Book 2 | 3 A Forgotten City

Beside him, three decapitated heads of its victims stared out into the distance. The knight said in a deep voice.

"Tell me. Has the reaper come?"

I frowned.

"Why would you do this?"

Althea shrugged.

"Who cares why it did this."

Her biotic rifle hissed as she loaded another bolt of bone into it. She frowned.

"It's just a dead man talking."

Chapter Begin

Before she jumped in, I peered at the creature.

Corsack, Knight of Yawm | Level 505 - One of the most recently named of Yawm. He was given ascension after dispatching a party of humans. Always envisioning himself as a noble knight, Corsack gained his wish after being named by Yawm.

His bone armor, skill with a sword, and high level make him extremely dangerous for you. Be wary, as he's slain many humans for his lord.

Corsack flopped himself off his resting spot, gazing at us. In a deep voice, he said,

"Who are you three?"

I frowned.

"Wait, you were an actual person?"

Corsack paced to the side, his fungal sword in hand.

"I could've been. My memory of before my evolution is a haze. I know I am more than one body that has come together. I am also...Sad. These three did not need to die, but I took their heads for glory. All this, and yet, what glory have I gained?"

I grimaced.

"Who were they?"

Corsack's sword erupted sparks along the parking deck as he walked.

"A party of five. Two men guarded two women. One of them escaped, but the other four fell. It was as simple as taking candy from a child. That was when Yawm gave me a mind of my own. Now, I am more than a mere animal. I am sentient, yet my sentience has only given me regret."

He raised his shield, the spores fumigating the room.

"I betrayed what I once was. I've devolved into a monster, something that feeds on those weaker than I. In my master's name, I must feed on you as well."

His body writhed from within before Corsack spit sickening, bloody bile from his throat.

"I must, in his name."

A bit of pity rose in my chest before I gazed at the heads once more. Even if he was a normal person, could I let a chaotic, insane murderer run around killing people? No. After all, anyone this monster killed after I let him go would be partly my responsibility. Resolved, I charged my runes and sprinted toward him.

Althea leaped back, and after she gained distance, I destroyed the incoming spore cloud using oppression. The aura sizzled the monster's skin, and Corsack murmured,

"I deserve this trial by fire. The pain is my retribution."

Althea fired a bolt, and Corsack lifted his shield. The spear sank through the fungal barrier, piercing into his chest. He pulled the bolt out before putting the bone in his ragged mouth. Tendrils wrangled out of the helmet, and they cracked the lance into pieces. Corsack swallowed before gurgling out his voice.

"Delicious. As where the others."

It laughed, the expression full of pain.

"I am unworthy of life, aren't I? A being born in shadow and terrified of the light."

Everything it said played on my emotions, from fear to guilt, but I calmed myself down. I wasn't going to let it distract me anymore. I reached the monster, hurling a fist its way. It parried my blow using its shield, and it sliced its blade of molded bone. I blocked the arcing slice using my forearm.

I angled the blow to parry, but the sharpened spine sank a few inches into my arm regardless. I winced before stepping forward and slamming a fist into Corsack's stomach. Like slamming my fist into stone, the bones in my hand creaked. I growled out, pulling my limb back. As I did, powder fell from Corsack's body, tracing the arc of my arm's movement.

It could be killed, if barely.

Corsack pulled his sword from my forearm before kicking at me like a fireman knocking a door down. I turned sideways, and his foot scraped the edge of my helmet. His leg stuck out beside my face, so I grabbed his leg and pulled him upward. The monster's torso fell back, his feet in the air. I grabbed his chest and lifted him up.

Corsack gurgled out his words.

"What in Yawm's name are-"

I flung him back down with all my might. His head clapped against the concrete. He reared a foot back and heel kicked at my face. I dodged sideways, and his foot hit the ground. Like a dangling puppet, he pulled himself up as I circled behind him. I hugged him to my chest and slung him through the air.

His head flung backward as I suplexed him into the ground. The parking deck cracked as a spike on his helmet lodged a foot deep into the concrete. The crumbling parking deck echoed throughout the city like a bolt of lightning in the distance. Althea yelled.

"Behind you."

I pulled on Corsack's chest, flipping through the air. A spear shot straight through one of the knight's elbows as I landed back on my feet. With his legs sticking up in the air, he kicked once more. I leaned sideways, keeping myself balanced and my elbows tucked. When he tried pulling his legs back, I grabbed his shin.

I pulled my knee up in an arcing strike straight toward his kneecap. The joint snapped and bent backward. The knight howled, his scream muffled by his helmet. A surge of guilt ran through me. I ignored it before stepping forward and hugging his torn leg. His knee bent further backward as I flung him over my shoulder. As the knight flew through the air, one of Althea's lances pierced his skull.

I slammed him into the ground, his body twitching. Still alive, his arms raised to protect himself, and I tried overpowering him. In an instant, I growled as the grip of his uninjured arm tore through the armor on my left hand. Blood poured from my flayed skin and ripped metal before Althea aimed another bolt through Corsack's last uninjured elbow.

Corsack growled out in pain. Grimacing, I raised a fist and pummeled his head to a pulp. Over and over, my fists rained like lead bricks atop a stone. Corsack's arms lost strength as he cried out. His crippled legs writhed for escape and found none. I slammed and crushed and crumbled. When his face was a mush of red and fungal yellow, I sat down beside the corpse.

My hands shook, and my breathing rasped as if I was losing my voice. I heaved for breath as a spine of my armor absorbed his corpse. I winced at the sight. When it finished, nothing was left of him but the blood he had left behind. I gazed at my hands, and they trembled. My armor was soaked in the blood, but it soaked it in over a few seconds.

I remembered Corsack's screams, and the blood lingered in my vision. As if knocking me out of my trance, Kessiah slapped my back.

"Nice kill. Let's get the hell out of here before one of Yawm's followers shows up."

My hands kept shaking, and I mumbled something unintelligible. Kessiah rolled her eyes before hitting my helmet. She jostled me out of my stupor, and I turned to her. She spread her hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

I stammered out.

"He...It could talk."

She rolled her hand.

"Aaaand?"

I frowned.

"I just...He was like...Like a person."

She smirked.

"Kid. That was an eldritch. They're all evil. Also, what you're feeling was its charisma stat. Sometimes, monsters have a higher amount of it. It can prey on your doubts and leave you vulnerable. Don't let it pick you apart, capeesh?"

I gazed at where the corpse had been. The monster seemed trapped in its own body, and that terrified me. As my armor grinned over my face, I took a breath before nodding.

"Yeah...Of course. Let's get out of here."

Kessiah pointed toward the edge of the building.

"That's where Torix is telling us to go. Onward, kidlings."

We sprinted towards the edge of the building. As I leaped off, gravity took hold. The buildings and forest in the distance rushed past my face. The wind pressed against my skin as I accelerated. The ground grew in size along with a car. As I neared the ground, I attempted to land my feet on the top of that same car.

It crumbled underneath my feet before my legs gave way under my momentum. I fell sideways, my head breaking the car's window. As I slammed into the ground, another echo ushered out throughout the city. A tiny crater formed underneath me as I collided with the pavement. I pulled myself upright, wobbling a bit before I shook it off.

I let out a sigh.

"Damn. That was stupid."

Althea landed beside me, her footsteps light as a feather. I frowned.

"Showoff."

Althea laughed.

"Ok, maybe a little. You seem shaken up?"

I wrestled my emotions down before hitting my forehead.

"I'm fine. That last fight bothered me up for some reason."

Kessiah stuck her landing beside me like some Olympic-level gymnast. She grinned down.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Gotta work on your thigh strength. You know, do some squats and lunges."

I scoffed before spitting rocks and mud from my mouth.

"Thanks for the tip. I'll take it to heart."

Althea brandished new wings, and she ran forward. As she flew up, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Damn. Her powers were amazing. I ran up slower than I'd like, and Kessiah ran beside me. She smirked.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. Mission accomplished."

We sprinted back towards a manhole cover before retreating back into the depths of the sewer. Despite a bit of blood being on my armor, the soothing scents returned. They kept us calm and focused as we hustled towards our next destination. It gave me time to settle down and quiet my raging emotions.

I'd let Corsack's voice and words unsettle me. In fact, he'd done more than weaken my resolve in the fight. He diluted my conviction even after dying. As my hands quit shaking, I swallowed down my guilt and apprehension. This was a part of war and survival, and I wouldn't be the one who died here.

After addressing the feelings as best I could, I opened my status screen. Now was the moment of truth. What was I supposed to put my points into? I had three choices, really, since charisma was pointless for my current situation. I mean, I'd love to have more in the stat, but I'd likely never be a charismatic leader because of this armor and the charisma reduction.

That gave me the options of luck, perception, and dexterity. Luck would probably give me more health, and oh man, I loved me some health. I didn't like the idea of relying on chance, however. The other two perks offered fewer stat buffs, but they held more tangible gains from the stats themselves.

Dexterity offered flexibility, reaction times, and technique. If I lacked the level 30 perk for it, I'd never have pulled off that suplex I landed on Corsack. A shiver raced up my spine, and I held down a wave of revulsion at the name before moving on. Comparatively, perception allowed me to find more information using my senses and perceive more of the world.

Between the two of them, it was a tough call. Even more so, both stats helped me carve my runes, which I derived a solid chunk of my power from. Perception could also help us glean more information from Baldag-Ruhl's runes on BloodHollow. I had access to them after Torix destroyed the cave because he maintained a variety of imprints for all the runes he found inside the cave.

His undead insects kept memory logs of the runes, which he could access at any time as well. They were in the library he sent me earlier, and if I figured those out, I might uncover more about my armor and its inherent nature. That being said, dexterity would let me do ninja flips. It was at that point that I took a step back, and I realized why I was weighing the two options in my mind.

I was looking at short-term results rather than long-term gains.

My current tree, Genesis of Potential, had unlocked extra level 100 perks. That meant I didn't need to rush the whole process of getting the level 100 perks. Instead, I could use the feeding strategy I implemented for endurance, willpower, and intelligence. I didn't before due to the circumstances at hand.

Kessiah had needed my help, so immediate strength took precedence. However, I could afford to get the most bang for my buck at the moment. With that in mind, I put all my points into constitution. It would feed strength that fed dexterity that fed perception. That let me race towards the level 1,000 perks, assuming they existed, of course.

A quick message to Torix verified that fact, so sixty clicks into constitution later, I selected the finalize option. Energy from afar rushed into my frame, and I trembled under its might. My armor tightened around me as I filled in the shell. As the seconds passed, I couldn't breathe. I choked until my face purpled from the internal pressure. A wicked crack echoed out as my armor snapped again.

Alongside the crack, I gasped for breath, and the same system-based rush swam over me as my fists became heavy as sledgehammers. Of course, the others hadn't slowed down for me, so I sprinted to catch up while checking out my status screen.

Level 356 | Attribute Menu

Strength - 121.9 | Constitution - 166.1 | Endurance - 567 | Dexterity - 60.5 | Willpower - 270.8 | Intelligence - 105.2 | Charisma - 37.8 | Luck - 55.5 Perception - 36.1

Daniel Hillside, The Harbinger of Cataclysm

Health - 25,118/25,118 | Health Regen - 4,989/min | Stamina - 13,090/13,090 | Stamina Regeneration - 184/sec | Damage Resistance - 97.5% | Mental Resistance - 97.5% | Physical Power - (+)2,119% | Damage Increase - 5%  | Evolution: 52.7 Million/256.0 Million

Aura - Oppression | Current Damage: (10,000 + 30% of your health)/minute within a 175 ft radius.

It was steady progress, though the dexterity looked like it would be kind of a slog. I didn't get as high a bonus for constitution and strength as I did for endurance and willpower. In fact, a bit of calculation gave me a number to shoot for - 180. I needed that many levels to fill in my dexterity stat using the raw number approach I chose.

It would be slow going, but it was worth it. After bouncing a few more calculations around in my status, I took a resolved breath. The feeding strategy would earn me about twelve more levels of bonus status. That factored in the bonuses from the Obliterator tree. Putting all my points into endurance had given me another 50 or so bonus levels of raw stats as well.

That kind of thing adds up over time. Hell, it already had. There was bound to come a point where gaining levels would become tremendously arduous, so making the most of these easy gains would make all the difference in the long run.

Having finished my status work, I caught up to Kessiah and Althea, who dashed forward. Althea hopped over telephone poles, glided across rooftops, and slid through open windows. She fired her rifle at interspersed intervals, each shot piercing the vitals of whatever creature she sniped. As steam rose from the mechanical pieces, light glinted off the metal. All the while, she smiled from her freedom.

She was like an angel of death.

When we reached the next area, Kessiah led us up and out of the sewer. With pristine care, she set the manhole cover beside the entrance. We skulked out while watching our steps for loose debris. Unlike the previous area, Torix advised caution here, while the previous area was supposed to act as a distraction.

Walking on our toes, we snuck forward in a line. Wallowing in the depths of the yellow forest, mutations and deformities bloomed from every living creature. The trees warped into tangling trunks, each branch curling into nested clusters. Withered stalks fought against each other, creating a dense canopy overhead.

They made it difficult to even see the sky, let alone climb their peaks without tearing through a foot of bark. Even worse than the darkness was the humidity. Everything dripped from the soaking mists, and it smelled like a dank basement interspersed by sharp spikes of rot and iron. Each time we stepped, life crunched under our feet, and it sounded like ripping cardboard.

The worst feature of this hellscape came from the bodies. Trees grew with corpses ingrained in the bark. They covered the corpses, turning them into bark-covered sculptures. A few of those cadavers held outstretched hands as if to escape, while other root structures held bodies pulled into the base of trees by their heads. The corpses struggled to pull themselves from the trees, their hands midway through jerking their heads out.

They would never breathe again.

I wish I could say it angered me, and it did. However, it left me deeply unsettled. A part of me was terrified that we would end up as victims of this plague as well, but I suppressed that fear as best I could. There was no time for it since we faced many unnamed this time. Several of them ate the bloody mushrooms growing out of fresh bodies.

One hulked along, its body like a muscled and manged bear. Mold strands wrapped over its skin like a web, and dry puffs expanded out of its eyes and from holes spreading across its body. I held down my vomit as the beast crunched bones in its mouth. Another monster swung through the branches above.

Its slender body moved along dozens of additional joints, letting it slide across the brambles. A shining carapace covered its body, the gradient shifting from a deep gold to a bright, buttery lemon. They curled around branches and lobbed them at me. I didn't have many ways of retaliating, though they never threatened me if I stayed alert.

Althea pelted them in the meantime. She'd fire at them, nailing them through vital spots before they fell to the ground. I'd tear them limb from limb once they fell, their glossy bodies leaking metallic blue blood. She and I both out-leveled and overpowered them, so expunging them took little focus.

Echoing calls across the vast horizons omened danger, and they kept us sharp as razor blades. Despite the peril, a routine set in over time. As we slaughtered the monsters, we measured our pace while remaining hurried. We flowed into a system of her firing and me following up in a melee brawl.

After clearing a few football fields of terrain, we neared a strip mall that included apartments along its upper edge. The entire area acted as a symbol of Springfield's ongoing gentrification before the system arrived. Members of the area fought to keep the mom-and-pop stores open, but money and special interests won in the end.

Well, had been winning. After those wealthy investors set up this space, several of my schoolmates ended up leaving whenever their rent prices spiked. Having dodged a bullet, they'd all be dead if they hadn't left. As if coming from an extension of that idea, a shadow loomed over the area.

Several of the buildings were once full of warmth and life, but now, they were hollow and empty as a desiccated insect trapped in a spider's web. People fought tooth and nail to live here, and from the smell alone, I could tell they died after fighting so hard to get into these pristine locales.

Something about it struck a chord of sadness as if the whistling wind and bristling branches played a melancholy tune of false promise.

We skulked up to that place, each building embedded with a basement beneath the stores. Lots of underground pubs set up shop here since a concert hall was nearby. That supplied a consistent stream of customers at regular intervals. Of course, they'd died, and their bodies sprawled all along the cityscape.

They were a poignant reminder of the cozy town we lost. Releasing a bit of my frustration, I crushed the skull of a nearby zombie, elegant flowers blooming from its wounds. As it died, I wiped my foot on the ground.

Torix Worm, of Darkhill | Level 1,304 - Hide now.

As I finished reading the message, Kessiah and Althea dashed toward two shops nearby. I charged forward, straight into one of the shops in front of me as well. Shutting off oppression mid-run, I reached a stairway behind a bar. I walked down the steps, reaching a dank basement full of wine bottles and beer barrels.

As I reached the bottom of the steps, the entire place reeked of decay and piss. It was like a thousand rats had drenched the area in their squalor, a fetid, acrid smell scorching the hairs in my nose. I scrambled around the ensemble of bottles before hiding behind a set of barrels. Several rats scurried away from me as I squatted down.

There I sat for a moment before a crashing sound echoed from upstairs. The sound of snapping wood and breaking chairs continued for a few minutes. Cold sweat dripped from my brow, and my heart thudded in my chest like a drum. When the sounds overhead ceased, a disconcerting sound came into my ears. Someone was breathing here with me.

I turned my head, finding a man hiding behind a wine rack. In a state of profound filth, he was smothered in his own grime. His hair ragged, his clothes torn, and his eyes broken, he clamped his hands against his mouth. This man reeked of booze, his eyes yellow from the beginnings of jaundice.

He reminded me of my father.

This man found this place and drank his worries away after the apocalypse. The idea of wasting away down here as people above died...It rose a spike of hatred in me. I pressed it down as his eyes met mine. He shook like an old washing machine. Sweat poured from his forehead. His skin glistened yellow, all semblance of dignity long gone.

I softened my expression. Regardless of what I believed on a personal level, surviving in this hellhole was incredible. Hell, he might've gotten trapped here after the forest arose. I might've drank myself into a stupor if I had to live here as long as this man had. I raised a hand and pressed it to my lips.

That's when a heavy foot landed on the steps leading down here. A green glow leaked down the stairs, and it harbingered our deaths. I held my breath, as did the man beside me. Our eyes met again, and I gave him a quick nod. Despite our understanding, the man's panic made him lose his breath far faster than he should have.

His shaking increased in intensity. I stared at a bomb about to go off, one that would kill me. If this follower found us, we'd both die. Another loud step echoed down the stairs. My mind raced. I could use oppression and kill the man, but the follower would feel my aura. I winced, the fact I even thought to do that sending a wave of revulsion up my spine.

Another step echoed down the stairs. Time slowed to a painful, agonizing crawl. The man beside me trembled, every moment less certain than the last. Another step echoed through the room. It was a brutal sound. Something like a man's neck breaking when he was hanged. More than that. It was physical, like a hammer beating against my head, slamming against my mind.

Struggling all the while, I kept my composure, but the man in front of me was losing it. As the glowing green light filled the room, the man's chest convulsed. He wouldn't be able to hold his breath much longer. Racing for an answer, I thought back to my limited magic. Augmentation wouldn't do anything but guarantee my death.

An idea sparked in my mind. I would wield dominion mana to hold him down. My hopeless situation turned into a race against time. I swallowed before putting my hand behind me. There, I summoned a bit of dominion magic, just the slightest blip of it. It would be better if the man didn't see the energy. He might have snapped at the sight of it.

Glancing behind me, the silent energy plumed as an umbral flame. Cold. Calculating. Merciless. The mana drenched into my palm as a poison, one I would willingly swallow. I closed my eyes and thought back to what I understood about dominion magic. To evoke it, I needed the desire to control those around me instead of myself.

I channeled those thoughts. I would change the world instead of myself, like a scientist. I needed that kind of reasoning. That's when an idea popped into my head. Instead of thinking about my body like it was mine, I tried disconnecting myself from it. To do so, I thought of myself as a body holding my soul. The soul was my center, not my physical being.

Using that belief, I thought of my body as a vessel. It was a car, and I was its driver. It was a golem, and I was the mind commanding it. The augmentation runes charged though they sent out no sparks like before.

A small dappling of mana poured into them, not the enormous flow like usual. That mana coursed down my arms and into my palms, reaching my previous inscriptions. The black energy trembled before augmentation mana surged from my chest and thoughts. It flowed into the runes, a subtle mixing of two disparate energies.

They rejected one another like oil trying to mix with water. The dual energies vibrated with violence, though the sound merged into the constant cries of the yellow forest echoing in above. As those manas raged within their sphere, the follower reached below the stairs. From the reflection of a glass, I saw its form.

He was a Porytian, one of Yawm's species. It wasn't Yawm, though. This creature lacked Yawm's broad, muscled body. This follower was lithe and sinewy like bundled piano wires being driven by a desire to murder. The creature's legs were bent backward like a goat, even as he stood straight up. His arms were long and his hands massive, though they weren't hulking like the overseer's limbs.

His eyes radiated a solid, emerald green, streaks of the glow crawling down his chest and arms. Ominous, formidable, and sharp, the porytian stepped into the room. Wherever the shining streaks passed, something like muscle bulged from under his wooden skin. As it shifted its movements and steps, the creature moved with a pristine grace.

It was nothing like the other followers I'd seen. The way this one looked and moved was purposeful and calculating. The others were glorified puppets by comparison. Two horns curved out the sides of his mouthless face, blending into the wooden skin and ending in spikes. The thin fingers looked sharpened and tense like they were ready to tear out a throat at any second.

The thing tapped its forehead before slapping through the glass of a wine bottle. Its fingers sheared through the glass with ease. It grunted, inhuman and angry. After another pause, the thing leaned against a wall like it was frustrated. At this point, I prayed. To whom, it didn't matter. I simply pushed my will into the ether, hoping for a response.

My status responded as if to deride me. 

Ajax Volan, the Void Eater| Lvl 4,289 - A follower of Yawm, he is Yawm's strongest and most loyal ally. During the war with the Bracken, Ajax acted as a vanguard with Yawm. They have torn apart entire armies on their own. Despite refusing Yawm's gift of flesh, they remain on excellent terms due to their history before Yawm's resurgence as a celestial threat.

Not much else is known about Ajax. With its enormous pool of experience, gigantic level, and untold power, Ajax Volan is devastating. Hide or run, but do not fight him. To fight him is to die.

The man and I shook, each of us overtaken by a quiet frenzy. The man twitched now, his face turning pale. He would reveal me in seconds if Ajax hadn't sensed my mana already. At the peak of my panic, Ajax spoke into the air.

"What are we even doing anymore?"