Chapter 11. Hotheads.
“Hold brothers, this is not an enemy. This creature helped to save me from the fallen ones,” Nebram shouted as the warriors closed in. While they had been walking, or in this case slithering toward him, Silas had swapped out the magazine in his rifle for a fresh one, and as friendly as Nebram had been, Silas was more than prepared to blast away anyone trying to stick him with a primitive spear.
“Stand aside Nebram, and do not forget that the imprisoned one is a deceiver. Would it not carelessly cast aside some of its lesser minions to grant one of its followers access to our home?” The lead warrior, a guy with a thicker snake part of his body, and a well-muscled humanoid torso, said. He also wielded a crude iron tip on his spear as opposed to the brittle obsidian ones on the other spears.
“I’m here to fight Bhalkur if that’s what this ‘imprisoned one’ is that you’re referring to. Also, I’m fine staying outside your village, if that makes you more comfortable. I’m not here to hurt any of you,” Silas offered.
“What is this foul thing that you’ve found, Nebram? Do you think it is safe to eat?” one of the other naga warriors asked.
“I think you’ll find that I’m a bit tough to chew, and even tougher to kill,” Silas said, raising his rifle toward the mouthy warrior. He was fresh out of patience and didn’t want to lose his or Buster’s life because one of these guys decided that a human and his dog would make for a fine meal.
“Gramsar, stay your spear and keep the other warriors in line. This is a human and his canine companion. His name is Silas, and he is a powerful mage, so don’t antagonize him,” Nebram said, slithering over to place himself between Silas and the other warriors.
“Ha, Nebram, do you see this great power with your own eyes, or did you just accept this human creature’s stories as truth? You were always a bit too trusting,” Gramsar hissed at Nebram.
“I killed eleven of those rabid gnomes, and two of your types that had gone mad. If you don’t let up, Gramsar, I can add some of you to the tally. You’re not exactly rabid or crazed, but you are dumb asses,” Silas threatened. He knew that he should try to defuse the situation, that’s what he’d been taught as a Green Beret, but he was fed up with this, and there was also the chance that showing strength was the way to go here.
“Fool, you threaten one of our war leaders!” another of the naga warriors hissed as he charged Silas with his spear leveled out to skewer him. Quickly shifting his weapon’s aim to the new threat, Silas drilled his attacker in the chest, raising the muzzle slightly when the first shot didn’t bring his target down. Finishing his attacker with a second shot to the forehead, Silas slowly backed away, scanning for any of the others that might want to attack.
“Sorcery! These creatures are servants of the imprisoned one,” another naga screamed before lunging at Buster.
Buster saw the attack coming, and while keeping up a vicious barking at his foe, the dog ran to hide behind Silas. When Silas shifted to target the new attacker, the naga warrior threw his spear. The weapon grazed Nebram’s side, who was trying to separate everyone, and then slammed into Buster’s right rear hip, knocking the poor dog to the jungle floor. Buster’s barking turned into yelps of pain as he tried to get up but collapsed back down.
“No!” Silas yelled, fury taking over any control he might have had.
A flick of his thumb moved the firing lever from semi-auto to full auto and Silas struggled to keep control of the weapon as he mag dumped bursts of fire into the naga that had attacked Buster. The naga seemed to dance in place as the rounds slammed into his body. Silas might have been out of practice, but with only ten feet separating him from his target, Silas was able to keep the rifle on target until the bolt locked back on an empty chamber.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Silas kept the weapon trained on the naga as he swapped mags, cursing himself at his slow and fumbling efforts. This was war, and he needed to get things like a mag swap back into pure muscle memory. He was also distracted by Buster’s whines of pain. He was a good pup and didn’t deserve this.
His weapon reloaded, Silas shifted his target to Gramsar, who was charging forward with the rest of the naga warriors. As he tried to seat the new magazine and hit the bolt release, Silas felt a strange tingle in the weapon. It was almost like static electricity was building up. When the bolt refused to slam forward and chamber the first round of the new magazine, Silas dropped the rifle and went for his pistol.
“Control your men Gramsar, or you’ll doom us all. Please, stay your hand human, I apologize for my people’s foolish reaction to your appearance here,” a strained and faint naga voice called. Silas had been so focused on killing his foes that he hadn’t noticed what looked like a very old naga and two guards even larger than Gramsar approaching.
“My elder, I obey, stand down!” Gramsar shouted to his surviving warriors. The warriors obeyed, though they stared at Silas in a mix of anger, fear, and astonishment over the rapid deaths of their kin.
“Again human, I apologize for any ignorance and misunderstanding on the part of my people. We have been hard pressed by our enemies and have lost much of what made us the folk. The great System foretold of a coming war against the imprisoned one, and whispered to me that our people should join one of the war leaders from afar,” the old naga said.
With the others not attacking him, Silas turned his attention to Buster. To his horror, the dog’s whines were growing quiet, and before he could do anything, Buster went still.
“Buster, don’t leave!” Silas wailed. Pulling the spear from his dog’s body and cradling him to his chest.
“He mourns his loss, all of you return to the village. Human, I apologize for your loss at the hands of my warriors. We will welcome you whenever you wish to approach us again. Nebram will remain your contact with the folk, and he will serve you in whatever manner you need him to. Can I do anything else for you?” the old naga asked.
“You can leave while I try to decide if I want to go through the effort of killing the rest of your people,” Silas growled, one hand releasing Buster and grabbing a grenade off his LBV.
Wisely, the naga didn’t respond to Silas’ threat and returned to their village, but Nebram remained nearby, about twenty yards away. Out of his mind with fury and loss, Silas pulled the pin on the grenade and readied himself to release the spoon and end everything here and now. Buster was his last friend, the last thing holding him together. A System prompt appeared and stopped him from acting, reminding Silas of the conditions of this visit to the pit.
Tutorial rules are in effect. A respawn for the being known as Buster has activated. Please note that the respawn mechanic can only activate once every 24 hours. Should the being known as Buster perish again before the 24-hours has expired, he will be lost for good. The being known as Buster will respawn at the summoning portal momentarily.
With that announcement, Buster’s body dissipated into vapor like the gnomes in his garage had. Carefully, Silas scanned the jungle floor, looking for the pin that he’d pulled and tossed. He had forgotten that the System had mentioned something about a tutorial and reviving if killed. There was a chance that Buster was okay, and he wasn’t going to do anything rash until he confirmed whether or not the System’s promises were real.
“Nebram, help me find the pin I just threw. It’s a small metal wire with loop on one end,” Silas ordered to the nearby naga. Asking for help turned out to be the right call, and a few minutes later, just as Silas was getting ready to throw away the live grenade into the jungle, Nebram found the pin.
“I have it Silas, what should I do with it?” Nebram asked.
“See that small hole in the device here above where my hand is? Place the pin back in there, carefully. This a very dangerous weapon,” Silas warned.
The naga’s fingers were human-like but the longer claw-like nails made the task a bit more difficult. After a few attempts, Nebram managed to replace the pin and Silas slowly released the spoon, ready to toss the weapon if he heard the telltale hiss of the fuse igniting.
“Thank you, I’ve got to run, but maybe we can talk again soon,” Silas said, using his mini map to run back to the platform where the portal was.
“I have been commanded to follow and assist you Silas, I cannot shirk my duty,” Nebram replied. His slithering body had little trouble keeping up with the brisk waddle that was about all that Silas’ aged body could manage.
Every step of the journey, both excitement and dread filled Silas. Was his friend really returned to the platform like someone in a video game? Was this some cruel joke by the System? Had some clone or fake copy of Buster been created by the System?
He knew he would find out momentarily as he finally spotted the clearing where the platform awaited.