Chedderfield

“So . . . you ready, hermano?” Chedderfield asked as he and Archimedes quietly climbed down the south wall of the base with the sirrušu.

“Yeah, I hit level 8, and with those extra slots, I decided to modify some of my abilities with the new cards,” Archimedes said. “I picked the damage-over-time upgrade for Fire Breath, so it should give you a nice twenty-two-second window to Acid-Breath them for the combustion effect.”

“That’s not what I meant. You talk things out with Luce? I saw Nguyen going back there with you two and . . .” Chedderfield was going to press the question, but he could tell his friend didn’t want to talk about it. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“It wasn’t. We’re fine. As long as I make it back okay, we’ll stay fine,” Archimedes replied.

“You could have brought her, you know? There are plenty of Meat Slam cards in the pile we looted. She could have easily taken one, leveled it up, and been good for this upcoming battle.”

“Chedderfield, you know we’re probably going to die, right?” Archimedes said as they flew across the ground, running low beside the coral wall to mask their travel around the base. “I can be honest at least with you, right?”

“Way to build up some confidence,” Chedderfield laughed. “We’re going to be fine, hermano. It can’t be that bad. We’ve faced worse before, right?”

“We almost died against monsters that weren’t even half as intimidating as the one we’re off to kill. If even one of us makes it back alive, I’m going to count it as a win,” Archimedes answered, but his somber words did not match his somewhat chipper tone.

“If you’re so certain we’re going to die, then why are you sounding so damn happy?” Chedderfield asked, further pestering his friend as the six of them—the four sirrušu, Archimedes, and Chedderfield—continued to sneak past.

“Because it’s going to be fucking fun,” Archimedes admitted with a laugh as they reached the northeast corner of the coral wall, leapt over, and raced to the closest copse of trees, several hundred feet away. “Can you imagine the odds? No human on earth is going to be fighting a battle like we’re about to fight. Don’t tell me that doesn’t get your blood pumping with excitement.”

Chedderfield, who liked a good fight as much as the next guy, was still somewhat shocked, so he just kept quiet as the group reached the treeline safely, using the trees to block the view of the hell-cursed army north of the base as the group traveled to the army towards the west.

“I unlocked the Pyromancer class using all that fire, and Flesh of My Flesh recently bumped me up to 16 mind, so with the level 8 bonus, I can equip 5 skills, so I’ve upgraded my skills and thrown a new one into the mix.”

“A new one?”

“Yeah. I’m running the usual Undead Delight, Leap Rush, Fire Breath—which is silver now—and Extra Stiff, but I also kept this card and upgraded it for myself: Holy Shield,” As Archimedes talked about the skill, he loaded up the card for Chedderfield to read the stats.

Holy Shield [Retribution]

Current Classification: Silver

Current Level: 01

Ability: No enemy can touch you with melee attacks for 4.25 seconds. Cooldown: 7.5 minutes

Retribution: 1/3rd of all health lost during skill usage will be dealt as damage to individuals within a 10-foot radius of the user at the end of skill duration.

“Retribution? You damn hit-point sponge, are you planning on killing me with that too?” Chedderfield laughed. “Going for a group wipe if you die?”

“You better just keep us topped on health then, Mister Healer,” Archimedes replied. “‘Cause if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me.”

“So Extra Stiff to slow down bosses, Holy Shield to stop the boss from hitting you at least once, Fire Breath to kill the weak side monsters, and Undead Delight to stay topped up on health. You’ve planned this out, haven’t you?” Chedderfield remarked. “That’s great. I’m going Acid Breath to combo your Fire Breath and Bisect to finish the bastard off. I’d throw in another skill too, but that fucking Flesh of My Flesh. So damn annoying!”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Well, either way, it’s going to be so fun,” Archimedes replied. “A real blast.”

“Did you lose a screw or two on that other world? When did you turn into a battle junkie?”

“It’s not about being a battle junkie. It's about victory. It’s about doing what—”

“Nope. No speeches. Stick to the battle stuff. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to have one of your damn half-time speeches be the last thing I hear,” Chedderfield objected. He was going to go into more detail, but he was cut off by Brighteyes extending her spear and blocking his path. It only took a moment for him to realize why she had done it: they had reached the hell-cursed.

Chedderfield looked out from the treeline of the forest they hid within, anxious to see the army up close. The hell-cursed stood like a grisly parade of the undead. Their physical forms were a grim parody of their former lives, as if they had been taken and horribly warped to suit some unknown purpose. Most of the army were the zombie type they’d faced since the beginning of the apocalypse, but mixed in were weird spider-like conscriptors with exposed brains that were far too large for their bodies, and others had limbs twisted and contorted in ways that seemed impossible. There were even piles of misshapen flesh that moved as one entity. As eerie as it was, all the creatures were lined up in formation, none of them moving, breathing, or even swaying a single inch with the wind. They were just standing there like marble statues, gross, decaying, flesh-shaped marble statues in filthy clothes.

“You think, even if they can hear us, they have a way to report it to the boss?” Chedderfield whispered his question to Archimedes as the two of them began creeping along the side of the army, trying to stay just out of reach and range of the minions. They had only just reached the front enemy, and they still needed to make it all the way to the back of the force.

“No idea, but I’d rather not test to see which parts of the zombie work and don’t at the—” Archimedes stopped short as the stiff undead soldiers to their left began to move all at once in perfect formation as if guided by some unseen conductor. The sudden movement of thousands and thousands of creepy monsters all at once was absolutely terrifying.

“Crap, why are they moving?” Chedderfield asked as he looked behind him, in the general direction of the army that was supposed to meet up with this one, the one that was heading toward the base from the north.

“I don’t know. The real question is, why are they headed toward the base? Shouldn’t they be veering off to kill Brad? That’s what should happen. I’m sure of it.” Archimedes asked. Chedderfield almost laughed out loud but stopped himself.

“I’m just worried it means that Brad’s people haven’t moved in yet, and the insectoids and dvixians aren’t making their move yet either. I don’t want the base to be swarmed, we need to reach the boss. I wish we could just see what the hell is going on,” Chedderfield complained, hating that the only information he had was the movement of zombies on his left.

They continued to race through the forest, the lizardwomen practically flying over the ground, leaping over fallen trees and even bouncing off still standing ones as they traveled. Archimedes mimicked them, but Chedderfield could tell that despite their rapid leveling, there was still a physical disparity between the two of them and the aliens. For once, since gaining so many points in strength and constitution, he felt a little underpowered.

The hell-cursed army blurred as they traveled, like a great field of wheat that was in the periphery while driving down the highway. Then the group reached the end of the forest.

“Do you see it?” Archimedes asked in a whisper.

“Where?”

“There, just at the end of the army. That big gap where none of the other hell-cursed seem to want to go?”

Chedderfield looked at what Archimedes pointed at. The creature was tall and lean, and even from a distance, he could tell the creature exuded an aura of strength and power. His long white hair was pulled back behind him, revealing two pointed horns growing from his skull. He wore black leather armor over his torso though it seemed to move as if it were alive.

“Is that him? Should we go? Can we kill the bastard already?” Chedderfield asked as he pointed at the only person in the entire group who could possibly be the zombie general. From the way he was standing, flanked by two conscriptors, who seemed to move and turn with him like they were his shadows, to the way he carried himself to the fact that none of the other zombies would get close to him, he had to be the boss. He had to be the one that they were meant to kill.

Hearing the lizardwomen let out hisses as they crouched and watched the army intently with him, he thought that he wasn’t the only one ready to jump on the bad guy and murder the general as quickly as possible.

However, Archimedes, looking at the general for a minute, just shook his head. “Not yet,” Archimedes said in a low, barely audible voice. “If we jump in now, we might die to his underlings before we ever get our chance.”

“Fine. But the second an opening appears, I say we take it,” Chedderfield grumbled. He didn’t disagree with what Archimedes said—he could see the scores of zombies blocking their route to the boss—but the anxiety of facing off against such a monster was wracking his nerves.

Turning to the four lizardwomen, he saw them watching the army from the shadows of the trees, their eyes sharp and vigilant. Hot Sauce produced a handful of dried meat from a pouch around her neck. She passed it around, and the others eagerly snapped it up. They huddled close, their hisses and croaks echoing softly.

Archimedes chuckled and then turned to Chedderfield. “They said something like ‘Hurry Up and Wait’.”

Then all hell broke loose.