty. Like the way you stare into space, looking all dreamy when you think no one is looking,” Steve ad-libbed on the spot. He was freestyling the dialogue options until something worked. Steve had never seen Hannah in his life and knew nothing about her. “If it’s okay with you, could I have your number?” Steve asked, cringing inside as he relied entirely on the charisma of the plastic horse mask on his head. He stared at the woman through his mask and waited intently.
“I just need to see your driver’s license.”
“What?”
“I saw your paragon tattoos, I just need to see your driver’s license,” Hannah sighed. Steve rummaged around in his pocket until he found his wallet, then pulled out his driver’s license and handed it to the receptionist.
“Fill out this form,” Hannah slid aside the granola bars and replaced them with a sheet of paper. Steve looked over the form with difficulty, the mask he wore obscured his vision quite well. “Steven Michael, I’m going to have to see your face,” She said as she held up his license. Steve groaned, all his efforts had been in vain. He reluctantly took the rubber horse head mask off, moisture covering his face. The woman stared at him, then confirmed he was the owner of the license. Steve finished filling out the form and handed it back to her.
“Looks like you’re all set,” Hannah said as she walked to the far wall behind the desk and unhooked a key off the wall. She slid the key across the desk along with Steve’s granola bars. “It’s the white Prius in the parking lot.”
“Aww, man! What the fuck,” Steve cried out in protest. He hated Priuses with a passion that could not be described in words. He hated the vehicles almost as much as paying taxes. Crestfallen, Steve scooped up his granola bars and the car key. “Thanks, Layla,” He said as he exited the building. Hannah sighed.
***
Steve did not have direct access to the Global Gate Watch System since he was under level three. Those in his position were instead expected to work in parties with more experienced paragons who had the access and experience to handle gates. And as the policy expected, he was indeed in another group who had the experience to make their own decisions. Unfortunately for Steve, he would end up getting left behind more and more frequently. Most paragons would do anything short of dying to be in Steve’s position. The survival rates of paragons who did not retire were in the single digits, which meant it was a death sentence for most people. Steve’s lack of self-preservation instincts combined with his resistance toward internalizing trauma created a strange person who only remembered the thrill of battle. While Steve could not directly access the GGWS, he could use services that displayed which areas were hazardous, as they didn’t reveal precise coordinates of gate locations.
The wind howled softly, like a hungry dog that could not howl very loudly. The barren oak trees stood tall and gnarled, with spindly branches reaching for the scarce sunlight of winter. The sun’s zenith wasn’t much higher than a quarter of the sky. Steve was being naughty. He was itching to mangle the twisted fleshy monstrosities that terrorized the land. He knew there was a possibility of dying a horrible death, or getting injured and then dying, but he didn’t care. He trudged through the muddy forest floor, a machete in one hand, a Redbull in the other. Each step squelched as he completely coated his tennis shoes in mud. He was currently inside a yellow zone, the second-lowest threat level awarded by the GGWS. It was a swath of about 40 square kilometers of uninhabited land. The gate seemed to be dormant, and it was remote enough that PIMP didn’t seem to think stationing any men was necessary.
Steve could feel the water and mud squelch between his toes as it saturated his socks and shoes. I hate Washington, he muttered to himself. He’d been walking for a couple of hours now as he searched for the gate. He knew he should be able to feel it when he was close enough, but the area he had to search was big. There were a few access roads and overgrown trails he would occasionally cross, otherwise there was no evidence of life. Winter was quiet in the Pacific Northwest, but it wasn’t this quiet.
Steve began to feel the gate at some point. It was gradual, like gradually getting closer to a lightbulb in the dark, except it was the complete opposite. It was like walking toward a pit that swallowed mana and life. The oaks and cottonwoods began to appear more and more lifeless as the tug of the gate grew stronger. The already dreary palette of the forest was growing more desaturated as Steve continued. Bingo. He could hear the ethereal hiss of the gate about a hundred meters in front of him. The pattern of decay grew stronger as he continued until he broke through into a clearing. In a natural ecosystem, the meteor fragment impact site should have turned into a meadow quite quickly. In its place was a depleted patch of land where even the soil was withered; a gray husk of a meadow where only dirt surrounded the gate. In the center of the clearing was a quivering tear in reality. It was only about a meter high, barely hovering above the ground. Anticipation hummed in Steve’s ears as his heart rate began to increase.
Steve chugged another Redbull and shoved the empty can in his backpack. He brandished his machete as he rehearsed applying [Aura 1] a few more times. Saturating the entire blade was difficult, and he couldn’t do it for very long, but it was still better than nothing. Piercing damage from bullets, even when soaked with mana didn’t seem to be very effective on the creatures. Steve remembered Kingsley emptying an entire mag of Aura’d bullets into the sinthrall with minimal damage. He vaguely remembered something about a Geiger counter people normally did before entering a gate. That wasn’t really his style so he let the thought go. Steve let out a final belch that reverberated through the forest before he hopped through the gate.
What immediately struck Steve was the strangeness of the interior of the gate. There were structures that looked to be chiseled out of granite. Gray archways that stood over 20 meters high, like corrupted guardians of an alien world. The angles of everything were wrong, like twisted memories of what architecture should look like. Every angle of the arches was somehow obtuse in an impossible way. Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. Yellow fog hung at his ankles and lapped at his calves. The scenery before him was surreal.
[Life Support Activated]
Gate atmosphere is unfit to support human life
Temperature: 3 C°
Pressure: 1.47 Atmospheres
Gases detected:
40% CO2, 20% Nitrogen, 20% Oxygen, 9% Methane
Life Support Will now be activated to sustain user. 40 mana per hour will be consumed
“What the hell is methane doing here,” Steve wondered aloud. No one had ever told Steve that gates could have inhospitable atmospheres, unlike Earth’s. Steve could feel a thin veil form around him as the blessing slowly siphoned mana to keep him alive. The atmosphere of the gate was vastly different from Earth’s, which was primarily nitrogen and oxygen. Steve looked up, expecting a ceiling. Instead, there was gray fog and then nothing behind it. Steve shivered at how alien the entire gate was. The Yakima gate had been nothing more than a cave system that could be found anywhere on Earth. Something about this gate was wrong, and Steve could feel it. He turned around to leave through the rift. Alarm bells screamed within his brain as he turned around. There was no rift behind him. All that remained was the meandering path of twisted geometric bricks. Dread began to well up in Steve’s chest like a spring of black molasses. He was trapped in a place where even the air was trying to kill him.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Fuck this,” Steve muttered to himself. He knew this had been a mistake from the beginning, but this didn’t seem thrilling at all.
“F༙྇u༙྇c༙྇k༙྇ t༙྇h༙྇i༙྇s༙྇,” Steve’s voice was echoed back into his right ear. It was a grainy, soulless mimicry of his own voice, like an old recording. It was the very last thing he ever wanted to hear. It only took a few fractions of a second for Steve to realize something was terribly wrong. The reptilian remnants of his brain were screaming danger louder than a banshee. Steve’s nervous system jumped into overdrive as he jerked his head to the right, heart pounding like a jackhammer. He stood petrified, face to face with a deer. No, it wasn’t a deer. It was something much worse than a deer. Steve wanted to scream, but his voice caught in his throat and his body refused to even breathe. The deer’s eyes had long rotted away, leaving only black pits behind. Large tumorous growths protruded from its face, sagging under their weight. The deer's head was locked in a snarl as its lips and nose had rotted away. Steve was acquainted with fear, he’d experienced plenty of it before at the Yakima gate. He was by no means good friends with it, but the two had exchanged greetings a couple of times. What Steve felt right now was nowhere near that level of fear. Terror soaked through every fiber of his being, like chloroform in an old rag. He wanted to scream and curl up into a ball on the ground. The soulless pits of the deer stared back into Steve’s eyes, tilting its head.
“I༙྇ h༙྇a༙྇t༙྇e༙྇ W༙྇a༙྇s༙྇h༙྇i༙྇n༙྇g༙྇t༙྇o༙྇n༙༙྇྇,” The deer’s mouth opened and closed mechanically as it mimicked Steve’s voice again. Steve was chilled to the very marrow of his bones. Steve said that while barely 20 minutes into the yellow zone… nearly four hours ago. This thing followed me all the way here. The implications were incredibly terrifying. It followed him for several hours without him even knowing. Steve finally snapped out of his stupor and jerked his entire body away from the creature. It wasn’t just a deer head, a black segmented neck protruded from behind the severed animal head. Steve followed the long insect-like neck with his eyes to the main body. The main body of the creature stood over five meters in the air, like a black twisted arachnid. Eleven long spindly legs bent at odd angles pierced the ground.
“D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t.…c༙྇o༙྇m༙྇e…༙྇ a༙྇n༙྇y༙྇ c༙྇l༙྇o༙྇s༙྇e༙྇r༙༙྇྇,” The creature mimicked a female voice with difficulty. A sickening shuffling noise emerged from the deer’s mouth as a long black proboscis shot out of its mouth at lightning speed. Steve jerked to the side, barely dodging the attack. He quickly infused his machete with mana with the speed and concentration only possible during a life-and-death situation. The crude blade hummed with a faint blue light as small sparks crackled off it. How do I kill this thing? Steve’s mind raced as he weighed his options. It was way above his level, somewhere in the same ballpark as the Yakima sinthrall. Running wasn’t an option, Steve knew as soon as he turned his back the creature would sink its proboscis into his flesh. He needed distance to cast [Kovac Gun]. Steve shuffled backward as he avoided a swing from a long thin leg. With newfound dexterity, Steve swiftly picked up a rock from the ground. It was the size of a large apple, and a little larger than the biggest rock he’d ever fired. He let the aura from his machete dissipate and began to quickly form the mana shapes for his spell but was immediately interrupted by another swing from the creature’s legs.
“Fuck!” Steve swore. He was like a mouse running around the legs of a giraffe, unable to reach any vitals. Steve tried again to cast [Kovac Gun] but was unable to gain enough distance or time. The creature could catch up to Steve in one stride with its freakishly long legs. The terror had finally worn off, leaving only the fire of battle in Steve. He wanted to kill the creature, not just to survive, but because it was wrong and disgusting. It was a godless creature and he wanted it dead.
Steve bolted behind an archway, buying enough time to cast [Magic Missile]. The deer's head peered behind the pillar, only to be met with a blue flash. The glowing blue bolt of energy flew from Steve’s hand and collided with the deer's head with a crack. A flash of energy briefly painted the arches and fog blue as chunks of deer flash exploded everywhere. What remained in the place of the deer head was a mass of writhing tendrils and nerves that formed a kind of hand.
“D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t. D༙྇o༙྇n༙྇'༙྇t,” The creature repeated over and over again with its grainy voice. Steve sprinted from out of cover, keeping the pillar of the arch between him and the creature. He hastily fired two [Magic Missiles] at its abdomen as cover fire to gain distance. Unfortunately, both projectiles dissipated against the hard surface of its inky black shell. Steve’s heart sank. This wasn’t going to be like his first two encounters with the scourge where the level difference wasn’t that big. Steve was still Level One, and despite absorbing half of the XP he got from the harblek’s he wasn’t vastly stronger. What do I have? Steve opened his spell list, he needed to use whatever resources he could.
Spells
[Shitty Dollar Store Flashlight]
[Aura 1]
[Mana injection]
[Magic missile]
[Kovac Gun]
[Mana shield]
There had to be alternate applications for all these spells, something he could leverage. He closed the menu as he danced around, avoiding the slow lumbering swings of the creature’s legs. The creature had no eyes, so blinding it with a flash of light was out of the question. But how did it see? It somehow knew where he was at all times. If it could smell him, or hear him there was nothing he could do. Steve imbued the rock in his hand with mana until it shimmered blue. The creature quickly closed the gap and swung at him once again, however, when Steve dodged, he tossed the rock in the opposite direction. Instead of striking Steve again, another leg swung at the rock and swatted it out of the air with a crack. The imbued rock crumbled against the hard shell of the leg. The thing could see mana. Steve shivered. One hit and it would probably snap his spine or disembowel him. Steve knew he had to pierce its abdomen, but he knew he only had one tool at his disposal that was capable. In a desperate gamble, Steve grabbed all the pebbles he could from the ground and injected mana into them. 100 MP was gone in under five seconds and he now held a handful of glowing rocks.
Steve made a suicidal dash toward the monster and flung his glowing pebbles above his head in all directions. Steve panted heavily, even though barely 100 seconds had elapsed since the beginning of the encounter. Several legs swatted the pebbles out of the air, meanwhile, Steve conjured a mana shield in front of him. The creature’s neck and nerve endings flailed around in confusion as none of the mana signatures were alive.
The blue chaotic tendrils of mana formed a platform 140 centimeters above the ground. Using every ounce of strength, Steve leaped onto the platform of solid mana before jumping off of it and clambering onto one of the creature’s legs. The creature hissed in dissatisfaction as Steve clung to its long thin leg. With great desperation, Steve began to claw his wave up the leg using gaps in the armor as handholds. A black greasy substance coated every inch of his body that made contact with the creature. It shook its leg in an attempt to knock Steve off of it, but Steve was too far up it. Its long neck craned behind it as it repeatedly shot its proboscis at Steve but fell short every time. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Steve clawed his way onto its abdomen which was roughly the size of a horse. He held on for dear life against its slippery black shell as it shook itself violently. Steve imbued his machete with mana once again and began to hack at the creature’s shell. Each strike was deflected by the hard shell without leaving a scratch. Fuck. The black fountain of dread within Steve began to grow stronger, welling up in his stomach.
“I’m not strong enough,” Steve said shakily as he hacked away at the stony carapace. There were no gaps in the armor to attack, no convenient weak spot. By now, all the protagonists would have figured out the magic weak spot and then used the power of friendship to defeat their foe. Steve was alone in a dimensional pocket, there was no power of friendship to be used. Steve screamed in agonizing frustration as he realized he was going to die.
“SHUT UP! STEVE, THINK! YOU’RE A PARAGON,” He screamed at himself, face flushed with emotion. Getting knocked off the creature was inevitable, and he had to do something before he plummeted almost two stories to the stony ground below.
“Ask yourself the right questions, DUMBASS!” Steve yelled at himself, voice cracking. Why was he not strong enough? No, how could he use the tools he possessed to penetrate the shell? Mana.
“STEVE! How do we increase the physical influence of mana on solid matter?” He shouted at himself. “Increase the density of energy in a given area or increase the frequency!” He yelled back. How? Steve couldn’t supply any more mana to his machete while keeping stability. Increasing the frequency would also come at the cost of stability. The whole blade? Why am I wasting energy across the whole blade? Steve realized that he was only using a small portion of the blade of the machete. More specifically, the cutting edge. In desperation, Steve began to concentrate his mana along the sharp edge of the machete, forming a glowing line.
[Congratulations! You have unlocked [Aura II]
“Fuck off!” Steve yelled as he dismissed the message. In a last-ditch effort, he began to hack at the shell again. This time the machete sunk into the shell and sizzled against the organic material. The creature let out a guttural shriek in protest as it felt its shell get damaged. Steve hacked away, forming an X shape with the strikes on the shell. Gray metallic liquid began to fill the indentation in the shell. The creature bent down and Steve slipped forward on the shell, losing his balance. Before he could readjust, the creature violently jerked backwards and sent Steve flying.
Steve clutched the machete with white knuckles as his stomach sloshed around and he struggled to orient himself while experiencing weightlessness. The feeling didn’t last long as he was brought back to reality. He collided with the rocky ground flat on his back and the air was violently shoved out of his lungs. Pain exploded across his back as the rocky ground bore into him. Steve wheezed, chest bucking as he tried to breathe but his lungs would not listen. The young adult lay mangled 10 meters away from the creature. By some miracle, none of his limbs were badly injured, likely thanks to his increased physical capabilities. Steve forced himself to get up as burning pain clutched his entire torso. He took many short, ragged breaths, his broken ribs screaming in protest.
“I was so close,” Steve wheezed.
“SHUT UP!” Steve yelled at himself, revealing the cracks in his mental stability. It was the side not even Steve himself knew of. It was far too late to give up. Steve refused to be killed by such a godless and revolting life form. The adrenaline finally began to mask the pain. The creature clicked across the rocky ground with its many legs.
“F༙྇u༙྇c༙྇k༙྇ t༙྇h༙྇i༙྇s,” The creature mimicked Steve again, drawing closer with every click. Its feelers extended towards Steve as he stood his ground. He quickly picked up a rock and began to cast [Kovac Gun]. The creature picked up the brighter mana signature and quickened its pace toward Steve. Steve wasn’t going to die so easily though. A thunderclap filled the air as a bloom of blue bathed the world in cerulean. The rock whistled through the air faster than a bullet and tore through the knee joint of one spindly leg. The creature stumbled to the side as it lost the use of one leg and began to scramble toward Steve.
Steve did not have time to form a mana shield to use as a launch pad. Panting harder than ever, Steve realized he was left with only one choice. He sprinted at the creature and pushed all doubts from his mind. His entire plan was based on one gamble. He would use mana to strengthen his leg muscles and increase their rigidity and elasticity. Steve diverted the mana to his legs and began to concentrate it in his quadriceps and hamstrings, loading his legs like springs. Without another thought, Steve exploded upwards as he easily cleared four meters.
[Congratulations! You have learned Reinforce]
The many-legged monster jerked in surprise as the puny human was once again scrambling up its abdomen. However, this time Steve wasn’t so naive. Instead of hacking at the main shell, Steve opted for a more surefire way to cause permanent damage. He began to hack at the fleshy base of one leg with the concentrated edge of mana of his machete. Each strike burned and sizzled the raw flesh of the creature. It bucked and screamed, but Steve would not stop hacking away. Metallic blood splashed all over his face as the leg finally fell limp. Steve continued to the next leg with nine more legs to go.
“AAAH!” Steve roared as he chopped away at the creature’s legs while standing on its shell. To any observers, Steve would sound like an enraged homeless man tweaking on drugs, but he sounded incredibly badass in his head. He wedged his foot inside a gash he made with the machete which prevented it from throwing him off again. “Fuck you,” He wheezed between breaths as he hacked off his fourth leg. The creature could only watch with its long neck as Steve slowly hacked its body to pieces. The armored plates of its neck prevented it from reaching the boy. It hissed and mimicked every voice it heard, but nothing could convince Steve to end his onslaught.
Steve hacked off the last leg on the monster’s left side. The creature tumbled to one side, unable to hold its weight anymore. Steve fell with it but jumped off at the last second and avoided any injury. It hissed pitifully with its legs clicking against the ground. It dragged itself on the ground in a circle, its remaining five legs unable to properly carry it. Steve stood out of range of its legs and feelers and watched gleefully.
A twisted grin contorted Steve’s completely average features as he watched the creature shriek and thrash. The creature was disgusting and it deserved to suffer. He picked up a hefty grapefruit-sized rock and began to cast [Kovac Gun] again. This time he had as long as he needed to cast since the creature was immobilized. Steve poured as much mana as he safely could into the spell and covered his ears. Energy exploded out from behind the rock in a display of blinding blue light and a vapor cone briefly formed around the object as it was flung to supersonic speed. The shock wave let out a resounding pop that shook the ground. The rock barely left a blue streak through the air as it tore through the X Steve had carved into the carapace only minutes earlier.
[You have slain [Imitator, Lv. 5] +130XP]
[Level Up available]
Title Earned: Giant Killer Slay a monster with a level difference of four levels or greater. Increased resistance to fear +4% Strength
Relief filled Steve as the messages filled his vision, but it didn't last long. Steve needed to find a way out of the gate as soon as he could. The pain was dulling his senses and he couldn’t survive another imitator. Steve let out a deep shuttering cough and spat out a mouthful of mucus and blood.
[You are suffering from Mana Exertion]
[Permanent Tissue damage sustained] Mana pool locked at 1000MP