“So let me get this straight, you ain't never shot a gun before and you're comparing video game experience to it” George says in a disbelieving tone.

“What? I still know the important rules. Like red means dead, and point it away from people. Besides, did you have any experience before this?” I clap back while taking the gun out of Robert's hand.

“Don’t forget, always assume it's loaded, even when it's not. This isn't like a video game, VR or not. You don't get a crosshair or laser sight, you either have to eyeball it or aim down the sights. But don't try eyeballing it, you will miss. The gun has weight and it will kick when you shoot it. Until you get used to it, don't try to shoot quickly, all you will end up doing is wasting ammo and risk hitting something, or someone, you're not aiming for.” Robert says in a serious tone.

“Got it. So Karen said they smashed the shield, but we got double troubled?” I reply, carefully examining the gun and making sure not to accidentally point it at anyone. Safety is already on, it’s loaded, but I don’t think it's chambered yet. I find the magazine release and press it, dropping the full mag into my waiting hand and confirming it does in fact have bullets. Twenty, if the dots on the side are to be believed, before reloading the mag back into the grip with a satisfying click.

“That's one way of putting it. Building is unstable, the blast that knocked the first shield down also knocked over half the city. We're lucky we didn't go down as well.” Robert says, pointing out the window.

And a quick glance reveals just how much destruction occurred from the last blast. Something is obstructing the sun, throwing the city into darkness. But three massive pillars of white light originating from the cultist camp throw plenty enough illumination to see parts of the city. What was once recognizable as a city is now dark, dust obscured, devastated wasteland befitting the catastrophe that has occurred here. Most of the skyscrapers are gone, fallen in on themselves or fallen over, further spreading the dust and destruction where they fell. Some of the slightly newer buildings look to have survived, but not without damage, as large swaths of windows and parts of the building faces can be seen broken even from a distance. Hell, one tower is visibly leaning, seemingly threatening to further increase the devastation if the breeze were too much as blow wrong.

The one saving grace, through the dust clouds I can vaguely make out the shape of a shattered building that crashed through part of the cultist camp. Unfortunately, said camp seems to be in working enough order to keep fucking our day, judging by the three blazing pillars of milky white light shooting up into the sky. A quick look to said sky reveals that the old see-through shield has been replaced by a milky white dome projected by the three pillars meeting at its peak. Its surface seems to be constantly mixing in on itself before bubbling out again in a weird manner, the whole thing giving off an eerie vibe.

“Holy shit, did they drop a fucking nuke on us? And what's up with that spoiled milk looking shit, is that the second shield?” I ask, caught off by the sheer scale of the destruction outside.

“It might have been, the explosion was… very bright, almost blinded us. And yes that spoiled milk looking barrier popped up shortly after the shield shattered. The good news is we're pretty sure those pillars supporting it are coming from those three crystals they were feeding before.” Robert replies.

“How is that good news?” I ask.

“Because those are a hell of a lot more reachable than whatever was buried in the bunker. Plus with all the chaos we might be able to slip in even without disguises.” Greg replies.

“Yea, I’m still of the opinion we should stay away from the cultist camp. Especially now, who knows how angry they are now?”

“Angry or not, they’re definitely more vulnerable than before. Still, Lucy is right. They've gotten through the first shield so odds are they will find a way through this one. Because one of the key points of an emergency backup is that it is always smaller than the primary.” Robert says confidently.

“So now our objective is to stay safe and wait it out. Which means getting out of this building and somewhere we won't get crushed, shot, or turned into one of those things.” He continues.

“Uhh, not to rain on our ray of hope but I don't think there are any places like that left in the city, Robert.” George replies.

“Toby should be finishing up packing our food, Karen please go help him with the bags, then meet at the stairwell. Lucy, think you can carry the other gun bag since you're the strongest here?” Robert asks me, ignoring George's comment and gesturing to the bag on the table near George.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Yea, I guess.” I reply, walking over to pick up the bag as Karen heads out to help Toby. George shoots me a glare but doesn't say or do anything else as I zip the duffel bag closed and throw it over my shoulder.

With that we head out towards the front. Waiting for us are Sara and Seymore, who seem to be in some sort of debate with Sara now holding the shotgun. They quickly break it off as Seymore addresses Robert.

“Son, you and the rest go on ahead. I'm not quick as I used to be between my bummed leg and hip replacement. I’ll just slow you down too much.” He says, sounding like he’s already accepted his fate.

“We are not leaving you here Seymore, even if we have to go a little slower. Worst case, one of us carries you. Me, Toby, George, or Lucy should be able to handle it.” Robert replies.

Moments later Toby and Karen come out of the hallway that leads to the Kitchenette in a rush, each with a bulging backpack on their backs and several bags in each hand.

“Hey, we need to go, like now! There was a crack visibly spreading across the ceiling while we were packing.” Toby says, the urgency clear in his voice as he emphasizes the word visibly.

“Alright let's go then. Sara trade with me, I'll take point. Lucy behind me, Sara, Karen, Seymour, and Greg in the middle. Toby, George you two being up the rear.” Robert commands, taking the shotgun from Sara while giving his pistol to Seymore. Throwing open the door to the stairwell, we all rush to follow him in order.

The stairwell isn't much better than the floor we were on. It's almost pitch black due to being closed off from the rest of the building aside from a few rays peeking through damaged doors further down. At Least until Robert flipped on the flashlight on the shotgun. The new blast of light revealed the battered stairwell. Cracks ran along the walls and across the floors. In a few places rebar was visibly bent and forcibly protruding from the concrete. The second landing on our way down was crooked, and I'm honestly a little concerned as we reach it. Robert orders us to cross the landing one at a time to minimize the risk, and thankfully nothing happened. Well, nothing relating to the landing. We're only about a third of the way down before Seymore has a problem. Of course it's not him who speaks up, he seems to be too determined, instead suffering down the stairs with labored breathing.

“Hold on, I think Seymore needs a break.” Karen says, trying to reach back and help support the man who is struggling down along the hand rail.

“I’m fine, just my arthritis acting up…. I can keep going, been through worse.” He replies between labored steps, but not rejecting her assistance.

“We can't stop here, the building could drop on us at any moment. Once we are outside and away we can work something out.” Robert says as we pass a fairly prominent crack in the concrete running up the wall.

Seymore gets one more step before his legs give in and he stumbles forward, almost going tumbling down the stairwell. Thankfully he’s able to hold onto the handrail and Karen catches him, just barely keeping standing.

“Robert, he can't go any further like this!” Karen protests.

Without missing a beat Robert looks over his shoulder to me. “Lucy, do you think you can do anything to keep him moving? Even temporarily?” He asks me.

“Uh, no idea. I might be able to heal him?” I say, somewhat questioning myself if I’m able to do it. Healing is so new to me I haven't exactly been able to test it, or even really read up on it much. Obviously things like cuts, bruises, etc would get healed. But age related shit or arthritis, I have no idea if those are within regular healing spells purview, or even heal able at all. The description for minor heal doesn't mention anything but bruises, and minor cuts and scrapes. Would it even recognize arthritis as damage that needs to be healed? Fuck it, worth a shot I guess.

Despite me wanting to save mana I spin up a minor healing spell, better to try keep the group moving then bitch about the cost. The green light slowly growing in size enough to illuminate the stairwell. Once it's complete I step just in range of the old man leaning on the railing, releasing the small green orb and willing it to target him. The spell listens, whisping over the just under five foot gap between us and softly colliding with the old man. Upon contact it seems to seep in, before disbursing in a wave across his body as the glow fades. Instantly I see the silhouette of the old man standing slightly firmer in the dark, but seemingly still leaning on the railing for support.

“Better?” I ask.

“Slightly, I think I can keep going for a bit.” Seymore replies.

“Can you heal him again?” Karen asks, concern for the old man evident in her voice.

“No, I need to save the mana just in case. If he slows down again then I’ll use another one….. But in the meantime let's try this.” I say, remembering the healing crystal still currently floating around me. My wounds should be long healed, at least the ones it can heal. So might as well try to put it to better use than idling around me.

I reach out to the crystal, connecting to it as naturally as moving my own fingers. With a quick thought and a glance I reassigned it to Seymore, the old man starting to push off the railing and regain his footing. Instantly I feel its effects on me vanish, but the connection remains. It lazily drifts over to the old man, before taking up a rotation around him similar to the mana crystal’s one around me.

“Oh, that feels…… better.” He comments, starting to move once again on his own.

“Good, let's keep going.” Robert says, turning to continue leading us down the stairs.

I can help but catch glimpses of the others as I turn back around. Reactions are mostly a mix of awe and respect. Except for George, who is now somehow scowling harder than before…. Because of course that asshole is. I just really hope they don't try going to pin hopes and dreams on me or something. I just got this shit and have no idea what I’m doing.

We continue our descent towards the bottom floor, nothing but the rhythmic stomping of our own feet echoing around the stairwell and the seemingly eternal darkness only broken by the various flashlights people have pulled out. Unfortunately the darkness isn't the only thing we have to worry about. The closer we get to the ground, the thicker the dust gets, and soon enough we reach the bottom. The stairwell door is visibly bent along with the frame, with the window in the center smashed out, allowing a torrent of dust to visibly pour through and diffuse into the stairwell.

“Everyone, find something to cover your mouths with.” Robert says as he grabs the door handle and braces a foot against the wall. He gives a hard tug, and then another, but the door is firmly wedged in place. Before he can ask, because I know he will, I slip around him and grab the handle and yank as hard as I can. The door gives way with a resounding screech of protesting metal, followed by a snapping sound as the handle breaks off. But the door is open just enough for me to get my fingers around it and wrench it open the rest of the way, causing even more ear splitting noise as it scrapes along the floor and a torrent of dust floods in.