Chapter 94

  Barrier Guardian, Part III (Death's Doorstep)

  There are eight Swamp Rats currently chewing on my body like I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet with zero health code oversight. They’re black furred rats not too unlike those I’d occasionally spot while living in NYC, but each one of these rats is the size of a mastiff (so, not too unlike those I’d occasionally spot in NYC).

  One’s latched onto my shoulder. Another’s gnawing somewhere below my armpit. Two are fighting over which one gets the chewy ligaments of my ankles. The rest have made themselves cozy along my chest, hips, and—OH GOD—one’s somewhere… In my southern region.

  “Argh!... GOD DAMMIT!” I scream, grabbing the rat clinging to my chest and ripping it free—along with a sizeable chunk of flesh, including my entire left nipple.

  Pause.

  Then, absolute horror.

  My left nipple dangles from the rat’s teeth like a prize ham. The bastard looks proud of it.

  “What the fuck, dude?!” I shout.

  The warmth of Liv’s healing spells wash over me, carefully weaving themselves around the gaps in the rats. And then I watch in real-time as it all regrows. The chest muscles weave themselves back together, and then a new nipple forms, pink and pulsing with residual pain, like my body is made from some sick magic play-dough forming itself back into my old familiar flesh.

  I almost puke. No matter how much I get used to the regenerative abilities offered by the System, I’m not sure I’ll ever get entirely used to the visuals of it all.

  “Nope,” I mutter.

  I’m exhausted. Sweaty. Covered in blood (rat and my own) and the clinging swamp. This is how all of our fights have gone since starting Walter’s death-march through the night. Me standing there and taking a fucking beating, attracting all of the aggro from whatever mobs we encounter, while Liv does her best to keep me whole.

  Six more Swamp Rats emerge from the muck, scuttling towards me, sniffing the air excitedly.

  “Oh, for fuc—”

  They swarm.

  Darkness floods my vision as I’m overwhelmed. I feel their claws digging into my shins, their teeth chomping at my thighs. I… I can’t take it any longer!

  “ENOUGH!” The word tears its self from my throat as I strike the best front lat spread I can manage under these circumstances.

  [Light].

  Brilliant white light erupts from my body and the rats screech, falling off my body and scurrying away in panic.

  Not so fast, I think.

  I plant my feet, raise my arms, and flex like I’m in a protein shake commercial—curling one bicep and pointing one arm towards the heavens—triggering [Raining Knuckles].

  The air above us ripples and shimmers as no less than fifty tiny pools of silvery light form.

  Before the rats are even aware of what’s happening, hands shower from on high. All spectral, glowing fists, just like Righty and Lefty—but smaller, like normal human sized hands. Each pool of light spits out at least three of the fist-shaped projectiles. They rain down like meteors made of rage, hammering the swamp into a red-tinted blender of rodent pulp. Rats are absolutely pulverized beneath the onslaught.

  Bones crunch as bloody mist fills the air. My screen floods with notifications. It’s like a Vegas slot machine decided to puke tickets all over my eyeballs.

  You have defeated Swamp Rat, Level 19!

  You have defeated Swamp Rat, Level 17!

  You have defeated Swamp Rat, Level 20!

  You have defeated Berserker Swamp Rat, Level 19!

  You have defeated Swamp Rat, Level 21!

  And even more notifications pop into the HUD as the final volley of spectral fists clean up any straggling rats. I don’t bother to count the final number of notifications and confirm we cleared the entire mob. Even if a few stragglers remain—or a couple were able to slip away—they weren’t coming back anytime soon.

  I stagger, chest heaving, my Health bar dancing in real-time as Liv’s healing spells patch me up faster than I can bleed. She’s off to the side, eyes narrowed, threads of yellow-gold light swirling around her fingertips. Jelly Boy is humming on her shoulder, absorbing the residual effects of her magic and creating miniature glass orbs filled with golden liquid. Temporary healing potions using his [Catch] and [Juggle] Skill. The glass orbs float around his squishy body before being pulled into his Inventory. It was early in our training grind that we tested his Skills on Liv’s healing magic to great success. The potions aren’t as good as Liv’s magic, or real potions for that matter. But they’ll definitely come in handy in the coming fight.

  I flop onto a soggy log, sweat-slick and steaming.

  Despite the flood of notifications, I still don’t see the one I’ve been waiting for.

  Still Level 25.

  “Seriously?!” I bark at no one.

  Liv yelps in excitement as she and Jelly Boy skip over to my side.

  “Level 22!” she exclaims. “And I learned a new Spell too! [Repair]! It can dispel debuffs and recover small amounts of Stamina. How cool is that?”

  I run my hand across my face, trying to wipe away my frustration with the gesture. When I look up at Liv, the smile on my face is genuine, though slightly forced. “That’s awesome!”

  Preston and Walter join us, Grush lumbering slightly behind them.

  “Good job, guys!” says Walter.

  “Here, take this,” says Preston. His diving suit body extends a hand forward and a porcelain cup appears.

  I take it and look at the thick, black liquid inside.

  I sniff it. It smells like sludge, old leaves, and… Cinnamon?

  “Same as last time?” I ask.

  “Indeed,” Preston says in his posh British accent. “It’ll keep your mental acuity sharp and stave off the worst effects of battle fatigue.”

  About five hours into our routine, he had handed me a cup of this stuff. I was expecting coffee and nearly choked on the nasty stuff. It tastes like something I’d expect to find in a septic tank.

  “Bottoms up,” I groan, pinching my nose and downing the concoction in one large gulp. “Yup! Just as bad as last time!”

  I hand the empty cup to Grush.

  Just as I do, I feel the effects of the drink take hold. My spine straightens and energy surges through me. Oh yeah, that’s the feeling!

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  I could go ten more hours! Bring on the Swamp Rats! If he could find a way to make this drink taste better, I may need Preston to visit Earth to start a pre-workout brand marketed towards System users.

  I look over at Walter, who is scribbling notes into a ledger that’s floating patiently in front of him. He glances up from the ledger, “Still no level gain?”

  “I’ve been killing monsters for sixteen hours, Walter,” I groan. “I’ve had a rat chew off my nipple. And for what? I’m still Level 25. Only eight hours left and what do I have to show for it?”

  The skeleton accountant scratches his quill on the top of his skull, considering.

  “Well, for starters,” he says calmly. “You don’t have nothing to show for it. Your three Resistances are all Elite now.”

  “Yeah… I guess so…” I mumble, but I know Walter is right. All three of my Resistances reached Tier 4 (Elite) during my sixteen hours of just letting monsters take bites out of me. Walter and Preston had explained that Elite was likely the highest tier I could achieve without fighting much stronger monsters. The next tier is Legendary. We tried to find monsters that could offer new, rarer Resistances. But had no luck on that front.

  “As for your level, you’ve probably hit a Level Plateau,” says Walter.

  “Err… A what?”

  “It happens. The System installs plateaus at certain intervals of power. Think of it as a bottleneck. It prevents rapid unchecked scaling.”

  “So, I’m being punished for progress.”

  “Think of it more like… rewarded with suffering,” Preston offers.

  “Great,” I mutter, downing the rest of my philosopher-coffee. “Just what I always wanted.”

  “It wouldn’t make sense for you to level infinitely if you had access to an endless supply of weak opponents. You’re not actually improving anything. These Plateaus are a feature of the System. Typically, they require a number of separate achievements to overcome,” says Walter. He waves his quill-holding hand through the air and both the quill and ledger disappear in a flash of pixelated light. “First, defeating much stronger enemies. That’s the straightforward part. The second, is typically gaining some level of understanding as to the nature of your power and what you need to take that next step.”

  I groan. “So, more meditation?”

  “Indeed!” says Preston.

  Walter claps a hand on shoulder. “During our Contest, we had Plateaus too. Ours occurred at 30 level intervals. It seems your Realm must be at 25.”

  “This is extremely insightful,” adds Liv with a smile. “I never thought I would learn anything from you, Joe. But look at this!”

  That gets a chuckle out of me. “If nothing, I make for a great example of what not to do. Like bash your head against a problem until it goes away, or you just quit.”

  Jelly Boy buzzes.

  “Jelly’s right,” says Liv. “There’s no quitting here. We can take down that giant horse thing!”

  I sigh. “Right. Speaking of which, that reminds me. If I’m going to be stuck at Level 25 for this fight…”

  I access my System menus and pull up my [Flexible Casting] selection screen I had minimized last night. That makes my decision for me. I make my selection.

  You have selected the [Body Acolyte] feature!

  NEW SPELL: You learned [Pact of the Body Acolyte]!

  If I’m not going to be able to level up to increase my Stamina pool and unlock access to my new summoning spell, then I’m sure as hell going to give myself the ability to temporarily unlock it!

  “Guys, we have just under eight hours left until this new Quest times out…” I say.

  “Correct,” says Preston.

  “Think we can spend some time on one more ritual spell?” I ask. “I’ll need Grush’s assistance for this one.”

  “Grush?” says Walter.

  Everyone turns towards the hulking, green-skinned man.

  Grush gives me a blank-eyed stare before opening his mouth wide and giving a caveman-like, confused yawp.

  Grush and I stand face-to-face. I’ve ran through the mental instructions for the ritual a few times now, and am pretty sure I have it down. We’re both shirtless (not sure why this was an un-written component of the Spell) and are hands are locked in a Predator-style handshake, biceps bulging as we both tightly squeeze our hands together. There’s sweat dripping down my back, and the sigils have appeared in a circle around us, glowing faintly purple. Somewhere in the background, Jelly Boy lets out a slurping pop like he’s chewing bubblegum.

  We both breathe hard as the final threads of magic from the [Pact of the Body Acolyte] dissolve into our skin, sinking deep into our bones.

  When the Spell hits, it hits—and oh damn, it drains me dry. While I expected it to instantly drain my Stamina, I was not prepared for what dropping to zero in the blink of an eye actually felt like. It feels, for lack of a better word, like absolute shit.

  My Stamina bar nosedives so hard I practically hear it scream. And as soon as it crashes to the bottom of the bar at the bottom of my vision, I drop to the ground like a deflated pool toy. Legs: jelly. Arms: useless. Brain: a foggy mess sloshing around in a bowl of mashed potatoes like some kind of thought-gravy.

  Grush? Grush just rolls his massive green shoulders, flexes his neck, and yawns. Yawns!

  “… How… How much… Stamina do you have, man?” I ask between ragged breaths.

  He shrugs and grumbles something I can’t make out.

  “Enough,” says Walter, helpfully.

  I just lay there in the muck. I’ll use [Clean] in a bit to blast all the mud and dry blood off of me. But for now, all I can do is lay there and watch as my Stamina bar slowly recovers. I can’t even use a potion to speed things along—Walter was very clear on that. The last thing we need is me getting poisoned by a potion mid battle with the Guardian. Gotta keep my body’s internal potion timer clean and clear for the main event.

  Ping!

  The pulsing sensation in the front of my brain is paired with a pair of notifications from the System.

  Ritual complete! [Pact of the Body Acolyte]: Successful.

  New Skill: [Body Bulwark]

  [Body Bulwark]

  Description: The user may teleport in front of an attack targeting an ally that is within the user’s line of sight. Following teleportation, the user receives a twenty second boost in their maximum Health and Stamina equal to 50% of their current Health and Stamina Maximum. This Skill has a 30 minute cooldown.

  A Tank-type Skill. Not bad. Not surprising coming from Grush, but definitely something I’d need to think carefully about how to use to bolster my build.

  This is Veronica’s kind of ability, I think. I can just imagine her smirking while she teleports in front of a lightning bolt or a sword slash, flipping the attacker the bird and shouting something like “Not today, bitch!”

  It’s funny… the moment I got the Skill, my brain flashed back to the Bronze Gate, and preparing to take on the Storm Dragon with Veronica, Clyde and Jelly Boy. It feels like forever ago at this point.

  And now…?

  I stare at my shaking hands and smile.

  Now, I’m getting ready to take on something a lot bigger, and a lot more dangerous.

  I take a breath. Deep and slow. Then, I carefully sit up.

  “All right,” I say, voice hoarse. “We don’t have a lot of time left. Let’s talk strategy.”

  Walter turns to me and nods, his jaw clacking. “Let’s,” he says.

  The sun’s gone all sulky, bleeding orange and purple behind the trees. Long shadows creep through the marshland, pooling like oil around the twisted roots and crooked limbs of this haunted hell-forest.

  Ahead of us marches the Barrier Guardian, on its endless patrol. Its skeletal horse—the size of a damn mobile home—leaves cratered hoofprints in the swampy ground.

  The three of us have spread out, just like we’d planned.

  Jelly Boy clings to my side, his translucent surface quivering with excitement. Liv peels off silently, moving like a shadow, finding her position just behind a mound of tangled roots. Close enough to heal. Far enough to avoid the thick of action.

  I give Jelly Boy a nod.

  It’s go time.

  For the past hour, we’ve been setting up this exact portion of the Guardian’s patrol route—lining the Guardian’s patrol path with light bombs, crafted by Jelly Boy’s Skill using my [Light] Spell. These bombs will be our first strike, taking the offensive by surprise. It’d be an added bonus if the Guardian was vulnerable to light. Walter and Preston suspected that it was probable.

  Jelly Boy twitches. He’s ready.

  We wait. I’m full of anticipation. So much so, it’s hard to breathe. Watching and waiting for the Guardian to reach the point where we’ve planted the first light bomb.

  Finally, the Guardian hits the first position. Jelly Boy buzzes, and I know he’s manually triggering the bomb.

  BOOM.

  The first bomb goes off. A spear of searing white light explodes upward, like a divine bug zapper. It slams into the massive skeleton horse beneath the Guardian, hitting dead center.

  “Yes!” I excitedly breathe.

  The beast rears, its front hooves kicking and flailing in a way that makes the trees tremble and my bladder whisper concerns. But it doesn’t fall. It doesn’t even slow.

  The Guardian’s flaming jack-o-lantern head swivels, candlelight eyes narrowing. The horse shifts again, snapping toward us like a whip.

  “Oh shit,” I hiss.

  They don’t fall for the trap line. No wandering into more bombs. No lumbering confusion. Just instant aggression, like the System handed it our location on a silver platter and said, “Here’s some squishy nerds to eviscerate.”

  Luckily, we had accounted for this in our planning.

  “Jelly! It’s time!”

  I trigger my [Body Acolyte] trait, gaining access to temporary pools of additional Health and Stamina. In the bottom corner of my HUD, both bars extend outward with a slightly paler segment of each—red and green.

  My fingers clench around my staff. I tap into the [Lesser Summoning: Interplanar Ally] Spell and pull, hard. The pose is a double biceps and abdominal pose—both hands placed behind me head, abs squeezed tight. My Stamina is practically wiped as I feel the spell take hold.

  [Summoning: Successful]!

  I don’t know what exactly I’m summoning. All I know is that I’m reaching through the veil, fingers clawing through threads of fate and memory.

  The air warps in front of us, shimmering like a mirage before a door of light forms, pure and radiant, humming like an old television. A silhouette forms in the doorway of light. The figure is roughly humanoid, but featureless. The figure’s details begin to take shape as the door closes behind it…

  Out walks…

  “Howdy howdy!”

  No… No fucking way…!

  The absolutely average looking, Midwest, white guy steps out smiling, waving with one hand, the other adjusting his Save-Some-Bucks name badge with the other. His smile is crooked, but genuine. His skin is pocked and splotchy. His eyes shine with infinite, annoying optimism.

  “DAVE?!”

  My voice cracks like a teenager’s on karaoke night.

  “WHAT. THE. FUCK! DAVE?!”