Chapter 12: Consequences. (Patreon)

Chapter 12: Consequences.

So, good news and bad news.

On the upside, I wasn’t currently dead.

Always a positive.

Furthermore, I hadn’t sustained any physical injuries, which was honestly nothing short of miraculous.

The downside was that I had managed to end up very far away from the spot where I was and even further from the entrance to the maze.

Meaning that I would have to climb all the way back to my starting point if I wanted to have any hope of getting out.

“Heh. Ha. HAHAHAHA!” I laughed, unable to keep myself in check.

“Oh, my goodness. There it is again. The fear, the uncertainty. The lack of control.”

That last point was especially prescient. I was once again in a position where I didn’t have any control over my surroundings. Over my future. I mean, that seahorse-dragon thing had possessed a (Centipede)ing atomic breath! It could have literally vaporized before I had a chance to blink in its general direction! Who thought it was a good idea to leave that thing in the same general location as people?

I laughed harder at my owns stupidity.

“Come on Sully, you know better than to ask that. Psychopaths, that’s who! There’s no other explanation. Me and the others have been trapped here by a very wealthy, superpowered psychopath that’s undoubtedly watching us through hidden cameras on the walls or sensors inside our brains. How else could you explain the screens that show up now and then? Or the censorship? As if this whole thing was a pay-per view show being streamed by the most homicidal freaks on the planet. What, did you think there was an kind old granny installing mother(Centepide)ing anti-gravity fields in volcanic caves? Wake up man. Prepare for the worst. You could have died!”

I take a moment to heave, keeping my hands on my wobbling legs in order to avoid falling on my face.

I’m tired.

I am so tired of it all.

Hungry too.

So hungry.

My stomach growled in confirmation and I grimaced as the aching shook me further.

I clench my fists and take a deep, calming breath. Followed by another and another. Drawing air in, holding it as long as possible and allowing it to escape in slow hiss.

“Its okay. I’m okay. I’m alive. I can still keep going. I can still make it out.”

The words ring hollow amidst the wet floor and the vertical drop I just traversed.

Nevertheless, I take note of my surroundings and see that there are five passages connected to the bottom of the crevice.

Two of them are immediately discarded due to how small they are. I’d have to get on my hands and knees to fit, which meant I’d be trapped in a very narrow space that could be assailed at any time by monsters.

Images of pumas leaping from pitfalls and snails flooding corridors with fire run through my mind again.

“No, definitely not those. Which leaves the two leading down and the one tunnel leading up. The one with the overgrown pink plants all over the place. Great.”

While I wasn’t a biology student myself, I did have friends who were.

Vince, for one. Him and Doris.

I shook my head to dispel the memories before they surged back up.

“Focus man. Focus. What was it that Vince said? Bright colours in nature are signals to predators. Like a big neon sign stating ‘Stay away or I’ll (Centipede) you up!’ Which usually translates either poison or venom.”

Now that I thought about it, some of those fronds resembled the ones that had cut me on my first few hours here. I recalled the side effects again, as well as the speed at which they spread. If it hadn’t been for the bunny man…

“Okay, that’s not going to work. If only I had something to swat them out of my path without touching them.”

Then, like the imbecile that I was, I saw a stick and remembered that I had hands.

I chuckled, deflating somewhat as the tension left me and grabbed my new tool from the pond.

I took another steadying breath as my fingers curled around the shaft, before walking over and starting the climb once more.

At first, everything went according to plan. The stick did its job and pushed the vines and fronds away without issue and no monsters came out of the woodwork to harass me.

I was activating [Precognition] in steady intervals. Trying to determine the location of nearby traps since my fog wasn’t picking anything up.

To my relief, none of the phantom versions of me superimposed on reality ran into any unforeseen troubles.

I mean, yeah, I did see them getting stung and even ripped apart by some of the tentacled plants, but that was a danger I was already aware of. Those mutated flowers wouldn’t be catching me any time soon.

That relief turned to frustration some hours later. I was almost sure I’d walked at least a couple of kilometres, yet I remained surrounded by pink carnivorous petals. It would seem that, out of all the corridors in all the floors I’d gone through, this was the only one that didn’t have a few branching tunnels to chose from.

I was stuck going uphill. Without a source of water or food nearby.

I was also still on edge after noticing that some of the plants were different from the rest. There were certain specimens that looked less like a regular flower or tree and more like a wooden drum with a face carved on one side. Those faces were filled with razor sharp teeth and those eyes were not just there for their artistic value. Luminescent insects crawled in and out of them, buzzing loudly whenever I approached.

The noises made the drum-plants grow limbs on their underside. Short, stubby things that wouldn’t be taking them to any races. Yet they did allow for some motion and the plants followed the insect’s buzzing towards my location until I hit a bunch of them with [Fever].

The bugs scattered in all directions before dying mid-flight, as if they’d been hit with a toxic spray by a fumigator. Seeing their chance, the pink-petaled locals moved their fronds to intercept, wrapping them up before dragging them towards their center.

The drum-plants thereby proved two of my suspicions. They could move, although they were limited in their ability to do so; and they could flush me out, though it would take them some time or luck to stumble into me.

Worse, exhaustion was beginning to take its toll now that the adrenaline from my fall had been flushed out of my system. I felt heavy, as if my legs were made of wood.

My eyes begun to close, even as I forced my feet to stay in motion.

“Come on man. Don’t give up now. I’m sure there’s a safe area around the next corner. I’m sure its nearby. Just keep moving. The plants do move so you have to keep going. There will be a watering hole next time. Next time. I’m sure of it.”

Next time didn’t come for another four hours.

When it did arrive, I was half a corpse. Running on the last vestiges of what others would call fumes. I had left the pseudo-jungle behind and arrived on a large circular chamber with vents littering the ceiling and at least half a dozen other entrances to choose from. Several of which continued upwards.

There were some large boulders in the middle, but I didn’t think too much of them since my fog still wasn’t picking up anything.

Instead, I locked my gaze onto the metal bars separating the watering hole from the rest of the dungeon. I was so relieved that my knees almost gave out and I smiled widely. Grinning like an idiot.

I rushed towards the gate, about to open it, when another feature of the environment took my breath away.

“Is that… is that a (Centipede)ing apple tree?”

I let go of the gate, too stunned to say anything else.

Sure enough. There was a big, freaking apple tree down here. Standing behind the boulders that had blocked my vision earlier. Its leaves were green and the apples hanging from the branches were red.

It looked like any old apple tree you’d find back home in Canada. Down to the smallest details.

My stomach rumbled again and I almost wept.

I ran towards it. Whooping and hollering with newfound vigor.

That celebration took a very drastic turn when the apple tree literally ripped its (Centipede)ing roots off the ground and swiped at me with one of its branches.

The impact sent me flying. Hard enough that, for a moment, I feared it might have shattered some bones. Thankfully, I managed to get away with only a few bruises, though I did struggle in my attempts to get back up.

I coughed, looking at it in much the same way as a coyote who’d just found out the sheep he was hunting was actually a very ticked off sheepdog.

The (Centipede)ing tree then took a boxing stance. As in, a stance professional boxers used to beat the stuffing out of each other.

Then it charged at me.

Because of course it would.

I wasted no time in activating [Hide]. Throwing open the watering hole door and flinging myself into the safety of the enclosed room. I scrambled to shut the door behind me, but failed, the tree’s assault ripping the metal bars off their hinges with the casual ease of a child toppling a sandcastle.

I turned the other way, placing myself at the furthest corner of the room in the hope that my new tormentor wasn’t able to reach me.

Miraculously, it worked.

The thing spread its branches through the opening where the door had been but couldn’t reach me no matter how much it strained.

So, I waited. Sitting down and catching my breath. Trying really hard not to crack under the immense pressure and the realization that I’d almost died to a (Centipede)ing tree.

On the upside, it left after only an hour or so and was even kind enough to ignore the apples that had fallen off it during its attempted murder. I picked some up during my escape, fleeing as fast as I could through the narrowest tunnel I could find.

On the downside, that was all the food I’d enjoyed that day.

Or the day after for that matter.

Yeah.

Not the best time to be rummaging through an unknown floor.

Especially since I was climbing up to the point where I’d previously been instead of making progress towards my escape.

At this pace, I might reach my previous spot in a couple more days. So, a little over a week? How long had I been here? Five days? Six? Somehow it all blurred together. One long inescapable nightmare.

To make matters worse, the messages seemed to echo my feelings. Punched or gouged out holes stating things like:

“No escape.”

“Repent your sins.”

“Fight the Andromedin Wasp Empire! Kill the Telepaths!”

Lovely sentiments all around.

‘Don’t think about that Solomon. Positive thoughts now. Positive thoughts. It can get better. It will get better. Keep an eye out for more living trees or mushrooms or whatever.’

So, I kept moving. Practising on anything that came too close.

Regardless, it took most of the day to figure out what I was doing wrong in regards to [Fever]. Ironically enough, the idea came to me whilst setting up another ambush site after gaining a level.

The sandy layer of floor had given way to polished marble in the new section and floating balls of light served to illuminate the way forward, rather than the usual mushrooms. The walls were also straighter, forming perfect 90-degree angles as they touched the adjacent surfaces.

It made forming trails for prey a little difficult, as I would need to make every layer fit with the others to mimic the perfectly even surfaces nearby. It was like filling out a puzzle in empty air, where a single slip of my hands might give the whole picture away.

My illusions had gotten two of the giant moles into a single room. One where centipedes, eels, beetles, golden snails, shadow-trout, bone flowers, silver pumas and two of those famous robot bulls were slaughtering each other. Most of them had been sent by me, but the bulls had just kind of, shown up some time after the fight started.

The first thing I noticed was that the bulls didn’t register at all in my fog. Which made sense, them being machines and all.

The second thing I noticed was that my illusions didn’t affect the bulls either. Which made no sense at all, given that they were stimuli hanging in space.

Robot or no, they shouldn’t have been able to see through the visual screens I’d put in place to herd the masses.

That’s when I started asking questions.

What were the illusions anyway? If they were light-constructs, that would mean Telepaths could control light to some degree. If that was the case, why had no Telepath used illusions that could be caught on camera?

Then I remembered the villainous Blackjack walking in front of the heroes and slipping right past them.

The public had been outraged as they couldn’t see the falsehoods befuddling the response teams.

All they ever saw was their heroes standing around looking confused. Thunder Fist and Horizon were fine from a physical perspective. Neither had suffered so much as a scratch.

They couldn’t see what they’d been hit by. Because the illusions existed, not in the regular world, but some sort of psychic void. The energy interacted with living beings to reproduce physical stimuli, mimicking sights, sounds and smells. It was the energy that was left behind when I used the ability, not a static amount of still light or chemicals that gave off scents.

As soon as I figured this out, I tried to peer into one of my own works. Rather than being the usual filled air, it now looked as if it were a spark. A candle burning through wick in order to fool the senses.

If that were the case, could the illusions be more, charged up?

Could I empower an illusion?

A quick test showed that I could so by placing more Psy into each forgery, wrapping layers of fuel around the floating tendrils that made up the core. In a way, it was like giving more wick to each candle.

After a successful experiment, I applied the same lessons to [Fever].

This time, it worked like a charm.

System Notice:

Student has made a breakthrough with an ability.

Level Gained: +5 Maximum Psy. +3 Ability Points.

Ability Evolving: [Static Illusion] 3 has grown to [Static Illusion] 4

System Notice:

Student has made a breakthrough with an ability.

Level Gained: +5 Maximum Psy. +3 Ability Points.

Ability Evolving: [Fever] 2 has grown to [Fever] 3

Counting the earlier, legitimate level from killing monsters, this left me with 2 ability points to spend and a much greater understanding of what was going on.

All that slaying served a purpose, but levelling via escalating hunts was impractical.

After all, why risk life and limb when it was much easier and more expedient to train up the individual powers.

It, kind of sucked that the upgrade still ate up free points, but it was still far more efficient than the hiding and sniping routine or even the devious mastermind routine I employed to boost my KD ratio.

With these new lessons in mind, I moved on to another unexplored section of the maze. After taking my prize of course. Bunny man had mentioned that the bovine constructs had nutrient bars inside of them. This notion could very well be a side-effect of his, condition, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Stepping into the silent chamber where the melee broken out was easy. Keeping myself from vomiting was considerably harder.

Viscera and offal coated the floor, creating a vile layer of bodily fluids from a menagerie of monsters. Some of these bore the telltale signs of my bolts whilst others appeared as though they’d been crushed or mangled. In particular, both moles were missing their lobster arms and I soon realized the weapons had been torn off in the scuffle.

Contrary to my expectations, the moles were not nearly as dangerous as a well-coordinated swarm of underlings.

Worse yet had been the robot.

Its chassis was bent and shattered where front legs met torso. Through the hole, I could see the barest glint of exposed wires and chrome. I approached slowly, dancing around the wreckage and making sudden motions in one direction after another. When no self-detonation occurred, I figured it was safe enough to inspect.

The design itself was, serviceable. I guess.

All hydraulics and synthetic muscle mounted on a heavy titanium frame.

It was a few years behind what the guys and I had worked on under professor Maze, but that was to be expected. The only real standout was the power source.

The battery itself was, well, impossible.

Compact in the extreme whilst still being able to breathe life into the very hungry locomotion systems. To say it was valuable would be an understatement. A more apt description would be that my own professor and any of his graduate students would gladly murder me for it. It looked like any other battery one might buy in a store, only without a logo. However, it and it alone had given life to the lumbering drone. A drone that was bigger than a rhino and sported several inches of armor.

There had to be a vast array of innovations locked away in this little package, but they would have to wait for later.

For now, I was content to grab a woefully inadequate meal and count myself lucky.

The bars were stiff and hard. All the same, any food would have a heavenly taste at this point.

After all, I was starving.

Those early symptoms had been there since I missed breakfast. Just about everyone gets cranky when they’ve missed a meal, for good reason. From there it had been a slippery slope of fatigue, dizziness and poor concentration. 

Usually, this would’ve had a negative impact on my training, given that it required so much focus. Paradoxically, the opposite was true.

The hunger sharpened my willpower, growing my connection to the motes inside of me. It also got me thinking about what I had done thus far and how the lessons could be applied elsewhere.

[Fear] had taken a bit of a backseat recently, mainly because of the close-range required.

What if that wasn’t the case anymore? What if it were possible to entrap the mote next to another mote, say [Mental Bolt]? Would that de-stabilize my attack or would it have an additional effect?

It was this morbid curiosity that saw me clearing a nearby watering hole with my first ever combined blast.

At first, the bolt took in more Psy, as it had done before. I made it spin around my orbit, going round and round, faster and faster. The air began to crackle and I held on to the whizzing orb of death while summoning the lesser strands from within me.

They did not get along. If pushed, I would have to compare then to two magnets pushing against each other, only both were made of liquid and hissed like vipers every time they came close. More than once, I felt the grip I had on [Fear] give way while the bolt attempted to break free.

Aches began to sprout from my stomach, but all of me was next to those two concepts, trying to marry them together.

“Remember your mantra. Happy thoughts. Positive thoughts. You’ll make it through this. You always do.”

I failed.

Then I failed again and again.

Cursing myself, I went to sleep after drinking as much water as I dared and doing my business in a distant dead-end.

I dreamed of the sarcophagus.

Of a blood-soaked needle leaving my body. A whisper grew in volume and intensity just behind me, promising the world, the moon and all the stars in the night sky. Worst of all, I dreamt of the abomination in the vault. Of torrential rains of bright-green acid melting his gaolers.

It spoke to me sweetly and promised me enlightenment. All I had to do was surrender my mercy and my humanity. Embracing the crimson crown in all its majesty.

Morning brought peace and more hunger besides.

My brain cried out as I stood and a spell of dizziness sent me to the floor.

Everything was harder now. More confused. The limb’s I’d been born with had become suspicious strangers, refusing all but the simplest commands.

The smell of my own body, which had been so distracting earlier, was a mere afterthought.

Whatever sad bits of cloth remained of my pajamas were thoroughly soiled, to the point where I genuinely couldn’t imagine them ever being clean again.

“How many are left?”

Survivor Count: 781/1000

‘Yeah. That sounds about right.’

One deep breath later, I was ready to move again.

It took two more tries before I was standing properly.

From there, I wandered off into the unexplored areas of my map.

“Right. First priority. Find and take down as many bulls as I can. Another day of this might kill me if I’m not careful. I need to eat something. I need to keep moving. I need to keep saving people.”

As per my own wish, it didn’t take long to find another person, and I soon settled behind an illusory wall, ready to make contact. Again.

‘This time for sure.’ I thought, jinxing the whole ordeal as I did so.

They were located outside my map, but I could roughly guess they were right around the next corner.

I narrowed my focus and allowed the signals to flow.

The loose strings of energy came back to me, carrying the imprint of a male, thinking quickly and erratically. This new consciousness tasted of adrenaline and exhaustion. Feeling more like a thinking corpse parading itself as a man. Someone who had suffered immensely but refused to stay down due to sheer stubbornness and spite.

I could relate on so many levels.

‘Damn you! How dare a filthy savage like you try to kill me! Damn it! Damn you! Damn this whole place! I’ll come back with the rest of my regiment and smoke the rest of you mud people out!’

Huh.

That was, different.

‘On second thought. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to look for friends. Yeah. I thin I’ll just step into this other passage right here and go in the opposite direction…’

My inner monologue was cut abruptly short as my foot slid of a smooth, wet stone. I was falling before I knew it and felt a resonating thud against the side of my head. The world turned blurry.

Time slipped through clumsy fingers as I cried out and tried to bring myself back up. My limbs felt even clumsier than they’d been a second earlier. Pain shot through me. I cursed at no one and everyone, losing track of the flickering presence inside my power.

Then a hand grabbed me by my sleeve and pulled me up. A shove sent me reeling against the wall, another flare of agony following the last one.

The whole world was swimming. I… I thought this had to be a concussion or something. I couldn’t think clearly. Ideas and sensations slipped through my fingers like water. Leaving faster the harder I tried to grasp them.

I gasped and tried to steady myself but something hard hit my chest and pinned me down. Looking down, it looked like the wooden butt of rifle.

“Who are you!? Identify yourself! Are you French!? German!? British!? Where is your uniform!? Where are we!? How far away are the trenches!? How did you slip past the watch!?”

“Holy cow man! Relax!” I yelled through the haze. “I can’t focus. I need a minute. Please.”

He hit me with the rifle again, expelling the air I was so desperately taking into my lungs.

The maze and its walls swam. My vision becoming blurrier and more unfocused. It was so bad I couldn’t even feel my lake nor the strings within. My power, out of reach….

I kept wheezing, trying to hold on to the waking world. Trying to keep myself steady, alive. My powers, as mighty as they were, did little to help. This daze took them away from me.

“Shut up! Tell me where we are! Where are the trenches!?”

The words fell on deaf ears. I still couldn’t…. couldn’t….

He hit me again. The pain steadying me for a fraction of a second.

‘Trenches? Trenches? Where are… Have to say something.’

“I don’t freaking know! I was taken here from my bed! Holy cow man! Please don’t kill me!”

“I said shut up! You…” He stopped himself mid-scream, like a deer caught in the headlights. “You speak Italian. But I don’t recognize your accent. Are you another prisoner?”

‘Italian? Where did you get that? Oh, my goodness. This guy’s off his meds. He’s deluded.’

Still couldn’t focus. Too much haziness. Too much pain.

“Yes! I’m a prisoner!” I bellowed, finally swallowing a lung-full of air.

He paused, and it was only then that I had a chance to take him in.

He was a wreck. Like someone from a survival show who’d been abandoned on the island after filming was done. His clothes might have been colourful once, a long time ago. Now they were rotting on his body, naught but brown-grey rags held together by the thinnest of strings. They reeked of offal, mud and dried human blood. The stench mixed with the man’s natural human aroma into a disgusting concoction that struck me almost as hard as the rifle.

His black hair was stained with blood as well. As was his face and his hands. The eyes peering out from his face were sunken-in and horrible to look upon. They were the eyes of the dammed and the lost. Overflowing with despair and haunted by his past.

Under his rags were stained, yellowed bandages. They stunk of pus and death. A foreboding sign that he wasn’t long for this world. Overall, the man was a walking skeleton, kept alive by some form of magic.

I gagged, despite my best efforts to remain calm and civil. If the man took offense, he didn’t show it.

“Where were you taken from? Where’s the nearest town?”

“I… I have no idea. I was laying in my bed, just waking up.”

“Where?”

“Toronto.”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Where?”

“Toronto. I was in Toronto. The university dorms.”

He blinked a few times in quick succession, mouth hanging open like a fish. My words hadn’t reached him. If they had, he clearly wasn’t processing them very well. 

Without warning, he hit me again. As I reeled, he brought a knife to my throat and met my eyes with his.

I tried to throw a dose of [Fever] to call upon [Fear] or [Mental Bolt].

Neither answered. I was too out of it. Too… too concussed. I needed to focus, but couldn’t. No matter how hard my brain screamed at my body.

‘Dear lord. Please don’t let me die here. Not like this.’ I begged, trying to make sense of who the man could be.

‘I was trying to help people. I wanted to do something good with my new power. I wanted to be a hero.’

“I’ve never heard of that town.” The lunatic replied. He composed himself somewhat, removing the rifle from my chest and leaning on it as if it were a cane. His left eye was twitching constantly and his legs shuddered every time a breeze passed through the stone cavern.

“Have you seen any other soldiers? Any barbarians?”

“No. I haven’t. What barbarians?”

“The short hairy people, with the furs and the axes. I’ve killed two of them when they came at me. They were screaming. They had cooked rabbits on their belts. I don’t know which army sent them to the front, but this must mean they’re desperate. There’s no way any modern force would let animals like them loose on the trenches.”

“Yeah. Sure. You’re right. Of course.”

‘Dude, holy cow. You just said you killed two people. You said it so casually too. Oh, my goodness. What a psycho. I need to get away. I need to run.’

The man didn’t notice my terror and kept ranting about trenches and spies and kidnappers. I had no idea what kind of insane asylum he’d been picked up from, but I knew they desperately needed tighter security. Also, the gun.

‘Where did this loon even get a gun? Is it a prop? Did he nick it from a theatre? Does it even work? Wait, is that? It’s a bayonet. This murderer is holding a bloody bayonet. That’s just great. Exactly what I needed after everything I’ve been through. Wait, what if he came from a dimension where there’s a war going on? If that’s the case, then from his perspective…’

Against all odds, I started feeling my powers again. Gathering Psy into [Fever] and [Fear] at once. Ready unleash a world of hurt on this deranged maniac.

I looked around nervously, trying to think of some way to put some distance between us before I attacked. To get away quickly. Before I got stabbed.

The man was mulling over my words, talking to himself. He might notice me using [Hide], he might not. I couldn’t make an illusion that was big enough to hide my whole body either, not quickly enough to save my life. I needed a distraction. Something that would stall him for long enough. Something like…

Well, like that monstrosity making its way over to us right now.

‘Hello! I want to be your friend!’ It screamed into my mind.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” The man screamed into my ear.

I turned in the direction of the newcomer, barely catching his diminutive crouching form. As it approached, I saw that it was not crouching. It was a living, ruby-coloured sludge dragging itself forward on the cavern floor.

Within its mass were the desiccated husks of a hundred centipedes and eels, staring out in mute horror as their carcasses were paraded for all the labyrinth to see.

In one swift motion, the living soup leapt at him.

The soldier turned his torso with inhuman speed and flew backwards with practiced grace. The bayonet came up at once and he released a battle cry, soon accompanied by a gunshot.

It did less than nothing.

My erstwhile ally cursed, looked down at me and hardened his eyes further.

Truth be told, I didn’t have to be a mind-reader to gleam his intentions. If a tiger rolled up on two people, you didn’t need to outrun the tiger. All you needed to do is outrun the other person.

“Wait!” I shouted, right before an enhanced kick broke my right leg.

Everything was tinted in the shades of my suffering. Screams were erupting from me and tears had gathered in my eyes.

I managed to set off my attacks and at least had the satisfaction of knowing he’d been crippled too. A satisfaction that was doubled when I heard him shriek and collapse some meters away. Yet, he found the strength to keep moving. Even as he wept and called for mercy, for his friends, for his mother.

I didn’t have that supernatural fortitude. Though I did struggle. With everything I had left in me.

‘Oh! My new friend is hurt! Don’t worry! I’ll make it all better soon!’

A heavy weight crept up my broken leg, swallowing it along with the agony. It continued upwards, sliding over me and covering the entirety of my body. As my head was submerged, I heard one last cry of joy.

‘Goodness gracious! You’re this strong!? This early!? You’re the best! You and I are going to be best friends forever!’