Chapter 132 – The Turtle Job.
Jack stared at his stat page trying to decide where to spend his free points.
Statistics / Quests / Tower Store / Achievements / Blessings
Name: Jack Atlas
Race: Human Ascendent [Rare] [+4 SP per level]
Floor: 1st Floor
Level: 15
Class: Executioner [Epic] [+5 Str, +3 End, +3 Vit, +3 Dex per level]
Core Type: [Error: No Core detected]
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Stats —
Strength: 30 - [Adept - High]
Endurance: 23 - [Adept - High]
Vitality: 18 - [Adept - High]
Dexterity: 106 – [Adept - High]
Focus: 23- [Adept - High]
Willpower: 53 - [Novice - Low]
Free Skill Points: 4
Achievement Points [AP]: 732,435
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Abilities [5/5] —
Lightning Centipedes Bite [Uncommon, Novice - Low] [Error: No Core detected]
Storm Step [Rare, Novice - Low] [Error: No Core detected]
Lightning Engine [Legendary Epic, Journeyman - Low] [Error: No Core detected]
Chain Lightning [Rare, Novice – Low] [Error: No Core detected]
Final Strike [Epic, Novice – Low] [Error: No Core Detected]
----------------------------------------
Passives —
Multiverse Common Tongue [Non-Upgradable]
Storm Stance of the Lightning Centipede [Rare, Adept - High]
Sneak [Uncommon, Novice-Low]
Mana Condenser [Rare] [Incomplete]
Mana Channels of the Transcendent Berserker [Epic]
Throwing Weapons [Common, Adept – High]
Mortal Wounds [Passive, Rare]
Blood Scent [Passive, Rare]
It had been over a year at this point since he had gotten a level up. Part of his dominance on the first floor had been in large part due to the fact that he was one of the few people on the floor who actually had a rare class. Class rank was tied to how many different attributes received points upon level up. Jack had the rare hitman class, earning him points in three different attributes. The vast majority of people had common rank classes, which meant they only had one attribute affected. Effectively, he was getting three times as many stat points as everyone else for his rare class. He used to think everyone just really sucked, but he was starting to appreciate that he had been exceptionally lucky having a rare class from level one. Now he had an Epic class, and all the more stats for it. Jack focused on the Executioner class to go over it one more time.
Class: Executioner - Epic
Every step the Executioner takes echoes with the weight of finality. The Executioner acts as a relentless force cutting through the fabric of existence, delivering the ultimate sentence without remorse or hesitation.
+5 Strength per level
+3 Endurance per level
+3 Vitality per level
+3 Dexterity per level
Fourteen points per level from his class alone. He had asked at one point if there was any determination for how many points you could actually get. Apparently, there wasn’t any sort of breakdown. Not all classes were created equal. Some were more stat heavy while others weighted abilities and passives more highly, its variance was really all over the place because the Tower really liked to alter and customize everything for Climbers, often giving them tools they don’t even realize they’ll need. Jack wasn’t sure he liked that idea very much. Especially considering he had a major bone to pick with it and threatened to destroy it every chance he got. Still, the Tower didn’t seem to be shorting him at all or screwing him over in retaliation.
This is why he had been staring at his stat screen for so long trying to figure out how to spend his points. Jack had always spent his points on Dexterity because, well, he liked moving fast. More than one person had informed him that was a stupid idea and the importance of having a balanced build. Jack wasn’t so sure he agreed, seeing as how he came out on top in pretty much every situation he had ever been in, largely in part due to his overwhelming speed.
His Executioner class seemed to place a lot of priority on Strength. Jack supposed that made sense if he thought about executioners with their massive axes lopping off heads in a single swing. You needed to be strong to do that. As much as he disliked the class name, the concept of the Executioner resonated with him. One shot, one kill. His speed did seem to be unmatched on the second floor so far at least, but his Strength was definitely starting to feel lacking. Only through intense concentrated effort and technique could he land any sort of devastating blow, much less executing his target entirely. How much more deadly could he be if he had the strength to back up his speed? Was that what the Tower was trying to tell him?
Jack put the four points into Strength, bringing him up to thirty-four. He didn’t like to get too overly concerned with creating the perfect build like a lot of climbers seemed paralyzed by, and just opted to do what felt natural. The Tower wanted him to be strong, and he felt like he needed the Strength, so he would just keep pumping it up until he had enough. Might even go for a hundred like he did with Dexterity, but that all depended on if he remained faster than everyone really.
With his stat page taken care of Jack looked up at his next pressing concern. The quest board. As he learned earlier, whoever controlled the sector was responsible for creating quests. The Painted Shell tribe wasn’t bothering with any of that meaning there weren’t any quests for anyone to do in this sector. What did appear on the quest board, and every quest board for that matter, was bounties. Jack grimaced as he ripped off another bounty issued by the city.
Wanted: Jack Atlas
Condition: Dead
Wanted for illegal entry into Broken Moon City and the killing of an Arbiter.
Sponsor: Mayor Mortimaxx
Reward: 1,500,000 AP
He glanced around suspiciously at the camp. No one seemed to pay much attention to the quest board because there weren’t any quests, but he wasn’t sure what they would do if they saw he had a bounty on his head. He didn’t think they would kill him outright, but it was hard to say. He still didn’t have a good read on the Golden Scale and their motives. For now, he was stuck awkwardly hovering around the quest bored and ripping down his wanted poster when it reappeared every few hours. His real concern though was Hannah. She is not going to be happy about this, Jack grimaced.
“What’s that?” Jack glanced down to see Nutt pulling at the crushed up bounty in his hand.
“This,” Jack said, pulling off another bounty from the quest board as it reappeared and handing it to the little goblin. Jack wasn’t the only one with a bounty on his head. Nutt had played a vital role in killing the Arbiter after all.
“I’m wanted? DEAD!?” Nutt went wide eyed as he read over his bounty, his voice dripping with disbelief.
“Maybe don’t scream that out loud,” Jack said, glancing around nervously. “I’d like not to have to fight our way out of here.”
Nutt crumpled up the bounty slip and ate it, choking it down with a few coughs.
“Evidence destroyed,” his eyes went narrow, and he glanced around the camp suspiciously.
“Did you get everything you needed?”
“No.” Nutt pouted. “Didn’t have anything I needed. Had to get… creative.”
“So what did you get?” Jack narrowed his eyes at the goblin.
“Enough to make this,” Nutt pulled out a bright orange potion vial and presented it to Jack.
Unstable Thermic Fuel
Tier: Rare
Type: Reagent
Fuels a violent thermic reaction.
*****
Product of Nutt.
“You made this?” Jack asked, a little impressed. So far, he wasn’t sure Nutt was the master alchemist he claimed to be, but the goblin had managed to produce a rare item, so that had to count for something.
“Yes,” Nutt’s nose tilted upward in pride.
“I told you we need acid though, not fire. Is this supposed to be thermite or something?”
“I have to mix the acid on site. If it goes wrong here, it’ll get complicated.” Nutt’s eyes went suspicious again.
Well this should be interesting, Jack mused.
“Ok, what about the knockout gas? You said you could make that?”
“I’ve managed to make the gas, but I’m still working on the knockout part. Would you be ok with knock down gas maybe? Or I could make everyone really dizzy for a bit! How about itchy? Would itchy gas work?” Nutt asked.
“Just figure it out. You can theorize on the way there.”
“We’re leaving now?”
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“No time like the present,” Jack turned to intercept an approaching snake.
Zeth had been trying to get Jack to join the Golden Scale ever since he showed up. By now he had been propositioned by the snake man three times over. Their recruiting tactics felt a little aggressive, if not desperate, and Jack had just recently found out why. They were making a play to take over the sector as well. Jack had overheard a conversation about some reinforcements that we’re making their way here from the second sector. He needed to be in control of it before that could be allowed to happen. It wasn’t necessarily that he had any issue fighting against the Golden Scale. In fact, he was sort of looking for a reason to start killing them off just to fuck with Gideon, but he needed to hold off on that. At least for now.
Jack figured that if he was in control of the sector first then that would put the Golden Scale in a difficult spot, seeing as how their whole motto is to “protect humanity”. If they managed to take the sector first and Jack showed up and killed them all, then the optics on that probably wouldn’t be great. He was going to need some degree of cooperation on the floor if he wanted to take it over entirely, and he had already ruined relations with the summer elves and had a bounty on his head from the city. He didn’t want to deal with the Golden Scale on top of everything.
I really need Hannah here. This thinking shit sucks, Jack thought, a headache forming.
“Hey Zeth, we’re going to head on out of here.” Jack said to the snake who managed to look properly dejected.
“Are you sure? I’m not supposed to say anything but it’s about to get… quite exciting” the snake hissed, a glimmer in his eye. “If you stay and help I can all but assure the Golden Scale will reward you.” Zeth gave his final pitch.
“Oh really? Going to make a play for the sector?” Jack asked.
“Yes.” The snake hissed, a little surprised Jack had so easily guessed. “Reinforcements should be here any day now. I’m even told they have a surefire strategy for breaking through the Tortuga’s defenses.”
Jack nodded, confirming what he already knew. This just made it official.
“Well good luck to ya.” Jack held out his hand, and Zeth stared at it for a long second before accepting it.
“Very well…” he hissed, “I can’t offer you much since you aren’t a member, but at least let me give you a team to escort you to the fight sector gate?” he offered.
“No need,” Jack said, “I already had some of your scouts show me around. Me and Nutt can manage from here.”
“I wish you luck then.” Zeth just nodded, releasing his hand and slithering past Jack toward the quest board. Jack noticed another bounty pop up on the quest board and grimaced.
“Time to go,” he grabbed Nutt by the scruff and threw him onto his shoulders and made his way towards the gate.
“Hey! Ask first!” the goblin complained as he latched on to Jack’s back.
“Uh, excuse me sir, this is the wrong gate. You’ll want to go to the north gate to reach sector five.” One of the guards stepped up and tried to redirect Jack.
“Oh don’t worry. I’m taking the scenic route. Want to get some extra training in before I head to sector five.”
“All right then,” the guard gave him a confused expression but gave in quickly. “Open the-“
Before the guard could get the command out Jack jumped off the wall and into the air, jumping past the makeshift wall and landing on the rooftop of one of the crumbling houses outside. The streets below were packed with lumbering zombies and Jack could spot several packs of ghouls leaping from one rooftop to another out in the distance.
He really had done some scouting with some of the archers, even going so far as to help them rescue a stranded group of adventurers surrounded by zombies. What he learned was that this sector wasn’t all that dangerous. You just had to keep moving. If you stopped for any length of time, you’d find yourself surrounded by a horde of zombies and ghouls. Beyond that, you just had to keep moving.
Jack pushed off the roof and started running. His target was somewhere in the east of the city. He tried to get the scouts to show him but they had all stated it was too far, roughly a five hour trip.
It took Jack about one hour.
He could have done it faster but he had to stop several times because Nutt kept spilling chemicals that burned like a motherfucker all over him.
“You’re the one who told me to figure it out on the way there!” Nutt screamed in protest when Jack dangled him over the ledge for a horde of zombies to eat.
Finally, the two reached their destination, Jack with most of his skin still intact. The zombies grew in intensity, packed so dense in the streets below that you couldn’t see the ground beneath them. The houses whose rooftops he jumped across became fewer and fewer, until he was standing on the only house that remained. Before him was no longer a city, but a flattened graveyard. Zombies ripped free from the grounds in the hundreds. Mausoleums peppered the graveyard and groups of ghouls spilled out of them every few seconds. In the center of it all was a massive dome, roughly the size of a football field. It looked like a giant turtle shell.
For a while the only response Jack had gotten when he asked about the painted shell tribe that governed the sector was “Tortuga’s are very good at defense.” It wasn’t until he reached the Golden Scale that anyone cared to elaborate further. Their tribe of over a hundred strong met up in the sector, killed off the guy in charge, and promptly built their fortress. This was a pretty common turtle tactic from what he understood. They find an easily defendable position, build out an impenetrable fortress, and then wait it out inside. This particular fortress they built happened to be dead center in the middle of the zombies spawning point, making for a rather annoying natural defense.
“You ready?” Jack asked the goblin who was peering over the edge of the roof, staring down at the zombies who were now trying to knock the house down.
“You sure this is going to work?” Nutt asked, skeptical.
“Depends on if you can actually melt your way through that shell.”
“Of course I can!” Nutt protested.
“Alright then, hop on.” Nutt crawled back onto Jack's shoulder and he stepped up to the ledge. Wiggleworm materialized back into a cloak and Jack took a deep breath, jumping out into the crowd of zombies.
As he fell into the crowd he said a quick prayer, hoping that zombie heads counted as “ground” so he could activate the effects of his Zephyr Stride Bangles. They did. He kicked off a zombie’s head and straight back into the air, jumping once more and landing on another zombie's head with a grin. Nutt on the other hand was screaming loudly in his ear the entire time.
Jack made it across the graveyard with relative ease, throwing a nervous glance back at the zombies. They had all turned and were now lumbering towards him, instead of heading out into the city. His foot hit the turtle shell and to his surprise he slipped. The entire shell was coated in some sort of multicolored acrylic substance that painted Jack’s boots tie dye.
The painted shell tribe, Jack thought with some annoyance. He regained his composure and jumped back off the air, landing once more on the shell. It was still slippery and required a fair bit of concentration but he was able to scramble his way to the top of the dome, albeit covered in paint by the time they reached the top. Wiggleworm, luckily, seemed immune to the paint, shaking it off with ease as his technicolor cloak turned back to black.
“This tastes weird. I think I like it.” Jack looked down at Nutt who was covered head to toe in the technicolor paint and taking several large huffs of air.
“Knock that off. I need whatever brain cells you have left.” Jack said, slapping the goblin on the back of the head. “Where should we set up?”
“This the center?”
“I think so,” Jack shrugged, glancing around. Ghouls were trying and failing to reach them, the slippery paint proving difficult for them to climb across.
“Can you clear this stuff so I can see the shell?” Nutt was pushing away the paint but it just kept spilling out.
Jack pulled out his gun and leveled it at the ground. Two large boulders erupted out of the front and slammed into the shell, shattering and sending shrapnel and paint in every direction. It was messy, but it seemed to splash most of the paint away.
“Interesting…” Nutt muttered, scratching at the revealed shell. It was a dark green. More interesting, it was segmented like interlocking scales. Each scale another much smaller turtle shell locked tightly in place.
“It’s segmented. This is good.” The goblin started pulling out one vial after another and mixing them together with a reckless, excited abandon.
Jack watched the goblin for a second, and then turned his attention back to the now paint covered ghouls. The multicolored nightmares scrambled towards him, having made it up the turtle shell. Jack pulled out his daggers and began the process of defending Nutt. The ghouls weren’t an issue to deal with. The biggest problem was the paint and how slippery it was. Jack couldn’t find even footing for the life of him, and if he pushed off the ground too hard he found himself falling flat on his face. Luckily the ghouls were having much the same issue and things quickly devolved into an oiled up wrestling match as he slipped and slid his way from one ghoul to another, delivering one killing blow after another.
Jack was rewarded with a large green explosion and a maniacal laugh from the goblin.
“It worked!” Nutt screamed. Jack glanced over at the explosion. It was like someone had set off one of those fireworks that shoots sparks, only this one was considerably more aggressive as Nutt’s creation threatened to consume him in the process.
The explosion lasted all of two seconds, and Jack felt a bit form in his stomach at the abrupt ending. He scrambled back over to Nutt and inspected the turtle shell.
There was a large crater, and it looks like Nutt had managed to melt about halfway through, but the paint had spilled in and managed to snuff it out before it could finish its job.
“I don’t suppose you have a second one you can use, do you?
Nutt didn’t respond. The little goblin was shaking with rage that his concoction had been so easily put out. He started spraying acid from his palm and melting away the paint that was trying to desperately cover up the crater he just created, likely to repair it. When Nutt finished he jumped down into the hole and started inspecting it.
“The insides are weaker!” He hollered back at Jack.
Jack pulled back Nutt and leveled his gun once more at the shell, aiming for the center of the small crater. This time, several chunks of the inner shell were broken off when Jack fired a boulder into it. With a satisfied nod he handed Nutt the gun and a handful of ammo.
“You work on creating an opening.”
“Really?” Nutt wore a manic grin as he cradled the weapon lovingly. “What are you going to do?”
Jack just pointed off in the distance. The paint was rising up from the shell and taking shape.
The technicolor paint that covered the shell took form in the shape of several large, hulking turtles. They walked on two legs and had t-rex-like heads. They sported large primitive clubs nearly as big as they were. The turtles all seemed to seamlessly glide across the painted shell as they launched themselves at Jack and Nutt.
“Work fast!” Jack screamed, pushing off the ground to meet the assault. He heard Nutt laughing like a crazy person and shots rang out behind him.
Jack instantly understood the turtled defensive strategy as he clashed with one of the painted turtle monsters. His daggers ripped through it easily and it crashed to the ground, returning back to paint as he defeated it. He wasn’t rewarded with any sort of kill notification, and several more turtles formed out of the paint, surrounding him and swinging down hard with their clubs. He inwardly complained that no one back at the Dragon Scale had bothered to mention this little tactic of the turtles. He was starting to think that Zeth likely suspected he would make an attempt at killing off the turtle, so he didn’t tell Jack everything.
Jack spent most of the fight aerial, only touching the slippery ground when he needed to reset his bangles. He also had to spend most of it in the direct vicinity of Nutt. The turtles seemed to realize he was the one breaking through the shell and bore down on him with their painted avatars. Fighting the turtles was a lot like fighting water. He needed to destroy enough of their bodies that they crumbled back into the pool of paint. Still, they had enough solidity to them that Jack felt his bones shake when deflecting a swing of their clubs.
“I’m in! Now what?” Nutt yelled as Jack slipped on some paint and lost his footing, earning him a club to the stomach that forced up lunch from three weeks ago.
“The knockout potion!” Jack gasped, wiping at his mouth and dodging another swing as he leaped back into the air.
“I told you I couldn’t make that!”
“Figure it out!” Jack screamed.
Jack jumped off the air once more and slammed back into the ground so hard that all the surrounding paint splashed away. He took a deep breath and let himself fall into [Storm Stance] once again. This is a training opportunity, Jack told himself.
An unwelcome memory of Rodeo dragging him onto an ice rink and then throwing baseballs at him resurfaced in the back of his brain. Rodeo had wanted Jack to dodge and duck and learn how to fight on the slippery surface. Jack, always throwing a wrench into Rodeo’s plans for training anyway he could, simply met the baseball’s head on, planting his feet firmly on the ice and punching down whatever Rodeo threw at him. Rodeo eventually came down and kicked the shit out of him, but Jack always considered it a win if he could make that asshole lose his temper.
If he couldn’t move freely like he wanted to, then he wouldn’t move at all.
Jack planted his feet firmly behind Nutt and towered over the goblin as he mixed up one concoction after another and dropped it into the dark hole he had opened up in the shell. The turtles launched at Jack and he met their blows with singular devastating strikes of his own. Just like he practiced, he whipped his arm out fast as lightning, slamming his dagger into the chest of an approaching turtle and twisting hard. Paint exploded everywhere. The turtle didn’t lose its form this time. Jack destroyed its form. He was an Executioner after all. His strikes needed to be singular, and packed full of destruction.
Jack pushed out everything from his mind as he let the technique consume him, decimating the avatars with one destructive strike after another. He almost swore he could hear the sound of lightning striking as his blades ripped through the air and found purchase in whoever dared approach him. Soon, nothing dared to approach him. Jack glanced around at his surroundings. The painted turtles stood tall but with their weapons hanging limply at their side.
“Did it work?” Jack glanced down at Nutt who had his head down into the hole.
“I think so? They aren’t moving anymore.”
The avatars began to drastically change shape. Some sprouted secondary heads. Others dawned spiked shells while some had extra arms bursting out of their sides as the paint rebuilt them into terrifying creatures. But they never moved.
“You said they aren’t moving inside?”
“…No,” he said after a moment. Jack stared at the avatars for a second longer, unsure what caused them to suddenly change shape.
“How long till we can go inside?”
“Should be clear now.” Nutt shrugged.
Jack grabbed the goblin and squeezed into the hole, careful not to land on anyone inside as he plummeted to the ground. He was met with a bunch of giant green shell-less turtles standing catatonic as they stared up at the ceiling. They looked prehistoric almost with their dinosaurs’ heads and hulking bodies. They had skeletal paintings all across their skin that glowed bright with mana. Likely what linked them to their avatars above.
As Jack looked upwards his eyes were practically assaulted with the technicolor paints. A large sprawling mural of every color was painted across the inside of the shell. It painted a foreboding picture of turtle global domination. Jack stared at it, entranced by the painting. It was beautiful. The colors mixed and blended and came to life like a movie. Jack took a deep breath, shocked by its beauty. The painted shell tribe at least lived up to its name’s sake.
As Jack took several more breaths he started to cough. He looked around and realized the room was filled with a hazy green smoke.
“Nutt… I thought you said this would be all cleared out?”
“I said it should be cleared out,” Nutt corrected.
“What is this?” Jack covered his mouth and tried to quit breathing.
“Remember that hallucinogenic ghoul piss?”
Jack groaned and stumbled back as a shadow jumped out at him, turned into a winged centipede, and flew upwards, spinning in lazy circles above.
Shitshitshit.
He bumped into one of the catatonic tortuga’s, knocking it awake. The turtle let loose a roar and then swiped wildly at the air several times over, fighting his own demons. Then he accidentally punched a nearby turtle, waking it up as well.
Jack watched in horror as one turtle after another knocked into each other like dominoes, waking them up and forcing them to deal with their own personal goblin-fueled acid trip. Jack was pushed aside in a sea of technicolor as the paint jumped off the walls and he was forced into a turtle rave from hell. They roared and clawed at each other, fighting off their own imaginary hallucinations. Jack scrambled back and pushed himself against the wall, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to get a hold on reality.
“You better get a grip quick now Jackie-boy.” Came a gravel filled voice. Jack peered open with one eye and glanced to his left. Rodeo was standing there with a lazy grin on his face.
Fuck.