The first shot drew the attention of not just one, but both of the nearby elite demons, at which point Pete quickly realized that he was thoroughly outmatched and destined to end this run in a number of neatly sliced pieces. The combat knife was an effective cutting and thrusting weapon, but it was far less effective against the larger and heavier blades wielded by the elite demons.
Not keen to have to restart the session, Pete opted for running rather than getting caught between the two brutes, so he turned and bolted as they charged toward him. Unfortunately, a withering burst of machine-gun fire from across the other side of the river had forced the bulk of the Company forces to Pete's right to stampede like a herd of cattle toward his location.
Desperate to get clear of the lethal gunfire, hundreds of lumbering hobgoblins and their smaller cousins swamped Pete and the two pursuing demons, battering them with flailing limbs and weapons. It felt to Pete like being pummeled with stones as he hunched down, trying to protect himself and to keep from being trampled.
The hulking demons sliced with their swords, kicking at the oncoming troops but unable to stand against the flood of scared and highly motivated soldiers. One of the demons fell, its body battered beneath stomping boots, while the other roared in frustration, trying to bat away the soldiers with the flat of its blades.
As the staccato gunfire from the machine guns began to stop, the crowd of stampeding soldiers thinned. The burst of fire had scattered the front lines of the Company advance, forcing a haphazard retreat and leaving dozens of dead and wounded on the sand behind.
Pete crouched low, hunched over and smarting from a hundred different bruises. He still held the combat blade in his right hand, but it was now sticking out of his thigh.
"Fuuuuuuuuuck!" he screamed, ripping the blade free and sending a gush of blood pouring out onto the ground. "Fucking fuck!" he shouted, hopping over to the twitching corpse of the trampled rebel demon.
[Craig] Are you okay?
[Pete] Still alive. Not sure how much longer though.
He slumped down beside the demon and gripped the combat blade two-handed. One midnight black eye looked up at Pete. The other was badly bruised and looked as though it had been pushed deep into the creature's skull.
"None of this is real," Pete reminded himself. "It's all just a fucking game."
The demon's smaller arms unfurled from its chest cavity, reaching out to Pete almost pleadingly. With a grunt of effort, Pete slammed the blade down into the demon's skull, splitting the bone and piercing through to the meat beneath as gore squirted up into his face. Pete spat, wiping the blood from his face with one hand as the demon disintegrated and his knife came free from the rebel's skull.
>> ELITE KILL: 500 Belch Bucks
>> AVAILABLE RELICS:
+| Profitguard Dog Tag: +5% Damage Reduction when carrying more than 500 credits.
+| Auditor's Eye Monocle: +5% Accuracy. Detects invisible or disguised enemies up to 50 ft.
+| Turtle Tutelage Shield: Whilst activated, the bearer holds a small shield capable of withstanding significant direct and glancing damage. The bearer's head will also turn into that of a turtle while the relic is active. [Crafted by Drusilla Seabirth of the Seven Vines]
[Craig] You should take the damage reduction.
[Pete] Accuracy would be better for you.
[Craig] No chance. You're up close, and you're gonna need the defense. Sooner than you think.
Pete turned and saw the third elite demon, not nearly as hurt as the one he'd just killed, practically growling as it dragged its remaining sword along the ground.
"Shit!"
Pete selected the Dog Tag, but something went wrong with the choice, and he accidentally picked the Turtle Tutelage Shield. A string of curse words left his lips as the trinket was activated. He squatted down, holding one arm out protectively with the combat knife in his right hand as the surrounding scene shifted and Pete was met by a riot of color.
The vivid red of the demon rebel's chest was far richer and more profound, as was the blue in the sky above and a range of other colors that now screamed at Pete in an overwhelming flood of vibrancy. But with that color came a complete loss of clarity. Instead of seeing the crisp outline of his demon enemy, Pete now saw a blurred figure swinging a dark shadow at his head, which he took to be the demon's huge sword.
"Fuck!" he blurted, bracing himself for the attack.
Instead of the onyx sword carving through his arm and putting a rapid end to the run, however, the blow was deflected as a small round shield about two feet across materialized on Pete's forearm. Not only did the shield deflect the blow with ease, but the impact was cushioned so that it didn't jar his arm or drive him back.
Pete stabbed forward with his combat blade, able to make out the indistinct shape of the demon, but completely without definition. He felt the blade connect as a rush of violent crimson bloomed in his vision. The demon hissed, swiping with its shadow blades, but the turtle shield was up to the task.
Holding his left arm up protectively, Pete backed away, deflecting each blow from the huge demon and waiting for the right moment before stepping in with his blade and slashing. It was like fighting a blob of color, but he found that the protection the shield offered meant that he could withstand the rebel's attacks and time his strikes to be most effective.
Unfortunately, it was like fighting half-blind, and, as other figures came into view and surrounded him, that blindness became absolute.
[Pete] What the hell is going on?
He backed away, looking left and right as green figures emerged alongside the large crimson demon and a confusing blur of movements and sounds.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
[Craig] Several of the Corporation troops have moved in to help. Back away and let them take the brunt of the damage while you recover from...what is that on your head?
Pete took a few steps back, watching in confusion as the green shapes surged into the gap he left, shouting various slogans and encouraging words as the crimson shape was swallowed up. He raised his hand and felt the leathery, scaly skin that now ran from his neck up to his head.
[Pete] I can't see shit with this new relic!
[Craig] Perhaps you can turn the relic off and use it only when you need the protection?
Pete looked up to the top of his vision and saw the relic symbols lined up next to each other, crystal clear in contrast to the murky, colorful vision he now possessed. He tried to mentally click the symbol and turn the relic off, but there was no response.
[Pete] Can't do it. Looks like I'm stuck like this.
Panic grew in Pete's mind as he considered the implications of what this meant for the game, the larger contest, and his mother.
[Pete] I'm done. I mean, I can still fight and I might even hit something every now and then, but it's all blurred to shit. I'm gonna be useless if I have to fight more than one enemy too.
[Craig] Perhaps I can be your eyes then? At least you have a means of protecting yourself.
[Pete] Yeah, but that's all I'm gonna be doing if I can't see what I'm hitting.
The sound of triumphant shouts nearby drew Pete's attention back to the crimson blur he had been fighting moments earlier. The figure fell and Pete heard the sounds of naked blades being thrust into flesh.
>> ELITE KILL [ASSISTED]: 250 Belch Bucks
>> AVAILABLE RELICS:
+| Ultra Burst Mag: one in four chance of six shots firing in rapid succession [only one bullet will be used if the Ultra Burst function triggers].
+| Rebel Bartering Bead: +5% Sell Price Bonus when purchasing relics.
+| Hooman Finger Fix: Any human players are granted an additional thumb on each hand. This thumb can be added to either the left or right side of the hand. [Crafted by BOOOG]
Curiously, the relic symbols and descriptions were crystal clear in Pete's vision. He selected the Ultra Burst Mag and transferred it to Craig, paying the required price for the trade, which Craig immediately accepted.
[Craig] Many thanks, Pete.
[Pete] No trouble. You're gonna need all the help you can get keeping my ass alive!
Pete's reply was cut short as he was thudded on the back by several nearby Company soldiers. They offered gravelly congratulations before moving off toward the wagon procession, which was now little more than an indistinct collection of shapes and colors in Pete's vision.
[Craig] I'm heading to you now. I suggest we move away from the wagons and attempt to find a safe path across the river.
Pete moved slowly in the direction he thought Craig meant, holding his shield arm ready and the elongated knife in his right hand. The dead bodies and mangled plant life surrounding him were now a blur of indistinct, vibrant colors. He could see clearly enough to make out different forms, of course, but nothing close to what human eyes could see.
Once more, Pete tried to shut off the turtle relic, but he could see no way to do it. He looked up at the giant floating figure in the distance, which could only have been the harpy, and tried to make out the numbers. An orange blur hung above the monstrous creature's head, but he couldn't make out the time.
[Craig] I'm coming up behind you.
Pete stopped walking, turning around as a small green figure approached.
"You look...odd," the little goblin said.
"Yeah. This Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shit isn't what it's cracked up to be."
"I do not understand."
Pete waved it away. "Never mind. Let's just keep going. See if we can—"
A whistling sound from above prompted Pete to stop talking. He looked up into the sky, trying to determine where the incoming mortar shell would land. Craig grabbed him by the hand and yanked him to the right.
"RUN!" the little goblin screamed as several more whistling sounds filled the air.
Pete stumbled beside Craig as they made their way across the battlefield. The sound of fighting was continuing all around them, along with a confusing mishmash of movement and color. There was a lot of green with the occasional slash of crimson here and there, which Pete took to be rebels. Guns fired, blades were thrust, soldiers cried out in pain or warning, and it all melted together into a confusing din.
All of that changed as the mortar shells landed. The battlefield was torn apart in a riot of deafening sound and flying debris. The ground shook beneath Pete's feet, but before he had a chance to register what was going on, he was punched so hard that his ribs broke and his right arm was dislocated as his body went flying backward, blown into the air a moment before a second explosion engulfed him in flame and a lethal shower of shrapnel.
>> YOU HAVE DIED
>> RESURRECTION PENALTY: 100 Belch Bucks
>> RESURRECTION DEBT PAID!
>> FIGHT ON, SOLDIER!
Pete blinked, staring out at the tropical scene as he stood beside Craig on the ship off ramp. Everything ahead of him was still a blur, but out of curiosity and desperation, he once more tried to turn off his turtle relic. This time, as he mentally clicked on the turtle symbol, it shimmered for a moment with golden light and then turned a dull gray hue.
Pete's vision immediately clarified, and he felt his head return to its normal human proportions.
"Thank God," he breathed, turning to Craig. "Looks like you can turn them on or off at the start of a run, but not in the middle."
The little goblin nodded, looking out at the battlefield.
"We are still so far from our goal."
Pete nodded. "Yeah, but this isn't a roguelike at all. Not like I thought it was, at least."
He motioned to the charged ground beneath them and the blood-stained cavalcade of torture victims, slogans, and cages. The wagons had been overrun with Company troops, and the larger group was pushing closer and closer to the river and the fortress area beyond.
"We're not really starting from the beginning each time. I mean, we end up back here with full health, and there's a deduction from the total time we're allotted for the game, but we keep all of our relics after each run, and the battle is still progressing, rather than resetting each time."
Craig blinked, turning to face Pete. "And that is a good thing?"
"I think so, yeah. It means we don't have to fight our way through the early parts of the battle just to get back to where we died the last time. That will make it easier for us to get to the boss."
He looked up at the giant harpy and the clock ticking above her head.
"Then again. Shit. No, this makes it harder. Much harder."
"How so?"
Pete pointed down at the expanse just in front of them, a space that had been clocked with newly arrived Company soldiers when they initially arrived but which was now a blood-soaked battlefield littered with the dead and dying, the ground battered by explosive detonations.
"If we had to fight our way through a bunch of enemies here, they'd get easier and easier to kill because we'd have more relics each time. Those bonuses quickly add up, so we'd get a bunch of easy kills working our way back to where we died. Even if that only means picking up some cash, we miss out on that now."
Craig nodded. "Instead, we'll be running over clear ground."
"Exactly. No enemies, so no chance of picking up more money or relics until we reach the front lines. But it's worse than that. The battlefront is moving closer and closer to the harpy, and even though the Corporation is suffering huge casualties, there are more and more coming."
As if to illustrate his point, three new troop carriers landed to their right, doors opening to admit dozens more troops that charged excitedly across the ground and toward the fighting.
"Even though the Corporation is portraying itself as the underdog in this scenario, they're sure as hell not going to let the enemy win. That would send the wrong kind of message, so they'll make sure they keep sending more and more troops until the job gets done."
"But surely that can only aid us?"
Pete shook his head. "It will get us closer to the boss, but we'll miss out on the opportunity to gather more relics. Every time we die and come back here, we need to quickly get back to the battlefront and find more elite enemies to kill because every second we waste, our options are shrinking. Eventually, the Corporation soldiers will be fighting the harpy and, once that happens, we're probably not gonna be able to get more relics. Whatever we've got is it, and if we're not strong enough to kill the harpy with what we have..."
He didn't bother finishing the thought. It was clear from the look on Craig's face that the goblin understood.
Pete pointed up to the digital numbers counting down above the harpy's head.
"That's not the only timer in this game. We've got a limited time to get as many relics as we can. And we're gonna have to get our asses into gear if we want to win this thing."
Craig looked out toward the river. "Then we run."
Pete nodded. "We run."