Mark tugged at the handle to his shovel, but instead of pulling free it merely dragged the small corpse attached to the end towards him.

He yelped and jumped back, tripping over the rubble. A loose stone under his boot gave way and he fell onto a knee.

“Fuck!” Mark gasped in horror at the bits of what was once a living person, which now coated his leggings. He leapt to his feet and scrapped at the gore, before his situation caught up with him.

Mark jerked to the side, shovel forgotten and stared at Zirrilit’s encased form. Concrete had ripped itself out of the structure of this building and curled around the deathworlder. Crushing the red beast in an all consuming ball of rock.

Her head and neck stuck out, he could see part of an arm poking out of the stone a few feet away.

He grabbed at her arm and pulled, but failed to shift the almost half ton deathworlder. Similarly the stone refused to budge from his meager effort.

Then he turned back to his shovel, a digging tool still half buried in his previous opponent’s head and returned to work.

Mark put his boot onto the gnome’s corpse and ripped his shovel free, bloody chunks launched onto the visor of Mark’s helmet.

His helmet should protect him from the same fate and Mark held a passing question on why the gnome wizard hadn’t had one. The corpse was wearing plain clothing much like what Mark had originally woken up in when he had first been transported to the hospital.

He choked down the bile that threatened to rise out of his throat and turned towards Zirrilit, her eyes were closed and she had slumped forwards giving him the impression that she was dead.

The human raised a shaking hand and felt at her face, searching for a sign of breath but felt nothing. He tugged at his thick glove and placed his bare palm onto her nostril without the thick chain coating his hand.

She was breathing.

It was shallow but definitely there.

He raised his shovel and jabbed it at the stone, making a shallow indent in the multiple feet of compressed stone. Mark twisted, raised his shovel like a baseball bat and then swung it into the concrete and succeeded in burying the tool sideways into the solid rock up to the shaft.

Mark gave it an experimental tug, then gripped it and threw his weight into pulling it out with a burst of gravel.

A shovel should not have carved into the concrete like that-

Mark looked between the shovel and the small indent he had made. If he only used it like a pickaxe he could… Spend hours mining at the rock. He glanced around warrily, suddenly conscious of how exposed he was. Standing in the middle of the hallway and mining into the stone in a place that had been a warzone mere minutes ago.

Where was Hans? Where was Niko? Were these assassins sent after her?

Why did they shoot at us?

Mark did not understand. He felt as lost as ever and wished that someone was here to tell him what to do. Even Core had vanished into the chaos when the hallway had detonated.

This land was alien, and he had no reference for what was normal or what he should do in most situations. One minute he was being told that the dungeons and general adventuring he went on was fake, the next minute they literally put Zirrilit into a cave that made her dodge falling boulders for training purposes.

In the back of his mind he questioned whether the assassination attempt was even real. Zirrilit was surely in danger but as to whether this was fabricated…

It was the second time those soldiers in black had attacked him and Niko being the key to a humanoid trafficking ring was purely something that they had told him. He had no evidence for or against these claims, it could just as easily be a front to see what his adrenal reaction was.

The same way that when they had questioned him about earth’s mythos and he discussed where he had heard of elves, they told him that adventuring guilds were real and those apparently were not.

Mark realized he had been standing in the open too long. He crouched behind some of the loose rubble from the destroyed hallway and stared down the long and dark corridor.

Some of the lights had gone out, the artwork had been burned. A long black trail of burning concrete stretched to the opposing wall. Dark doorways lined his right, concealing what may have been all manners of horrible monsters.

Like a person with a gun… Or an angry orc…

The list of things he rationally expected was not that long, though a man with a gun would be more of a threat than most things.

He closed his eyes and breathed for a moment, a foolish thing to do in a dangerous area but he recognized that he was reacting based on fear and confusion. Mark decided on his next action and stood, taking a single steady step forwards, then a second while readjusting his grip on his makeshift weapon.

Mark was eyeing the rows upon rows of doors, each one capable of concealing an enemy. Any of them could hide an assassin. He advanced as the hallway lights that remained flickered and threatened to die with every step.

Then he reached a specific room. To his left was a crumpled wall, its windows shattered.

Zirrilit had broken that wall bounding off of it at someone, shattering the windows and leaving fragmented concrete.

Sure enough there was a corpse, tall and thin with shredded remnants of armor barely clinging to their torn body. It resembled less a man and more a pile of shredded meat, looking like a canned melon that had once had a firework stuffed inside.

And then if someone had taken that mellon and slammed it through drywall with a sledgehammer. Only the drywall was concrete and that melon wasn’t really a melon at all…

Mark puked in his mouth, then pulled his mask up ever so slightly to drool it onto the floor.

He felt his breathing accelerate and fought against the telltale adrenaline that threatened to remove his control. Taking in slow breaths he forcefully calmed his system down.

And then he got to work, he sank onto his knees and pushed the chunks of flesh aside.

Back when Zirrilit had fought him the man had teleported away from her.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Mark had done some research while he was constrained to his bed and knew that the light emitted by teleportation was mostly ultraviolet.

And what little did appear was a bright fluorescent purple, he had seen enough of the fight from a covered doorway to know that the black clad guard had one particular part of his armor which stood out.

The human reached into the pile of gore and pulled out a mostly intact limb, the arms hadn’t been targeted by Zirrilit’s bull rush; it was the target’s skull and vital organs that had been crushed.

He ripped the thick violet bracer off of the arm and stood up so fast he nearly blacked out, but when he turned he saw a familiar face.

Hans glanced at the human, slumped against the wall opposite of the human. The orc’s massive arm had been nearly torn off and the previously dark green skin had been horribly burned. Cracked and blackened skin covered most of his face, along with any exposed flesh along his arms and chest. Angry welts threatened to burst and fluid was leaking from his wounds.

The orc gasped slightly, struggling to breathe and raised an arm.

Mark saw him point at a corpse, this one looking like one of the cat people from a game he had played as a child.

When you died in that game your character would sometimes ragdoll, twisting in every direction as their limbs reversed angles.

He had once thought that was unrealistic, now it seemed as though the corpse in front of him had no bones and someone had rung it out like a wet rag.

Mark glanced back at his nurse and saw the same finger pointing accusingly at the black armored cat-person. A glance back and Mark noticed the orc was pointing at something specific.

A black case attached to what remained of the man’s belt. It too lay undamaged, the most targeted area of the battered corpse seemed to be the upper torso.

That was the part of the body rendered unrecognizable.

He pulled at the case, before finding a small latch and opening the metal box to retrieve its contents.

A small vial fit into his palm alongside a rolled scrap of paper.

Mark went to open what he thought was an instructions manual and the orc let out a scream-

His lungs are damaged. Mark concluded. The orc sounds less like a person and more like a balloon failing to hold onto its air, a quiet high pitch screech like someone trying to talk after they lost their voice. Blood was gushing from his chest and more importantly the bleeding holes were bubbling, providing evidence that air was escaping his body.

The orc grabbed futilely at the air towards Mark and so the human put the scrap of paper and the vial into the nurse’s hand.

The human watched as he unrolled the scrap of paper, it suddenly bursting into flame startled him and before he caught himself he was readying himself to swing at his nurse.

At this point, Mark could easily kill him with nothing but a shovel. Where before the nurse had been overbearing, large enough to handle a human like a child and carried himself like a warrior but he was now on his last leg.

Metaphorically. Both of his legs were still attached. Mark noted.

The small flaming scrap of paper did seem to do something though. The blood gushing from his torso had ceased bubbling and he was now breathing loudly.

Then the orc took the thumb sized vial and downed it and the reaction captivated Mark.

He saw the caked blood and burnt skin fall off of the orc, revealing vibrant green skin underneath. The bright red liquid spurting out of his chest onto himself suddenly stopped, before suddenly reversing into the orc’s body. Strands of muscle coming together to reform the damaged structure it once was with the gaps suddenly sprouting more material from seemingly nowhere. The wounds were reknitting in a mockery of how Zirrilit’s uniform had repaired itself-

Zirrilit.

Mark stood and ran back into the hall, he sighted in on Zirrilit and then a green hand grabbed his shoulder.

He had gotten distracted. Mark needed to have the one person he could actively trust beside him.

“Mark, be careful. Do not run out into the open. We don’t know how many more there are.”

Mark swung around, ready to smash his shovel into-

Startled from the sudden contact Mark realized he was positioning to swing again before he paused and looked up to Hans.

“I need to get Zirrilit.”

Hans scanned the hall before replying. “She will be fine, her injuries will not result in death in the near future. Right now it is imperative that you remain safe until proper security forces can secure the area and provide proper medical assistance.”

“The security forces are shooting at us, Hans. We need to grab Zirrilit and then stuff a potion down her throat or something.”

“There is something wrong with the situation right now Mark.” Hans clarified. “That gnome was a civilian– or rather he was not a part of our staff. This style of attack closely resembles the style performed by covert intelligence or leadership type species. It is likely someone possessed an ability which allowed them to easily locate those they could convert with either money or-”

“So it's that rich asshole who Niko was supposed to rat on? The shady rich guy who’s probably good at manipulating others and planning stuff and using money?”

Mark shouldered his shovel.

“Mark when the standing army comes they may be attacking anyone who looks obviously armed. It is recommended that we hunker down for the next twenty minutes- Mark have we ever gone over active terrorism or workplace shooting drills- Mark please be reasonable-”

The human walked into the hallway, crouching slightly so as to not be easily seen through the windows on his right. He ran back towards Zirrilit before carefully maneuvering over the rubble to approach her limp form.

Mark pulled out the bloody, violet bracelet and tried to wrap it around Zirrilit’s free limb but found that the enchanted item was much too small.

Her forelimb was so much larger than what this had previously been wrapped around. The difference between a bodybuilder and a gymnast multiplied by their racial affinities.

Mark tried to put it around her finger but found her claw wasn’t shaped correctly and it left the bracelet dangling.

It was a puzzle, this bracelet seemed to be the key to teleportation which would free her.

The real question now was how he would put it onto her.

Her face was much wider than her arm.

“Mark, she will be fine. Her breathing is shallow but look-” Hans pointed, “The concrete around her chest has broken from her expanding chest. She made enough room for her to breathe and soon the army will intervene. It would be a bad idea to be out in the open if we end up with more people exchanging fire here.”

Mark ignored the orc and stared at her face, he reached out and grabbed her jaw.

Her muscles were lax and Mark easily opened her unlatched jaw.

“Wait don’t-”

The human stuck his arm into her mouth and grabbed her tongue, pulling it slightly out of her mouth.

“Mark if she bit down, even on reflex-”

He tried wrapping the bracelet around her tongue and stepped back, wondering how exactly he was supposed to turn it on.

Mark stepped back, before pulling her mouth open again and moving his face closer to see the bracelet.

“Mark, get your head out of her mouth right now.”

“I’m just going to-”

Hans seized the back of Mark’s shirt and ripped him backwards.

“Don’t put your head in a passed out deathworlder’s mouth you idiot.”

The human backpedaled, suddenly panicked at the angry orc screaming at him.

“She’s not going to bite me.” Mark crossed his arms.

“Unless she is passed out and reflexively bites down on whatever is suddenly in her mouth. You damn goblin- No this is my fault. I taught you how to shoot a rifle instead of proper triage and first aid techniques. She won’t die. Even if you ripped her heart out of her body she would undergo a self induced coma, many species of her caliber surviving as long as an hour while missing vital organs before lethal brain damage occurs.”

“Okay but she’s-” Mark sputtered.

“She’s fine. You on the other hand are in danger of being shot when a kill squad starts going from room to room looking for would be assassins. Or maybe assassins going from room to room pretending to be an allied kill squad.” Hans explained. “We need to be in a defensive position.”

“But if we have her than-”

A quiet voice interrupted both of them.

“So you are both just going to stand in the hallway loudly arguing and doing nothing?”

Mark jumped slightly and readied his shovel while the orc turned to face the new voice.

Niko stared at them both.

“So you are uh… not going to stop sticking your hands in her mouth?” She clarified.

The orc turned, grunted and physically restrained Mark.

“And you are just going to repeat the same phrase over and over, not helping but standing right in the middle of the hall, waiting to be shot anyway?” Niko complained. “If you had helped him figure out how to get her out you could be cuddling in the shower or whatever you wanted to do.”

Hans just sighed. Everyone always knew what to do better than the nurse. Not like he had been doing this for years or had a militant history or anything.

The harpy walked up to the human and held a clawed, bat-like wing out.

“Give the bracer to me.” She ordered.

Mark stuck his arm into her mouth again as Hans flinched, before he pulled the leather arm strap out and put it into Niko’s hand.

She wrapped it around her own arm, then put a wing onto Zirrilit’s face.

The harpy closed her eyes, the bracer was arcane in origin and possessed its own internal mana supply. She was somewhat experienced in arcane manipulation and was fully capable of ripping the mana out for her own use.

In theory she could use the same mana supply, copy the spell matrix and then apply it to a second party, rather than using the spell as it was designed.

Zirrilit and Niko suddenly flashed a bright purple and ended up ten feet down the hall. Zirrilit collapsing onto the floor and Niko standing triumphantly.

Hans crossed his arms. For all she talked about their failures she had neither given proper warning to the action nor worn proper safety gear.

They had been a foot or two from experiencing a clipping issue first hand, and as she had cast the spell herself rather than using the bracer it naturally would not have had the emergency stop functions all teleportation objects were required to have to prevent a clipping incident.

Mark looked excited about Niko’s success and he came to the obvious conclusion that it was likely her plan to look impressive for Mark while undermining the nurse’s reliability.

Teleportation without an emergency stop was a known and terrible idea. The fact that it had worked did not make it a good plan. In twenty minutes they could have simply had a group of hospital personnel medically evacuate her with no risk whatsoever.

“You know in a lot of human stories the heroes are known to be great at jury rigging tech they find-”

Hans sighed.