Monsoon117

Book 2 Beginning | 1 To Make a Difference

Added 2025-03-31 01:31:08 +0000 UTC

Keeping that goalpost in mind, I considered how to progress. I stuck with an attribute heavy approach, something Kessiah made light of at one point. She mentioned endurance and willpower based builds being useless. I aimed to change that idea. I would turn the intangible traits of those attributes into hallmarks of my own unique build.

Endless health with the will to use it...I wanted to become a living endorsement to that idea.

So I settled into maximizing my gains to their utmost extent. I’d abuse the Determinator tree until the stars died out in the distance if I had to. With that in mind, I peered at my status. I gained quite a few skill levels after all the fighting. Mightus and Slyvenia both carried unknown statuses too, and Obliterator doubled my experience gain from them.

That heightened experience bonus doubled another time because of the quarantine zone. It led me to gaining many more levels than I used to get. I smiled at the numbers I found waiting for me. With risks came rewards, after all.

Level 326 | Attribute Menu

Daniel Hillside, The Harbinger of Cataclysm | Character Screen

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

The largest difference came from the vast rise in my physical power. Apocalyptic also came with an explosivity I appreciated at all moments. I could just detonate at any time. Just as potent, the constitution perk, Behemoth, exposed its benefits even while sitting there. Situated by crossing my legs on the grassy ground, I sunk into it by a slight amount. Even without trying too, the level one hundred perks demonstrated immense utility.

However, each time I selected one, I cut off my ability to get other ones.

Knowing this, I wondered which leveling perk to take next. The main standouts were dexterity, perception, and luck. Compared to those attributes, strength and constitution’s benefits stood out as obvious. I fought with my fists, so being strong and tough helped me out there. They both even gave me health after getting their leveling perks, further augmenting their necessary roles.

Perception, luck, and dexterity were different. Dexterity increased my reaction times, which would save my life in the future. The added flexibility may even make torn strips of armor more durable. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. For perception and luck, I figured I’d think about them later. As I pushed myself up, a wave of unease passed over me.

Would I just keep pushing this kind of thing off? It was piss poor way of handling something this important. Even worse, if I understood anything about Schema’s system, it was that planning reaped benefits. My goal of piling up endurance resulted in a unique, powerful build that let me survive an encounter with Dakhma, someone thousands of levels over me. If I kept thinking ahead, there was no telling where I’d end up.

But that was the point - I had to keep thinking ahead. I sat back down. Taking a moment, I brainstormed some likely perks and trees that may form based on old tree patterns. The second tier of Obliterator might exist, maybe even a third one. There could even be perks for having 1,000 in an attribute. If perks like that did exist, then maxing out my endurance would be vital. Willpower may follow right after so I could handle the ensuing mana I generated.

So instead of just pouring points out in a haphazard manner, I aimed at reaching those goals. Dexterity first then either perception or luck. After that, I’d pile up endurance until I passed a thousand. That would give me my best chance at growing as fast as possible. Considering the fight with Dakhma, I needed immediate, world ending power. The fight passed in my eyes, and I flinched as Althea’s head flopped in the air.

I recalled Michael and Kelsey, dying in their stasis pods. We couldn’t save them.

I peered up, knowing that I wouldn’t have to deal with outcomes like that if I resolved myself. The situation with Dakhma pointed out how desperate our current situation was. In a moment, everything could devolve into a massacre, one where we existed on the receiving end of the slaughter. This was no different from BloodHollow, however. I faced grim odds then, and I came out on top.

I passed out of that dungeon from a load of tenacity and a little luck. From passing through that trial, I held opportunities flowing from my palms like water from a spring. The Determinator tree wasn’t even obtainable for most. My armor was wholly unique, and Obliterator was another feather in my cap. Genesis of Potential could’ve been the greatest of my advantages, something with unseen and unknown potential.

And by reaching that potential, I could race out into an uncertain horizon without fear. I could rise above where I was born. Following a whim, I stood and paced out of the camp towards the edge of the quarantine zone. Force of Iron soldiers walked beside the shield generators, holding in the petal bugs in the distance. To get a better view, I climbed towards the top of an old factory.

Traversing to its top was easier than I remembered. I hopped onto a train with a casual leap. I sprinted forward, crossing a several car wide gap to reach the factory’s ceiling. Once on it, I shoved my pointed fingertips through thin steel to reach the top of a smoke stack. The old relic of humanity’s golden age stuck out as a beacon of what once was. As I reached the top of it, I gazed out at the shell of Springfield.

An enormous, encroaching field of new life came over the entire expanse. It smothered and drained and sucked up everything in its pass. Colossal roots carved out enormous chunks of the scenery, birds resting on the tops of the huge walls of wood. They all collected into a massive world tree at the center of Springfield. In the core of that place, Yawm rested as a tiny blot of light in the distance.

I grimaced at the cosmic creature. My friends passed from him. My old hometown rested in shambles. Even my old way of life obliterated from Yawm’s mark, Springfield a mere blip in his path. Anger spiked in my chest as I grabbed the sides of the smokestack I sat on, I wrenched the steel, and it squealed in my palms before I ripped shards off. Staring at the bent metal, I flung the old pieces of soft steel into the distance.

As they fell, so did my anxieties. I already survived an apocalypse, and I came out stronger on the other side of it. Peering down at Springfield, I’d do the same thing again. Unlike in BloodHollow, I wouldn’t need luck this time. I’d get revenge for what was done to my home and for what was done to me. I’d walk across a mountain of corpses if that’s what it took to get there.

I aimed to redeem this place’s memory, to learn the secrets of Schema’s runic language, and to maybe even travel the stars one day. I closed my eyes, thinking about how Schema made all of those thoughts into realities. That AI turned this land into a new world, one where monsters roamed and beasts thrived, and I wouldn’t wash away in it.

I was Daniel Hillside, the Harbinger of Cataclysm.

And no matter what they threw at me, I would endure.

Book 2 Begin | Yawm's Rise

1 To Make a Difference

Upon a silent smokestack, I surveyed an altered world. Under a shining sky, the edge of Springfield deformed from the onslaught of Yawm's infectious trees. The petals fell and evolved into insects that drilled into the flesh and skin of anyone exposed to them. Black veins spread across their bodies, the mangled faces like horrid memories of a bygone era.

The Force of Iron fought against them, containing the tide of petal bugs. Shields powered by mages flickered as petals sizzled against them. Soldiers screamed orders as they gunned down errant zombies, and they exhausted their morale and their ammunition. In many ways, we operated under the weight of expectation.

And so, I could wait no longer.

I stood, peering down. I leaped from the side before jamming my clawed fingertips into the steel beside me. Sparks bolted out as I slowed my descent. I thumped onto the top of the factory, dust billowing out from my landing. Growls on the horizon echoed over the impact, and I smiled. I had plenty of fights ahead of me.

I opened my status and put all my tree points into Genesis of Potential. I closed in on the next tier at 750 points. Alas, I had a bit further to push before I could consolidate my gains. I leaped and parkoured my way through a post-apocalyptic cityscape, the empty factories as haunting as the empty homes.

At the medical bay, Althea slept, and Kessiah rested. I had a moment of downtime to relax and recharge. I did as all would, and I focused my efforts on a bit of self-improvement. In my case, that meant runes and forging. It emptied my mind of all distractions, acting as a fruitful cleanse of my worries. After heading into one of the work tents, I took a few slabs of metal and bent them together.

That makeshift anvil in hand, I took other bits of scrap metal to forge. Hours passed like minutes while I bent over the hodgepodge anvil and toiled. It was a side of myself I never uncovered in the old world. I fought against homework, rules, and expectations like a honeybadger in a hive. Here, amidst a world full of struggle and no determined path, I could only forge my own.

And I thrived.

It offered the urgency the old world never had. I had hated studying, yet I relished the research of runes. A passion for intellectual pursuit arose from within, and I never whipped myself into working. I fell into a series of experiments, a trial and error acting as a dance between ideas and reality.

As was the case in all kinds of creation, failure arose far more than triumph. I relished it. I failed no exams. I endured no harsh judgment. I listened to the desire to continue, and it roared in my mind, a lingering echo playing out as the hours passed. My fist was my hammer. The heat of plasma coils was my furnace.

In the tent, people passed, and they murmured under their breath about a brute who shouldn't be here distracting the others. I never allowed them to distract me. In time, the sun came up after a few hours, but that wasn't a reason to stop. Without a need for sleep, I continued. By the time my mind began wandering during my task, I'd made three different swords.

One would brandish fire when unsheathed, but it only flashed ablaze at that moment. The fire died seconds later; the blade was all spark and no blaze. The second sword unleashed a thin, static edge on its surface. It only offered a distraction if the static hit someone before the edge landed or during a clash.

The last blade gushed wind from the edge of the blade. It slowed the strikes by a hair, but it also helped parry and block incoming attacks. After a while, I tried my hand at yet another creation, but this other sword resonated as mana poured in. The runes didn't come together, and the energies spiraled into chaos. Seconds later, I leaned over the blade as it exploded.

Glowing fragments embedded into my skin. I turned to a few worried soldiers. I scratched the back of my head.

"Heh. Sorry about that."

They gawked at me. Obviously, my failure surprised them, and not the glowing shards of metal jutting out of my neck. I ripped the fragments out and continued. After several minutes, I immersed myself in my work once more. A firm grip clasped my shoulder, and I held down an incredibly manly squeal.

I turned, finding Kessiah staring at me with a new scar tracing down her cheek. She grinned, though something about the expression felt forced.

"Yo, I just want to say thanks for the save. I was dead if you didn't tank that for me."

I set what was left of my supposed sword down as my armor peeled back, exposing my face.

"Eh, no problem. I'd actually say you earned some thanks for not letting Dakhma kill us. So, uh, thanks. In fact, keeping us alive might even trump getting punched in the face."

She frowned.

"Or getting stabbed in the gut?"

I shrugged.

"I'll be a pincushion as many times as it takes if that means we make it through this."

Her frown lessened. She searched for something in my eyes before sighing. She pointed somewhere in the distance.

"Mind if we talk for a minute?"

I held up the shattered sword.

"Eh, why not. I need a break anyway."

She reached up, pulling a shard out of my shoulder. Blood dripped down for seconds before the wound sealed. She winced.

"You think?"

We paced out of the camp before I noticed a Sentinel stationed nearby. He towered as tall as the houses beside him, and he offered an incredible safety net against the followers of Yawm should they rear their ugly heads. Torix probably told the overseer about Dakhma's interference.

That Sentinel guarded us in its ominous shadow, and it calmed us. If our camp and Yawm's were countries, then that Sentinel would be a nuclear deterrent. Despite that, Yawm acted as an even bigger nuke than our own. Hell, progressing from here on out seemed impossible. At any moment, a follower could dive down and kill us all. It left a few members of the camp gloomy, me included.

Those swarming worries died down as Kessiah closed in on a car door beside me. Apparently, empty car chats were a thing now, so I walked around the car and sat in the passenger seat. The car's weight and tires bent under the stress of supporting us, but it still held up while letting out a few groans of distress. I leaned back into my seat.

"So, what's up?"

Kessiah tapped a window.

"What are these even for?"

"Windows?"

"No, this metal block."

My eyes widened in recognition.

"Oh, these? They're cars. They helped our old society get around. The wheels would turn and get you places."

"I guess this is pre-space flight technology. Oof. Rough. It reminds me of some cooking utensils glued together."

I scoffed.

"Like rolling pins under a cheesegrater?"

She laughed.

"Yeah. Whoever made this obviously wasn't too concerned with efficiency."

I reached up and flicked a car window. Cracks splintered over the windshield.

"Yeh, it's pretty abysmal compared with a spaceship, but you could say that about damn near everything we have on our planet technology-wise...But, yeah, what did you want to talk about?"

She put her hands on the wheel, turning it,

"Well, I was wondering if you could explain how you survived that hit from Dakhma. You should probably be dead."

I opened my character screen.

"Take a look and find out."

She gasped.

"What? 20,000 health before level 300...Wow. Gotta admit I'm impressed."

I weighed my hands back and forth.

"It's mainly from trees and some other bonuses."

She continued.

"I'm impressed by how unbalanced your build is. Sheesh. Only endurance, huh?"

I deadpanned.

"It held up when it mattered, didn't it?"

She scratched her cheek.

"You could argue that you could've gotten more done with some strength."

I met her eye.

"And you could also argue the sun is blue, but it's not exactly productive, is it?"

She nodded.

"Fair enough."

A few awkward seconds passed before she turned to me in a sudden rush.

"Look, I want to know how you got so strong at such a low level. It's kind of crazy, if I'm being honest."

I leaned back into the car door.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

She met my eye.

"I'm serious."

My sarcastic tone fell as I leaned back up.

"Oh...Ok. Sorry. Hmm...I got strong from my armor, my trees, and my build. They make me effective, though not exactly physically powerful. I guess I focused on using what I had, and it all came together over time. To be fair, I don't actually feel strong. I feel like a walking and talking punching bag sometimes."

She frowned.

"Your build shouldn't be able to kill anyone or anything. It's so lopsided into endurance that you should just be a health sack at this point. You know, a walking blood bag for some parasitic eldritch to suck dry...But you aren't. Not by a longshot."

I considered what she said.

"Hm. So early on, I gained this tree called the Determinator. It gives me a ton of extra endurance and willpower, and I mean to the multiplier, not raw stats. It also doubles my regeneration too."

Kessiah furrowed her brow.

"If that's the case, then shouldn't you need even less endurance than a normal person?"

The windows of the car fogged from our breath. I raised a hand.

"It's the opposite. Endurance feeds into willpower, so every point of endurance is worth many more stat points than most others stats. A normal person puts a point into a stat then gets a third more from attribute feeding at most. I get one and a half then two thirds a stat point. The chain continues, and I get a fifth a stat point and so on. Anyway, the point is, I'm getting about two and a half stat points per one spent. A normal person would get, like, one and a third at most, usually less."

Kessiah pinched the bridge of her nose.

"But you're investing your points in useless stats. It's why endurance is rarely invested heavily in - it doesn't synergize with either willpower or intelligence at all."

I smiled.

"Blood magic."

Kessiah face palmed.

"No shit? Oh man, that explains a lot. You get the regen from willpower and the mana from intelligence as health. You're a bulk lord now. Hah. That's so dumb."

I tapped the side of my temple while raising my eyebrows.

"So dumb it's smart, right?"

Kessiah rolled her eyes.

"No, it's lucky is what it is."

I raised my palms.

"Ok, maybe, but I'd argue there are no useless stats. Besides that, I'm able to burn my health, mana, and stamina on extra levelling perks because of the Determinator tree. That makes me faster, stronger, and quicker to react without reducing my longevity in a fight. I end up needing less well rounded stats across the board because of the levelling perks for dexterity and perception."

Kessiah leaned back, the leather chairs squeaking.

"And usually those are skipped. That's how your mind is both percieving and keeping up with the battles as they get faster and faster paced."

I nodded.

"It is."

Kessiah sighed.

"So, you're relying on the per level bonuses to carry your combat abilities while burning extra resources to bridge the rest of the gap. It's a novel approach, though I've seen it tried a few times. It usually comes with the downside that the warrior isn't durable while strong or strong while durable. They end up having to pick and choose when to burn their health, mana, and stamina pools."

Kessiah scoffed.

"Burning your resource totals is extremely difficult to balance in the middle of a fight, and I have a lot of respect for immolators. You're different. I don't see that same balance in your approach."

I counted on my fingers.

"First off, that's because I'm inexperienced and still have a lot to learn. Secondly, I have way more health regen than you're average person. I'm talking an unholy amount."

Kessiah leaned forward.

"Show me that status again."

I did so. She whistled.

"Wow. That's...Wow. Even an endurance specialist would normally only have 500 or so. You're rocking nearly ten times that amount. In fact, a person's health total usually outpaces their regeneration by leaps and bounds as time passes. They can take several hits, but they can't recover from them, but your regeneration is the opposite. In fact, it's way better than it has any right to be."

I tapped my shoulder plate.

"That's from the armor. It gives health, damage resistance, and regen. Tons of it."

Kessiah raised a hand.

"That's it. That's what's pulling this sloppy build together. You're abusing that armor and its bonuses for all they're worth alongside a stat tree you shouldn't even have."

I shrugged.

"Oh, absolutely. And I'd argue I should abuse these benefits for all they're worth. After all, it's something I'm stuck with, and from the looks of things, I figured I might as well get my money's worth, right?"

Kessiah smirked.

"Right. Hm, I can see how the situation played out as it did, but it's a bit disheartening seeing how quickly you're amassing power. For instance, I wasn't nearly as strong as you are at your level."

I took a breath.

"You want me to be honest with you?"

She flung her hand.

"Well, duh."

I gestured to her.

"I don't think there's some secret to my efficiency. Personally, I think you haven't been using your strength well. Like, at all."

She leaned back and crossed her arms.

"Really now...What makes you say that?"

I raised a hand, counting on my fingers once more.

"For starters, I'm better at hand-to-hand combat than you."

She smiled, the expression light yet threatening.

"I could kill you ten times over. Easily."

I furrowed my brow.

"Why?"

She took a breath.

"Does it matter?"

I scoffed.

"Of course it does."

"Ok, ok, my levels and skills."

I turned a palm to her.

"That's my point. If your level wasn't higher than mine, you wouldn't be able to beat me as I am now."

Her brow furrowed. I continued.

"Sure, I've had a few years of experience with boxing, and I've really pushed myself since Schema took over. But still, you should still be able to beat me, easily in fact, when it comes to raw skill. But...You can't. That's a problem."

She leaned to me, her eyes narrowed.

"Alright, bigshot, if you're so convinced, why don't we fight right now?"

I raised a fist.

"You're on...Though I don't think that actually addresses anything I've said."

Kessiah deflated.

"Ok, maybe, maybe. But yeah, basically, you're saying I need to get my skills up to par?"

I shrugged, glancing out the window.

"I don't know why exactly. Half of what I know about close combat probably doesn't even work whenever you're slinging power poles at your enemy. I will say this, though - that who-cares-I'm-a-high-level mentality is stopping you from progressing."

Kessiah turned to face outside. She tapped her forearm with a finger for a few seconds, deep in contemplation. After a moment, she uncrossed her arms.

"I'll think it over. Is there anything else you can think of?"

I weighed my hands back and forth.

"From here, I'm throwing out some wild guesses. Firstly, I think the way you fight isn't well-rounded. You don't have any range or ways to stop enemies from moving. Enemies like Dakhma will crush you with the way you are."

I turned a palm to her.

"Not saying my way of fighting is perfect either, but you've had plenty of time to fix these faults. You decided not to, or you decided it wasn't a weakness. Honestly? I don't know exactly what you need to do. The thing is...There's work that needs to be done. A lot of it."

Kessiah furrowed her brow.

"Thanks for reminding me."

I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Anytime, anytime."

She shoved my hand away, a smile on her lips. She raised a brow.

"Alright, not-quite-so-little man. How about I give you some advice, too?"

I put my hands behind my head.

"Oh man, that's going to be hard when you're this perfect."

She rolled her eyes before grabbing the door handle. I tapped her shoulder.

"I'm being entirely sarcastic, and any feedback would be deeply appreciated."

"Where'd that humility come from?"

I remembered the fight before shivering.

"From having my guts say hi to the atmosphere earlier than I'd like."

She turned to me and nodded.

"Yeah. That's a wake-up call for anybody. It was for me, too. To be frank, I hadn't lost a fight in a while. Decades, to be more precise."

She cupped her chin.

"It might have been before Torix and I had a falling out. Crazy times back then."

I leaned forward a little, curious as a kid. She flicked my nose, making me lean back. She grinned all of a sudden.

"Ha ha! You wanna know about that, don't you?"

I frowned.

"I mean, I could be a little curious."

Kessiah relaxed a little.

"Advice first. Here-" She reached out a hand and flicked just shy of my forehead. For a moment, her hand was like a grim reaper's scythe as a plume of wind followed her motion. The car window exploded behind me as my hair flew back. I blinked as my life flashed before my eyes. She leaned forward and whispered.

"You're not invincible, and you never will be. That's why you can't keep fighting like you'll survive every hit because, at some point, you won't."

She leaned back.

"How's that for advice?"

I gasped.

"Enlightening."

She crossed her arms, the cool breeze rushing in from the window.

"But as for me and Torix's history, I suppose you earned a little piece of why. Torix and I met after Alfred left. Torix, he was devastated and was on the hunt. Honestly, I was glad he left his little moon base. You probably already noticed, but Torix is a homebody. He never leaves his lair, and that can make things a little stale from time to time."

I leaned into my seat.

"You make it sound like you enjoy traveling. Do you?"

She peered into the distance.

"Aghh, I love it. It kind of comes with the territory, being a remnant and all. We live on ships that go across the universe. Going from place to place is more in my blood than the changed genes will ever be."

Her eyes glowed, mana abound.

"Though I'm pretty sure some people would argue. Anywho, Dakhma mentioned it, but the remnants were a single species before we began splicing our genes. With a bit of telomerization, we can live forever, too. It's one of the first gene splices we mastered, and it carries no real downside. Well outside of the arbitrarily placed ones from Schema."

She chewed on nothing.

"Ugh. Fuck that robot."

She tapped her chin, glancing at the roof of the car.

"This conversation has got me nostalgic. I actually remember back when I was a kid. I'd run through the tight hallways in my parent's ship, and they'd always scream at me to stop running. I think I did it more for their attention than anything else. They had a habit of being too busy to bother with me much."

I winced, painful memories resurfacing in my own mind.

"I can relate, and yeah, that sucks."

She waved her hand.

"I don't need the sympathy of some newborn, and let's not derail the discussion too much. Anyway, I told Torix that what he really needed to do was change himself. He thought that his mistake with training Alfred was what made the poor guy leave. I said it was because he was forcing himself on the kid. What kind of disciple wants to be an undead necromancer when they're so young?"

I peered into the distance.

"Is it being a necromancer or just having someone decide who and what you'll be?"

"Probably both. When we met, Torix went on rants about how he wanted his son to live up to his potential and all that. I argued that it was Alfred's life and that he could do what he wanted. Torix said, and I quote, 'Ah, myes, you wish for him to become a wandering leech in a similar vein of destitution as yourself. Oh, pish posh, humbuggery. Did I mention I'm a skeleton that enjoys nagging? Allow me to elaborate that point in a dozen different ways.'"

I laughed before she raised her hand.

"I'm telling you. He said that word for word."

"Sure, sure."

She let her hands rest on the car wheel.

"Oh man, somehow you found me out. So yeah, there might've been a slight exaggeration. Regardless, I was hurt by what he said, but looking back, he was right in a lot of ways. Maybe not about his son, but he was right about me. Being a remnant, my genes were made for power. I was born with battle in my blood, and I never had to fight to become strong."

Kessiah stared at me.

"That's why when I look at you and how hard you fight...I can't help but feel weak in comparison. I'm stronger in body but weaker in my mind. So yeah, maybe you have a point."

I nodded, silent as she spoke. It could be hard to listen at times, but I learned a bit from Althea about how useful it could be to hear someone out. After all, sometimes, an open ear was all someone needed. Kessiah glanced away and shook her hands.

"Ah fuck, I'm rambling now. You must be bored. Sorry about this."

I waved my hands.

"Not at all. It's interesting. I didn't know much about you and Torix, so it's nice to hear about your history."

I grinned.

"Even if it is a bit of a tangent."

She hit my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

She leaned back before stretching her arms out in front of her. She cracked her knuckles.

"Thanks for listening. I feel way better about all this stuff. My mind's clear."

I tapped her shoulder, "Don't worry about it. Anytime you need a car-versation, I'll be ready and waiting."

Kessiah rolled her eyes before opening the car door.

"Puns. They're so lame."

"Eh, everyone's lame sometimes. Me included."

She stepped out of the car, the calm wind outside refreshing us both and carrying our hair in its grasp. I stood outside and admired the open sky, though a group of gray clouds loomed in the distance. Kessiah smiled wide.

"Ah yeah, I forgot to mention it. Are you ready for Torix's new plan for clearing out Springfield?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"What could he even scrape together out of this situation? It's looking pretty bleak."

She clapped her hands together.

"Something you'll learn about Torix is that when he says he has a plan, he means it."

She turned.

"So get ready for a three-hour lecture."

My shoulders drooped.

"Ah, man. Not again."