Battleforged: Book 1 - THE BILLION CREDIT HEIST - An Earth Apocalypse LitRPG Adventure

Eric couldn’t deny how surreal it felt, returning back to the colosseum, so many thousands of desperate anxious eyes pinning his blood-spattered form. The trio of gunner girls weren’t even properly aiming at him, just gazing at him and the powerfully built mercenaries walking beside him and in the bone stretchers with an odd sort of hunger that almost made him prefer the cannons. But he wasn’t a stuck-up prickly asshole about to take offense at anyone’s appreciation, no matter how awkward he felt. So he just smiled and nodded their way, earning flushed cheeks and awkward smiles in turn.

And maybe it didn’t help that he was still naked, save for the marks of ritual and the blood of battle, wearing nothing more than a pair of tight-fitting jeans that somehow looked spotless, the blood and grime flaking right off, his pants smelling like he had just pulled them fresh from the dryer. As if this were a scene in a movie and he had been dressed for the part, or like he was in a Levise commercial, of all things. And it wasn’t like it was his fault or he had planned it. It’s just that nothing else he wore, including jury-rigged armor, survived the sheer stress and abuse that 779 Quickness and 531 Strength put through pretty much any mortal fabric or material. Too bad his Phoenix evolution had cost him his perfectly nice mithril hauberk and helm.

Then he blinked, realizing that he was being an idiot.

His soul-bound quilted gambeson had served him perfectly well as a padded undergarment for almost his entire ascension! Before he had blazed through, however temporarily, to Gold. He just needed some nice shirts and shoes to go with his artifact-tier pants to soul-bind with a bit of blood and a dash of panache, and he would be set with naturally resilient and self-regenerating threads!

He sighed. He’d get serious about getting some decent clothes, and some fresh armor he’d bind and reinforce with as many strength and resiliency runes as he could fit on them, along with a nice heaping of his essence, just as soon as he had the chance. After tonight. When he actually had the resources and time.

Then he forced himself to focus on his immediate environment, the massive arena filled with the stink of unwashed bodies, burning piles of porcine flesh still in the stands, even if most had been reforged as revenants utterly loyal to his cause, along with the eldritch stench of foul portal magics Eric had thankfully ruptured. Yet cutting through all of that was the enticing aroma of stew. Which meant that someone, probably the surviving remnants of Blue Corp, had managed to put together a soup kitchen for the thousands of hungry souls taking shelter in here.

Eric thought the soup kitchen a fantastic move for establishing a sense of solace, normalcy, keeping up order and morale as well as subtly weaving and reinforcing what was now a too small faction’s seniority and authority over the thousands of survivors presently being told to keep calm and stay put. Since Freetown itself still had pockets of corruption that went beyond savage humanoids and confused, disorganized slavers.

Eric knew damn well why Caliban hadn’t began organizing the newly armed classers, even if most had little more orc javelins for spears, the most classic and arguably the most favored of all ancient weapons, who could be earning experience and boosting morale with the rescue and recovery of the entire city.

It would have been the tactically prudent move, save for one major problem.

Eric sighed and shook his head as he slipped him and his injured and newly hired mercenaries through the crowd to the inner circle of individuals occupying of the giant-sized arena.

Of course he knew he was just distracting himself from the looks of desperation and the angry mutters of the crowd. Or even worse, adoration and misplaced hope.

“There he is! He’s the one who rescued us. He’s the one who’s going to save Freetown!”

“Destroy it, more like. Kid’s a bloodthirsty savage, Marge. Don’t let the handsome smile fool you.”

“Mommy? I’m hungry. Is that man the one who made all the zombies?”

“Shush, dear. It’s not polite to stare. Now be patient. The nice blue elves will give us food soon.”

“Look! Those men are wearing powered armor. And some of them are in stretchers of bone?”

“Well that dude Eric is a Necromancer King, right? Think he’ll be taking over Freetown, now?”

“No shit he will. We’re being held hostage by a thousand zombies.”

“They’re protecting us.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Eric smiled awkwardly when too many hopeful stares met his own before dipping his head politely and doing his best to avoid everyone, especially when polite curiosity became desperate pleas for food, water, and shelter. And under any other circumstances, many of the requests would have been so easy to address.

“Please, we just want to go home! Can we all go home?”

“Everyone, settle the fuck down! There’s plenty of soup and bread for everyone!” Roared a powerful baritone voice that Eric didn’t recognize. “Lord Caliban will be authorizing a return home just as soon as the city’s safe! And those of you willing to room and board any of the rescuees or families that don’t have homes will receive vouchers and credits that will be redeemable in the Blue quarter! Now organize yourselves and fill out the forms your Blue Corp representatives have handed you. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can all go home and start earning credits! Those of you looking for fresh employment opportunities will be selected based on both your background skills and on your behavior here tonight!”

Eric couldn’t quite hold back a smile despite the general blood and horror of the night, the air smelling of anxiety, sweat, blood, and, strangely enough… hope.

For Caliban, master administrator that he was, was doing his best to keep up morale and bring order to what could otherwise be a violent panicked crowd at risk of destroying their own home. Yet with the soup kitchen and a friendly-sounding drill-sergeant like voice bringing order to the crowd, they were now falling into what was for many, the comforting and familiar sight of employment lines and bureaucracy. And if Eric’s friend actually managed to bring stability, shelter, and work to these people in their most desperate hour, he’d have devoted employees for life.

Yet Eric couldn’t quite hold back the pity in his smile, all of Blue Corp in all it’s vaunted glory having been reduced, here on Earth, to what looked to be a few score of Professionals organizing and tending to the needs of the thousands in the crowd, and a handful of sickly-looking men and women who seemed barely capable of holding the Tier-1 blasters at their hip. Men and women who Alex guessed were some of the very few survivors of what looked to have been a very nasty poison. And this was after whatever resources or magic Caliban could bring to bear to aid in their recovery.

Eric took a deep breath, even as Bjorn chuckled softly through his broken teeth and jaw. “I can see why you were so eager to hire us, kid.”

Eric gazed down at the man he was gently carting along in his bone-wheel supported stretcher, a solemn-faced Enz bringing along a still recovering Reese and Gil in similar necromantically constructed conveyance vehicle.

He smirked, denying nothing. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Of course Caliban was already well on his way to recruiting both competent looking adventurers and other unemployeed mercenaries with tempting offers. But just one look at the man’s desperate gaze when Eric’s eyes spied Caliban across the crowd told Eric all he needed to know.

Caliban whispered a few quiet words with what looked to be his inner circle; bright-eyed, intelligent-looking men and women who immediately saluted their leader and went to work organizing both the survivors and the sustenance being provided for them as they waited in what were now well organized lines to speak to the politely smiling men and women sitting on makeshift tables with chairs on either end, happy to receive the papers they were handed and answer whatever questions were being thrown their way. Even the questions that were more like screaming accusations they handled with aplomb that Eric found nothing short of noteworthy.

“I see you’ve brought along some new faces,” Caliban said with a pointed look at the four badly injured mercenaries radiating Bronze-tier potency.

Alex smiled and nodded. “My new friend Bjorn here is eager to join our winning team!”

Bjorn wheezed with laughter. “That’s one way of putting it,” he said, before giving Caliban a measuring look. “From what I can see, you guys are on your last legs, here.”

Caliban’s half smile faded as his gaze flattened, saying nothing at all.

Bjorn snorted. “Your boy’s a fine ace to have at your back, but you’re going to need more than one wildcard hero if you’re going to pull your faction back from the brink. Fortunately, if you’re looking for a strong unit that can keep you guys safe and sound until you get back on your feet, your boy couldn’t have run into a better team.”

Caliban gave the battered and broken man with his damaged power armored chassis a pointed look, earning a chuckle.

“Oh, I know. I know. Your boy was a perfect counter to us. But you see, it’s not about whether or not your champion can take us on. It’s whether or not our Hyperion Mark III’s can take out whatever threats will be smelling blood in the water, eager to claim this city for themselves. And the answer to that my friend, with our tactical skills, weapons training, and a chance to develop fallback positions and overlapping fields of fire is a most definite yes.” He then smirked at his own damaged chest plate. “And we, unlike all too many of our fellow armored companies, have invested our class evolutions and gear to be fully self sufficient.”

This earned a politely raised eyebrow. “Are you saying that you can repair your chassis with only the equipment you brought or can find locally?”

This earned a snort. “I’m saying we can repair it with potency alone!”

“That’s not the most efficient path,” snorted a grimly smiling Bronze-tier classer a short ways off, ambling toward them in power armor that had definitely seen better days.

“Maybe not,” Bjorn allowed. “But it’s great if your assignments bring you to hot spots that don’t always have choice loadout facilities on hand. And if you’re behind enemy lines, or find yourself in a newly ascending world… it’s perfect. Unless you want to go a high-mana steampunk route.” With that, he gave a pointed look at the man’s own armor with its patchwork construction, radiating both electromana tech, and highly magical bronze-reinforced plating.

The man snorted. “Yeah, you got me there. My girlfriend’s a Tinkerer and she’s gaining mad levels here, so I’m not going to complain. You want a drink?”

“Damn right, I do.”

“Name’s Ben,” The man said, handing Bjorn a flask of something bubbly and wicked looking. “Best sip that carefully in your condition. Now as soon as you catch your breath, how about you and I see if we can come to an understanding about what Blue Corp can do for you, and what you can do for Blue Corp.”

Caliban gave the salt-and-pepper haired Ben a nod, Eric sensing a whole crap-load being communicated with that single gesture, before turning to Eric, leading him away. “Let’s talk.”

Eric nodded, already feeling the heightened tension. “I didn’t know we had a Ben on staff.”

Caliban allowed himself a smile. “Grateful as I am to you, Eric, there is quite a bit you don’t know about me or my resources. He says thank you, by the way.”

Eric blinked at this. “For what?”

“One of the women you recently saved was his wife.”

“The tinkerer?”

“No. That’s his fiance. Soon to be secondwife. She says thank you as well.”

Eric just nodded. “Good. I’m all about saving lives when I can. I take it that this Ben is leading the military arm of Blue Corp?”

This earned a bitter smile from Caliban. “What little we have left, yes.”

Eric winced. “How bad is it?”

Caliban’s features tightened. “Bad, Eric.” He sighed, refusing to say anything further until they were well and truly away from the crowd. “Bad enough that if we can’t secure a territory of our own before the night’s end… there won’t be any Blue Corp at all.”

Eric froze, gazing at his business partner, whom he dared to think of as a friend, in horrified disbelief. “Are you… just how badly did the goblins fuck us all over?”

This earned a bitter chuckle. “Greed and Malice really outdid themselves this time, and that’s saying something. The good news, however, is that I have an inside man.” Intent eyes peered into Alex’s own. “He literally holds the key to saving our bank, and he and his companions are in desperate need of a safe escort back here.”

Eric’s heart pounded with a mix of exhilaration and hope. “So, there’s a chance.”

This earned a bitter smile. “A chance that we can save our bank, maybe. But Eric, I need… Blue Corp needs at least one territory free and clear that we can call our own. And this territory, as ideal as it would be…”

Eric forced himself to nod and accept the dread crawling up his spine. “Has basically been claimed by the Bronze-tier Squid-brain who shouldn’t even be here. Not even their low level counterparts that utterly overran Gilton and no one in my family will even talk about.”

“Exactly,” Caliban concurred, the odd mixture of gratitude, worry, and despair in his eyes plain as day for Eric to see. “And none of this should be your burden, I know. You’ve already done so much. Not just for Blue Corp… but for all of us, and our families, that call Blue our home.” Painfully intent eyes locked with Eric’s own. “After what you did for my wife, my children… I will never forget how much we owe you, my partner and friend.”

Eric swallowed the lump in his throat, patting the man’s shoulder, forcing a chuckle. “Sure you will. As soon as the day finally dawns, all you’ll remember is your charming yet annoying young wildcard partner, and that however things are by first light…”

“That’s how they would have always been,” Caliban said softly, with both awe and horror in his voice.

Eric smirked. “I just got your message. Quest accepted. I see his ping. Looks like our target holed up in a building midway between here and the bank and ooh… I do see a handful of reds.” Eric’s carefree voice turned hard and focused. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Caliban slowly nodded. “Yes, Eric. The insider you’re going to rescue is a goblin.”

Eric froze. “Excuse me?”

Caliban sighed, gazing pointedly at Eric’s clenched fist. “Not every goblin is a conniving, penny-pinching monster, Eric. Even if their entire culture is designed to reward such behavior and ruthlessly crush any and all deviations.”

Eric took a deep breath, more troubled to hear that than he wanted to admit. He jerked a quick nod. “Fine. I’ll grab him and bring him back. But I want a favor for you in turn.”

Caliban flashed a bleak smile. “Considering that my faction’s future and fortune is entirely in your hands…”

Eric’s icy gaze bore into Caliban’s cornflower blue eyes. “I need access to whatever techniques or insights there are on how best to counter a Squid Brain’s perception at the very least… and ideally how to ward myself from mental attacks… barring simply relying on the stat that neither you nor I nor any elf or half-elf has access to.”

Caliban sighed, closing his eyes, rubbing his brow. “The limitations I’m placed under, Eric…”

“Silver Phoenix is in effect, Caliban.” Eric flashed a bleak smile. “Surely if you were to explain allowed to that tiny shrubbery blowing in the breeze by the edge of the arena seats right there what any layman could do to protect themselves from unauthorized Bronze-tier Psionicists who shouldn’t even be on this newly ascending world under any circumstances, anyone else hearing it would be pure coincidence. And even that shouldn’t matter not at all, since all those unworthy will forget all of life’s traumatic particulars by first light where what will be… will have always been.”

Caliban gave Eric a long look, so many words clearly on the tip of his tongue, before he actually turned to face the bush and much to Eric’s profound surprise, actually did just that.

Less than a minute later, Eric found himself ghosting through the city streets far slower than he otherwise might. Yet as much as he had every intention of performing his rescue… it would mean absolutely nothing if cold Cthulian tentacles of darkest ichor and screaming revelations wound themselves tightly about his mind.

He suppressed a shiver as he steadily made his way along a cobblestone road, the once bright bronze cogs and gears that had spun about so lively on so many homes, giving the otherwise Renaissance-fair-like quarter of the city an almost steampunk air… yet was actually a cheap method of generating elecromana current, nearly enough to light up the entire goblin quarter, were all still and quiet. As was Eric. Who, at that moment, was as much the gentle drizzle raining on the slick cobblestone steps as he was the abandoned shop awnings, door lintels, hitching posts and the spindly trees swaying before the endless midnight breeze as he was the wild-eyed youth still covered in crimson runes and fashionable blue jeans and absolutely nothing else as he placed one naked foot in front of the other.

At that moment he felt both outside himself, controlling his own body like a marionette’s manipulated strings as he did the youth he was, his exquisitely sensitive and very human-looking ears bombarded by sharp screams, desperate sobs, and the hideous slithering sound of octopedian tendrils shifting their will upon the ether.

Yet the handful of frightened looking men who might have been low level adventurers, mercenaries, slavers or just terrified townsfolk to catch his eyes, all blanched at the sight of him before spinning about and running as fast as their two legs could take them. Those that caught sight of him at all. Over half seemed to look right past him, as if his mental trick was working on them as well. And Eric paid them no mind at all, his focus only upon his objective.

The building just up ahead, from which a woman’s desperate scream could be heard from, even now.

It was all he could do to keep up the mental exercise Caliban had conveyed so urgently to the innocent shrub. Doing his best to keep his mind still of all conscious thought. Still, and somehow incorporating his environment, every broken building of bronze, brick, and wood, every torn up cobblestones street, every mangled remains of tree, bush or flower. Because his earlier assumption that Blue Quarter alone had been hit had been a lie. Chaos had exploded forth in ways none could have predicted, save predict that such would always be the case, all the more so when Alex and his mother had first torn through the city… he quickly pushed such thoughts out of mind, sensing a vague discontented pressure that had been coalescing uncomfortably close to the building that of course was his ultimate destination.

A psionic pressure wave that was now turning back to him… before the tiny flicker of interest, much like the winter breeze, gusted by with no purchase to be found upon the windswept empty streets that the young half-naked man with no real thought or plan save the tiniest of kernels in the back of his mind to bloom only when the time was right… offered nothing of interest at all as a wandering Mind Lord’s focus returned once more to its prey, sibilant guttural words that sounded so like a dying man’s last wheeze shivered in the air.

“Return what you stole, Glick. Those papers are nothing to you. Return and you will be forgiven. Return and you will be rewarded!”

“Don’t listen to it, Glick! It’s trying to trick us!” Cried a female voice. And Eric would have been happy to throw in his own two cents, if he were anything more than the empty streets, or the wintry breeze, blowing into the lobby of a once posh hotel that had been all but destroyed in a single night, the chamber now filled with not just a few forgotten remnants but a full dozen tendril-waving octepedian horrors that clearly hadn’t fallen when Alex had taken on the brotherly duo that had thought to rule Freetown like the darkest of kings. Because it was now clear as hades that the Bronze-tier Octepedian horror was itself responsible for so much of the chaos happening within Freetown, and was no doubt well aware of the Blue Phoenix in play, thanks to its gifts and connections, and had been using those two fallen idiots as fall-guys and fronts for doing what even a harshly cursing Caliban had made clear was the most outrageous of violations that would have cost the creature its monstrous head at any other place or time.

Yet as things stood now… it was more than likely to get a free pass. All it’s crimes white-washed to utter and absolute nonexistence with the light of the coming dawn.

Unless of course Alex actually found a way to kill that abomination, which was looking less and less likely as the killing wrath he could no longer hide at the sight of a dozen infections abominations plodding toward the terrified looking party comprised of exhausted looking humans and a single goblin standing protectively over the men and women behind him so much like a front line tank or a hero, for all that he was armed with a blaster he was carefully using to blast open the skulls of the closest pair of abominations that.

Eric frowned. For an odd moment, Alex had thought the goblin a short, grey-skinned elf.

Yet no matter how noble his countenance, the goblin was just a heartbeat away from getting overwhelmed. And now a good half dozen of the horrors were turning his way.

In the split second he had as he sensed his foes building up their vile psionic attack, he struck, the night flaring bright with plasma fire from the soul-bound Deathblaze Eric had summoned forth, still doing his best to calm the furious passions of his heart, to rely on cold dispassionate death alone as streams of eye-searing plasma tore through the skulls of one squid puppet after another.

And even this was calculated, as the farmost trio of upright headless corpses stiffened and collapsed, the other nine both caught the spatter of exploding skulls and brains on their backsides... turned to glare and hiss Alex’s way. Before stumbling Eric’s way.

Which suited him just fine, he told himself, even as his guts roiled with horrified disgust he refused to acknowledge as lurching bodies snarled and glared before their skulls blossomed and unfurled like massive flesh petals revealing whipping tendrils covered in thorns and eyes and now all nine of the fully blossomed abominations were lurching right for him, lashing out with their eyeball laden limbs to tear through his flesh and no doubt infect him just as he had been infected by the wild card contender that had come so close to killing him.

Yet these hideous Cthulian puppets weren’t being controlled by power hungry newly awakened teenage psychopaths… but rather an ancient Bronze-tier puppet master Eric was dreadfully certain would take control of his elven flesh before he could even…

DUCK!

Danger sense suddenly screaming alarm, Eric didn’t hesitate to juke to the side and roll away as the ground beneath him cracked with the fearsome weight of a massive tendril that had popped free of the monstrous ogre shambling toward him even now, both arms turned into writhing masses of tentacles covered in furious glaring eyeballs, suckers, and thorns dripping with potent brain-rotting venom, Eric was damned sure.

Were it not for his absolutely monstrous Quickness and Speed Racer perk allowing him to bend inertia so well… A jolt of cold dread so sharp that he wanted to vomit washed over Eric as the ogre’s lips stretched wide in a smile so hideous… it reminded him of his own.

Which was all it took to snap free of stunned horror and fire his damn plasma rifle, the eyes all over the ogre having time only to widen in surprise before a massive hole penetrated its chest. Right where the heart would be.

Find Weakness skill check: Critical success!

It’s time you struck at the heart of the matter!

The ogre snarled, struggling to condemn or threaten, before its hundreds of eyes seemed to shrivel and wilt, Eric’s desperate hunch proving right. As horrific as the Lythid Mind Lord was… it could only infect living beings and was still dependent upon living metabolic processes to work its vile arts. Even if the ogre’s head had evolved into flesh petals, the neuro-networks on those specimens disseminated throughout the entire creature, all he had to do was strike the heart, still the flow of dead, and the whole damned thing would still die.

So when he spun around, heart most definitely not hammering in a panic that another puppet who managed to cloak its presence from his interface just as he had bluffed it out on the way over and it was now sneaking up to INFECT HIM!

He was both horrified and relieved to see that the remaining squid-puppets had lurched back to the shrieking party he was here to save. And as guilty as he felt at his own relief, the half dozen massive holes he blasted through each of the lurching horror’s spines, forcing them to drop and collapse without spattering his objectives with what might be infectious glop as he roared at the survivors to race to his side, he forgave himself the moment he saw that everyone was alive, gazing at him with either fear or awe, and that it looked like they might actually survive.

He took a relieved breath. “Good. You’re all alive. Come on, let’s get out of—”

“Hero, look out!” Cried a voice in such desperation.

But Eric was already turning, weaving past a pair of elongated tendrils covered with nerve toxin, dodging toxic spittle from a face so twisted and distorted with pulsating growths that it hardly looked human at all.

Another tentacled horror to slip past his interface, even his Tier II Danger Sense flaring with only an instant’s warning.

Transcendent Strike!

You have obliterated your opponent in Higher Order flame!

Infectious Thorns FAIL to penetrate Elegant Blue Jeans! (Artifact Tier fashion!)

Transcendent flame disintegrated all spores!

Skill Check made! You have minimized the potency of your kick! Your charges huddling behind you suffer no fatal backlash from transcendent flame!

A snap kick sent one swarming opponent stumbling back as Eric darted to position himself in front of the panicked humans and the exhausted looking goblin glaring down at his own cleaved off forearm, a vibro blade held in his other trembling hand.

Eric had only a split second to grudgingly respect the goblins courage and prudece as the tiny clawed limb burst into angry looking limbs bursting accusatory eyeballs, now glaring up at Eric.

“Abomination! How dare you use higher order concepts in a contested world! That alone will see you burn!”

The humans behind him winced and sobbed as the Lythid’s pronouncement of doom washed over them all, echoed by all the freshly arrived puppets seeming to pop up from everywhere on Alex’s interface, all swarming this location.

“This city is mine, human monkeys! And soon you will be too!” Chortled the inhuman voice, it’s gloating repeated by what were now dozens of throats. Yet the chortles soon became frustrated screams when the ground erupted with writhing fiery tendrils wrapping all the Mind Lord’s pawns in thorny limbs that blazed with white-hot fire.

Alex turned to the handful of exhausted-looking humans and the trembling, one-armed goblin.

“So, you must be Glick and company?”

“Yes!” Sobbed a beautiful young woman with green eyes and light brown hair reflecting pretty highlights in the blaze that Alex’s Hell Vines had started. “Thank you for coming to our rescue, hero! Right now we’re trying to make our way out of the city, and if you would be so gracious as to accompany us—”

Eric lifted up a finger. “One second.”

He then pulled free his blade, now blazing with higher order concepts of creation and destruction in the form of transcendent flame against the remnants of Glick’s arm, an instant before it could launch for Eric’s throat, obliterating it in the literal blink of an eye.

He then flashed his friendliest smile at the shell-shocked survivors. “Alright, My vines should take care of the Mind Lord’s pawns swarming this location, but this hotel’s a goner. So let’s get going while the going’s good!”

This earned a rueful smile from the handsomest of the humans present, Eric surprised to see the goblin more than happy to let the weaker human talk in his stead. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy friend…”

“Eric.”

“Eric. My name’s Timothy, this is my wife Bethany,” he said, pointing to the girl with the cute fiery brown highlights, “And these are our adventuring companions.”

“Yo, names Steve. I’m the obvious caster wearing the robes and carrying a fresh new wand, courtesy of the assholes who caged us,” said the obvious caster.

Timothy chuckled, giving his other shell-shocked friends who hadn’t spoken yet a bemused smile. “Some of us are still processing, but we’ll be right as rain, after a good night’s sleep. We’d be grateful for an escort, but now we need a safe way out of here. The sewers are one possibility, but…”

Whatever words the man was going to say was cut off when Eric sighed, went to the far wall, and struck it as hard as he could.

Power Strike!

You have successfully obliterated your target!

The party gazed on speechlessly at the massive hole Alex had torn through the wall with his fist and an explosion of flame, a pair of shambling horrors covered in eyeball-stalks pinned under burning chunks of rubble, a heartbeat before Eric’s resummoned blaster obliterated both their chests in streaks of arc-bright plasma.

“Tim, look at that wall.”

“I know, Steve.”

“I mean, there’s strong, but that’s half a foot of cement and rebar. And now there’s a ten-foot-wide hole in its place. To smash it with that much force… fuck. That’s like the kinetic force of a cannon ball. At least.”

“Yup.”

“And that blaster…”

“Let’s not talk about the blaster.”

Eric grinned, deciding he had absolutely no problem roaring out one of his favorite spells to cover the entire area. Even if this quarter of the city ended up erupting in fire, which he doubted, considering the other localized flames he had seen… but regardless, far better that the goblin quarter burn than he or his charges end up struck and infected by lurching Squid puppets that his interface WAS NOT PICKING UP!

“Fuck Bronze-tier shitheads and their skill evolutions,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hell Vines! Hell Vines, motherfuckers!” He roared, smiling with hot satisfaction when massive clusters of whipping vines alternating with what looked like blazing oaks, because now he could visualize and summon both variants with the same spell, and was more than happy with both, so long as his vines and trees now lining both sides of the street continued to grab the lurching, snarling monstrosities covered in squid tentacles and eyeballs, and fry them all to calamari.

Sure as hell, Eric was content to let them burn, having zero desire to animate a squid brain’s former toys.

He turned to the wide-eyed adventurers and a panting Glick. “Come on, guys. Just so happens that I’m on a mission of mercy, and you guys are it.”

Tim and Beth looked on the verge of relieved tears. Steve laughed. “Fucking awesome! What spell was that? That right there is a game changer!”

Eric smirked, while gently helping even the most exhausted out the massive hole and quickly leading them down a side road where he sensed no blinking reds at all.

“What spell would that be?” Eric asked politely.

Steve turned around, somehow taking in both the massive hole in the thick concrete lobby wall that they had just walked through and the half dozen fiery trees and massive examples of viny shrubbery covered in thorns and flame that were setting both the hotel and half the block ablaze, while keeping all the lurching horrors racing towards them wrapped up in fiery branches and vines.

“Umm… yeah. That.”

Eric winked. “I’m calling that my protection from Cthulian horrors spell. And no, I don’t care if half the block burns so long as our enemies burn with them spell. Now, shall we get going?”

Wordlessly, both humans and goblin nodded and together they focused on racing back to the arena as fast as their feet could take them, Eric making full use of his 433 Perception and Soul Linked blaster to take out over a dozen shambling targets that might have been Lythid horrors or drunken idiots, but either way they were dead and Eric and his companions were not.

Despite the fear he refused to acknowledge, his lips were curled in fierce grin, never feeling so alive as at that moment, realizing that, at least for tonight, he couldn’t count on his interface to head’s up ambushing reds.

He could only count on his blaster and monstrous stats, the perk he had deferred choosing itself as Advanced Arcane Weapons hit Rank 11 without any concerns of him running out of ammo.

Congratulations! You have chosen the perk: Power Transference! Because why should an anyone who has utterly mastered the Blueprints of a Tier-2 Advanced Arcane Weapon ever have to worry about charging any of his arcane toys? A basic skill check means that you can use your own mana to charge both plasma blasters, wands, and any other arcane toy you gain experience with! - Cautious Gunner and Mad Bomber perks detected. Synergisms are now in play! Even with a failed skill check, your weapons won’t explode in your face! Isn’t that wonderful!?

Steve, in particular, was giving him a look. “How? Just… how?”

Eric shrugged. “How what? How is it that multiple male mages I meet seemed to be named Steve?”

The man snorted. “Ha ha. Very funny. And the odds of that are actually higher than you think. Like finding common birthdays in a barroom bet. An alternate reality might not have Steve mages, but might have three Harvey mages all drinking together. But never mind that. How the hell is it that you’ve managed to combine Druid spells and Fire magic? And how did you get your hands on a blaster like that?”

“Like what?”

Beth screamed and lurched back when a pair of tendril-covered goblins covered in blinking crimson eyes raced from a deserted ally they were just crossing… before lurching in their tracks when Eric sighted and fired on pure instinct, and obliterating the center of their chests to massive craters wth flashes so bright that not even ash remained as the perforated corpses collapsed, bloodflow instantly stopping, no matter how many miniature brains were now controlling those dead puppet’s limbs.

“Like that,” Steve said. “Nice shooting, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

One of the heretofore silent party members was gazing at Eric in slack-jawed disbelief. “Jeezus. What the bloody fucking hell is that?”

Eric gazed down at the massive anti-material plasma rifle nestled in his hands. He turned to Glick and winked. “Why don’t you tell them?”

Timothy gave their newest companion a look. “Glick?”

The one-armed former assassin and now Honorable Rogue sighed. “It’s a Tier-II Deathblaze anti-material plasma rifle. Completely illegal in any ascending world, and a favored tool of goblin assassins. I believe our savior declared it a Prize of War, so now it’s his and not even the most rabid lawyer will be able to take it from him.”

Eric winked. “Damn right. And I have a couple of perks that reinforce that claim so no, no slimy asshole lawyer’s ever touching my shit, ever again.”

They continued at their present pace, despite the wheezing protests of a few, not daring to stop or even slow down. The air continued to flash with additional bursts of fire absolutely obliterating their targets, and nothing else, because Eric had stopped with the Hell Vines awhile back, right before they had crossed wide boulevard that could serve as a fire break if absolutely necessary.

Eric’s devil-may-care grin turned to an undisguised look of relief when he saw that the now well-guarded entrance to the arena was just ahead.

“We made it!”

Beth blinked in sudden comprehension, eye crinkling in a grateful smile. “You were fronting the whole time!”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

She chuckled with unmistakable relief when they were waved right through by a smiling pair of guards. “What I mean is that he was playing the cocky confident hero, but he was a lot more worried for our wellbeing than he wanted to let on.”

“Nah, I really am that much of a badass,” Eric assured with a wink. “Now come on. Your host is waiting!”

For just a moment, his new companions froze at the sight of so many thousands of people filling the arena, protected by an outer circle of would-be heroes and adventurers armed with patchwork armaments of rawhide or oversized steel hauberks for the largest and strongest of them, courtesy of the orcs, all of them wearing either blades and bucklers at their hips or with spears in hand. Eric was pleased to note that they were still following orders, clustered protectively around the artillery battery, one of their best assets, even if it was in the form of enthusiastic middle aged hobbyists happily sharing pointers with a second squad of far too young-looking cannoneers who all turned to give Eric chipper salutes.

“Oh goody, you found more survivors!” One of the girls happily cheered.

“That and a fuck-ton of Lythid tentacle horrors eager to infect you with their brain juices!” Steven quipped back, earning a shudder from the girl, her companions’ enthusiasm at their arrival fading to looks of horror.

“Steve, seriously? They’re children!”

Steve snorted. “Former orc gunners, Beth. And I’m doing nothing but warning them about the shit that could be coming our way at any second.”

Eric frowned. “Okay that was a bit assholish, but you actually have a good point.” He turned to address the cannoneers and soldiers. “Look lively! If anyone approaches with extra tentacles or eyeballs or just refuses to stop when you say to halt, before having someone far higher level than you Inspect them... you don’t bother asking questions, you just shoot!”

One of the youths nearby saluted. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll let the armored mercenaries know.”

Eric smirked. “Since they’re the ones with the plasma rifles, yeah. That’s a good call. The rest of you stay far away from the entrance, and any fuckers that might come our way. Come to think of it…” With a simple flexing of his will, a pair of revenants came racing from the pack guarding the inner circle before slowing to a fast march as they moved past him and began lowering the gate altogether. “Let’s just assume the worst, and let no one else in. Not until this is all over.”

Beth gave Eric a pointed look. “Your Grace?”

“Strictly free agent,” he instinctively said as they made their way to the inner circle, whereupon Steve and half the party froze in their tracks.

“Boss, hold up. You don’t want to go any further!” Steve said with an anxious hitch in his voice.

Tim frowned as his wife blanched and paled. “Look at all of those… things!”

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Tim said, squinting as his wife’s shaking hand pointed at the hundreds of bronze-clad soldiers. “Classical-era formations might not be my first choice for a military contingent, but if they have access to mines, armories, or magic that lets them kit up… wow, how many hundreds of adventurers are doing the long spear thing here in Freetown?”

Bethany took a shuddering breath. “Those aren’t adventurers.”

Tim’s eyes filled with concern as they slowed down. “Bethany…”

“They’re undead!” She choked down a sob. “This entire colosseum is filled with the living dead!”

Tim hissed, spinning around to lock gazes with Eric. “Is it true? Your faction’s allowing revenants to be exposed to normal people?”

Eric smirked. “Extremely. Now, if you’re finished ogling the finest sarissophoroi you’ll find anywhere in this era, how about I introduce you to the man who authorized your rescue in the first place?”

Tim and Beth looked momentarily speechless, but Steve was gazing at Eric in a new light.

“Wait… it’s you. You’re him!”

Eric raised a polite eyebrow as Caliban sighed and quickly made his way toward them.

“Him who?”

“Him!”

Caliban gently kneeled before the wounded goblin, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a surprisingly heartfelt smile. “I see you had something of a class evolution, my friend.”

The goblin gave a shy smile. “Perhaps I did at that.”

The elf solemnly nodded. “It suits you.”

Glick slipped his one remaining hand under the armored jacket he wore, then drew out a pair of documents radiating such potency that Eric himself was momentarily taken aback, especially as he himself recalled so well signing one of those documents, though he didn’t recall them glowing with import and potency the way they did now. With a bow, Glick solemnly handed the pair to Caliban.

“Here you are, Lord Caliban. And with this, my assignment is complete.”

Caliban smiled warmly. “It is indeed.” His gaze grew pained. “And now it is I who must apologize to—”

He blinked in surprise when Glick solemnly shook his head. “Say nothing. I’m not blind. I see the state of your financial empire.”

Caliban looked momentarily choked up for words. “Your grace won’t be forgotten, Glick.” He then took in the man’s companions. “And you are all welcome at the Blue Palace, for so long as you desire, just as soon as the Freetown matter is squared away.

Bethany gazed at the man for long moments before glancing at Eric’s Sarissophoroi, then back to him. “My understanding is that Blue Corp is a neutral elf faction. Yes?”

Caliban solemnly nodded.

“And you’re okay with the living dead?”

Caliban’s smile didn’t quite reach is tired eyes. “Am I okay with soldiers controlled by the man who saved myself, my family, and nearly every soul in here from the most excruciating death you can imagine? Yes, my dear. I believe I can safely say that I’ve gotten over whatever issues I might have once have had, for few things are better at knocking free instinctive prejudices than when those prejudices are used to save your life.”

Beth blinked, before lowering her gaze, cheeks flushing. “You’re right. I apologize if I offended with my question.”

Caliban’s hard smile eased into something softer. “It’s quite alright. It’s been a long night for us all. Come, let’s get you and your party comfortable for the duration of your stay.”

Steve frowned. “Stay? Why are we staying here and not heading right to Blue Quarter?”

Glick sighed. “You saw what was swarming us the entire time we fought our way back here. Until those things are completely taken care of, the city is safe for no one.”

“But that means...”

“Yes, Steve. It means that our host and his champion have to retake the city first.”

Bethany frowned at Eric’s backside as he let Caliban lead him away. “He’s counting on a single adventurer younger than any of us to save the entire city?”

“Bethany, you don’t know who he is!” Steve breathlessly said.

“Sure I do. He’s the badass sniper who managed to get us back here in one piece. But still, he’s just one boy.”

“Who also managed to get ahold of a tactical spell that didn’t seem to drain him at all, casting it half a dozen times,” Timothy noted. “That’s pretty impressive, right Steve?”

“Yes! And you heard his name. He said it without a care in the world!”

“Sure. He said his name was Eric…”

“Silver! And the massive army of revenants you’re somehow no longer worried about because the elf’s okay with it… they’re not just neutral sentinels. They don’t belong to Blue Faction as a whole. They all serve him, personally!”

Bethany blinked. Then she paled. “Wait. All these revenants are his?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said!”

She shook her head, giving her husband a strained smile. “Love, do you still have that bottle of wine? I could really use a…” Her words cut off when a one-armed Glick somehow managed to pour drinks for all of them.

She flashed a strained smile that somehow took in the hobbyists and teenagers enthusiastically poking at their cannons, the handful of power armored mercenaries moving toward the gates, the absolute flood of people quietly organizing themselves into both soup lines and, of all things, employment lines… and the hundreds of undead spearmen watching over them all, supposedly controlled by a boy wearing tight-fitting blue jeans and pretty much nothing else.

Finally, her eyes took in the goblin bank teller who had turned into their staunchest ally and friend.

“To friendships and unexpected fortune. Here’s to hoping that we all make it through this endless night.”

They all drank to that.