Days couped up in my flying tin can generate a different experience compared to similar trips in the past. The wind buffeting and turbulence at very low altitudes are stronger, but that is trivial to ignore. Instead, the largest difference comes from what I exude. Usually, any smell from me or any other system user is barely perceptible, even during times of stress, but this time several factors conspired together to make my body odor truly vile.
The situation is worse than usual and I have to wait for days. The system’s interference is fading from my body. It used to suppress the ‘negative’ sides of our biological functions making them less noticeable, but that is mostly gone. Being stuffed in such a small space simply amplifies it all to my acute nose.
Over a thousand perception points make the experience almost unbearable.
With the changes the system made to our bodies, even after days without a shower running and fighting, caked in blood and sweat only the barest of smells could be felt. Milder than most people before the system after an hour long run. But that suppression is gone for me.
Strangely, I’m happy about that. It’s not perfect for every circumstance, I do need to tune it correctly and hope I don’t run into a dog that can track by smell. But my gut was positively giddy at having another feedback avenue back. Different types of pain in the body let me know when I’m pushing too hard, different tastes gave me insight into the nutritional value of the food I ate. And smells, which are made up of thousands of chemical compounds released through my pores provide a robust layer of feedback.
I take one more breath before letting more air inside to clear out the smell. I shouldn’t allow myself to get too accustomed to this particular smell, otherwise, my brain would simply start filtering it out in the future and the very feedback I seek will be gone.
Finding a better intensity, I try to parse out what this smell tells me:
I’m not on a relaxing vacation to pick up recruits up in South America or the North Pole, instead of sending over hundreds of flying buses. No, I’m needed somewhere else and each second that I delay threatens disaster.
The enemy even managed to capture a second pyramid with a massive wave of reinforcements by surprising our side with more system shenanigans but that is where we stopped them.
So I need to get there as soon as possible.
During my trip, the end of the month had come and another batch of people arrived from the instance while the enemy got their stream of reinforcements.
Our attacks on the elves forced a higher mana expenditure and for the first time, we started to see their territory diminishing ever so slightly which encouraged us. But their defenses and the suppression in the huge area around their city forced us to move in and out to avoid exhausting our own forces.
Over the horizon, the pyramid's tops ‘pop out’ of the ground. The trip is nearly over and I don’t even bother with fancy maneuvers, simply waiting until I’m close enough before putting the craft back in the inner world.
I drop at a relatively slow speed compared to my flight and hit the ground at a speed that would have turned even my own strong bone structure before integration into broken glass. Now I only leave a pair of foot shaped indents in the hard-packed soil near the core of the enemy’s invasion.
“Nash,” says the general that came in the rocket with the first wave of reinforcements stepping out of the command ‘tent’. I turn to him while opening up hundreds of portals in strategic locations and let out the roughly 10 million reinforcements in the inner world out.
“Are you ready for an assault?” I ask, both as a real question and for the show as the inhabitants of the city look at me.
“Wait a minute. We appreciate all the help and we are going to attack, but the plans you came up with are incomplete.”
“You had three days since I started my flight. I only need a few hundred of my elites to rush the corridor in the Queen’s pyramid.”
The only decision I had to make was if I should risk going for the larger pyramid, where there is a higher failure change but with the larger number of people and the danger they would be exposed, the smaller one is probably a better alternative.
“I.. “ a few speechless people in their traditional garb. Simplified compared to the old turbans and nearly ceremonial clothing given the resilience we gained to heat, the sun and other environmental effects. But culture is a meaningful part of our heritage as humans and I can clearly see on that while not universal, plenty over here aren’t really ready for battle.
The very fact that they are any noncombatants just a hundred meters from the frontline just reveals that aspect of their mentality and for lack of a better framework, immaturity, but to be fair, they weren’t expecting their city to become part of the front lines any time soon if at all.
Not an ‘unforgivable’ mistake. That isn’t my place. But puts things in perspective.
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A minute before – Elite Egyptian melee fighter POV
I run out of my tent after hearing the thump against the ground. With the memory of rattling bones fresh in my mind, I look around until I spot the picture of power, wearing a root armor and talking with our leaders.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Nash.
We don’t have much of our old tech back and there are weird holes in the creature comforts we took for granted. But although the quirks that magic replacements allowed meant some very few had fully working electronics, pictures, and holographic interfaces are everywhere and I had seen him. In this new world, he is probably the most well know in person on the planet. The latest rising star. Even if only a tenth of his contributions are real, he is always gonna be remembered.
I feel the grass rustling my armor as it bends in his direction ever so slightly. Someone without context would dismiss it, but that aura thick with power and unreleased action warps the world around him even without him taking notice. He is like a mouse trap, but if anyone triggers it, it won’t sprain a finger, it will cut them off even if they are steel plated.
My arms heating up and getting ready for action at the mere thought of talking to him, but I don’t approach. I have nothing to say. Still, there is something more in the air, maybe it is always surrounding him, but I need to witness him in action. So I follow the group he selects to assault the Queen’s pyramids the enemy took over.
His aura thickens up as he focuses on his actions, maybe the Aether I heard about, maybe something else. It concentrates and shifts in nature. A sharper aura that is ready to cut ending any problem that arises. Ready to fix our mistake of assuming the enemy is limited in its tricks.
I can almost feel my thoughts being influenced in his wake, but I just follow behind, ready to lend my support should it be needed as the orders go around the camp.
This smaller pyramid only has a single entryway and it is now significantly different compared to a week ago.
The near ruin that had been missing half its stone was restored by the system. Not completely, as there is no smooth white limestone covering, but the foundation matches the best recreations of the original our archeologists and engineers came up with. He approaches it slowly and steps up to the only entrance, before beginning to grow thousands of roots from his own armor. Having read about his technique and approximations that a few of the more talented nature mages could do with faux inner worlds gives me a little more context for the source of that mass, but it is still an impressive display.
He bounces on the balls of his feet, pulsing his muscles from resting position to flying a couple of feet in the air each time. If he extended his feet all the way even without involving his knee he could jump insane heights, but he gradually limits his range of motion until it is only a few millimeters long while he still bounces about a meter high.
Then as if they had coordinated that action a thousand times, his next bounce is much faster heading to the entry of the corridor followed by his backup. Using all his range of motion, he rushes the entry of the corridor faster than any sprinter, even with the system.
His fist crashes against the outer shield of the corridor.
Each punch glows with power, though I can tell that it is not from any skill that melee classes tend to have, instead, he uses something that isn’t mana while punching the shield over and over.
A rhythm forms as roots around him work on and attacks fly at that narrow corridor, only wide enough for a single human to fight in.
But it is not the rhythm of a song, but a high speed metronome. That’s at least 6 or 7 punches each second with perfectly smooth form and each one could blow holes through mere steel doors if they were using common materials. His feet are glued to the ground and each blow only grows stronger reaching even beyond my best with minutes to prepare.
My meager mana senses can’t directly feel the shield strain, nor the recharge rate, but the places he punches down don’t simply change colors, from transparent to whitish as in the first few seconds. Each punch leaves deeper and deeper indents until damage fully outpaces repair. The enemy's shield falls into a vicious cycle. The cracks widen and Icertanty of success arrives. The elves inside keep attacking him through the shield but Nash’s own shield manages to protect him against the attacks from the couple of magic users that can attack in the narrow corridor.
That shield must be from the system, otherwise, I would feel the river of mana rushing to replenish it. The mana input must be in the central room, while the system takes care of the rest. The elven druids give way to a sword fighter who chops at Nash’s hand probably hoping to delay him or even force a retreat to give them the time to come up with a better defense strategy. Even half an hour might be enough to give them a breather. The shield locks his fist in place. If he simply relaxes his fist he would be able to slide right out. Maybe he wants to use the interface to directly take it down.
Instead, he seems to not do anything. Holding completely still until the very last moment, when he twists his forearm with a pulse of his resources and manages to pinch the sword between his fingers in a fluid and precise motion.
He’s in control. There is no doubt that he could have done that a thousand times in a row without losing a finger.
A flick of his wrist disarms the surprised fighter and a moment later the enemy is left bleeding with his own sword used against him. Nash pushes Qi out and a concussion wave blasts the shield, then another and another. Attacked in such a way, the shield isn’t nearly as strong and in mere seconds it falls entirely.
I simply watch in awe while on the edge of the formation and get ready even as a few others enter right behind Nash, who mows down the enemy with relative ease.
The internal defenses start to activate in earnest and Nash’s own defenses are put to the test.
Not the pathetic workings of the 5 Druids that can reach him or the child like swing of a nodled arm elves when compared to Nash’s strength, but the defenses that could force even our most advanced weaponry back.
If we were willing to trade lives for lives, we might have been able to hold our assault at least this smaller pyramid and eventually take it back, but after we retreated, they managed to erect this shield. If they didn’t have as many reinforcements as they could fit inside the pyramid's central chamber, which for the elves after their construction of several levels seemed to be around 10 thousand for the larger pyramid and a couple hundred over here. But those numbers are nearly instantly replaced through portals each time an elf dies. We have recreated videos of those portals in action. Courtesy of Nash’s seeds who have been scouting the enemy since they captured the pyramid.
Now the enemy has no escape nor more tricks to pull, not against Nash simply mowing them down amidst a sea of magma, fire, lightning and other exotic types of energy. He bathes in it like he is walking through the rain. He closes his eyes to avoid the occasional splash and he holds his backpack close to his body to avoid wetting the papers inside, but he is on a mission and won’t be stopped by something as simple as deadly attacks.
His hands punch, twist and fold before he pulls his staff out to use a spell and instantly the staff is back in his inner world. A cycle that repeats a thousand of times. His staff may have good magical bonuses, but it's simply too unwieldy for combat in the narrow space.
It’s only a matter of time before breach the enemy is driven out.
Nash disappears from my view as he gets too deep in the corridor, but I know in my heart that what I witnessed will be replicated until there isn’t anyone standing against him.