Chapter 28: Dusty and Slab. (Patreon)

Chapter 28: Dusty and Slab.

A deluge of teeth and tongues shot towards us. Towards both of me.

“YoU! wIlL! nOt! DO! tHiSS! TO! ME!” It roared from a dozen different salivating gashes. 

Sarcophagus Solomon exercised the slightest vestige of willpower. In doing so, he sealed the transforming abomination. Suppressing the entirety of its Psy and pushing further, deeper, from all sides. Applying pressure in these immaterial halls until all he was left with was a resonant marble. A bead containing the essence of the bargain.

“Do not concern yourself with that. I, we, did our part. Future or past, it makes no difference. It got what it wanted and is simply frustrated it cannot extract more. Not while you’re in the Tutorial. By the time we get out, we’ll have absorbed his lessons without needing to fear his interference. If you do your part.”

“What is it?” I stammered.

“An Arch-Savant. Someone like us, with an indescribable advantage in a Type. What we did as a Telepath, it managed as a Shifter.”

Floating organs turned to their past form. One version of me staring down another.

“The next two are the most loyal and the most important. I never knew them before Anezka took me, yet their impact was felt as soon as I created my fourth unique ability. [Insight] allowed me to see not just what is and what will be, but what could have been. Their loyalty is guaranteed if they survive. We must follow them into their world to ensure they do.”

“Wait. Follow them? I’ve been seeing people go back! Could we go back too!?”

If the oversized test-tube had a mouth, it would have been snarling.

“We’ll have plenty of time to enjoy our own dimension after saving this next one. Isn’t that what drove me? What you want? To be a hero?”

Illusory limbs bade me glance into the abyss. Waving in exasperation.

“Then here you go. No one needs a hero more than these two. You’ll be loved and pampered and revered beyond your wildest dreams. All while saving your own skin.”

It brought the remnants of the Shifter closer.

“Here it is. The key to a second Type as well as the insurance against Anezka. Yours for the taking after I’m gone. All you have to do is follow these two knuckleheads around after the first cycle.”

Tendrils dragged me down before I could ask any of the thousand questions yearning to be free.

This time, my body was bigger. Tougher.

Like an anvil molded into the rough equivalence of a person.

My axe meets little resistance as it digs into the scorpion.

The bones that make up the blade come from far scarier beasts and my newfound strength carries it forward with unerring precision.

“So easy.” I say, swelling up with pride at the kill.

“That’s right.” My brother agrees. “I always wondered how it felt for the hunters and the warriors. To shatter bedrock and bring down prey twice or thrice their size. Ha! Reality has not disappointed. I feel so full of vigour.”

He brings up his club and inspects his own prize.

His knife does away with the venom glands, just as he’s done since childhood. The rest of the meat is wrapped up in our packs and prepared for the clan. They’ll take over the processing from there, while we make the most of our talents.

“My only regret is that we did not locate the Holy One. It would have made that day a legendary occasion for all of us.”

“Don’t even get me started.” I snap back, feeling my frustrations returning. “I was the one that kept telling you to turn around and decimate the centipedes. They were pathetic compared to the beasts our clan hunts on a daily basis. Even normal children would have been able to do it. The Holy One was obviously nearby, given how clear their voice sounded. We could have joined forces! We could have re-invigorated our people once more with the fourth discipline! Imagine it! Children from our blood leading us to greatness once again! Fighting off the surface horrors beside the other great families in the continent! Think of the glory!”

“I’m perfectly aware that the joining our kin to his would have been a great boon. The fourth discipline has always been the most effective at slaying the calamities. We might even be able to re-claim the surface, if there were more Shepherds. However, you forget his words. He asked us to leave. To flee from the battle.”

“Madness. That wasn’t a battle. Our lives were never at risk. We’ve both handled worse without abilities of our own. We were surrounded by food. Sweet meat just waiting to be grabbed. Do you remember that first taste? It was heaven compared to scorpion meat. If only the rest of our family was able to try them.”

A sigh escaped my lips then, fogging up the air surrounding me.

I could imagine it now, bringing those centipedes to all my friends, watching as they ate the soft, delicious innards. Reveling in their awe when we came back with a Telepath. A savior for everyone. Feeling their gratitude as they realized how much value our family brought to whole clan.

Better yet, all those happy feelings would be magnified by the look on Glossy’s face.

She hadn’t been the only bully I had to deal with growing up, but she had been the cruelest. Always making snide comments about how easy me and Slab had it. How we coasted off father’s reputation and status. Reminding everyone that, no matter what we did, we’d always be disappointments. All because we weren’t awakened. Because we couldn’t protect our people like he could.

My fists clenched as I kept going over the lifetime of insults in my head. Resentment sticking to me like glue.

All that scorn I’d gotten for failing to live up to everyone’s expectations.

‘Oh, there goes the princess, cutting meat with the children.’

‘Man, to think Spike is saddled with the two of them.’

‘What a waste of potential, a prime fighter having mundane children.’

‘Maybe they’re not even his? Would explain why all his other children got their powers.’

I willed myself to stop then. Deep breaths brought me peace.

None of that mattered anymore.

They would see the new me and they would see the truth. That me and my brother weren’t wastrels living easy lives on the backs of our kin.

No. We would break out of our old lives and earn a place at the top.

“Perhaps there was no danger, as you say. It may very well have been the case. However, you forget the Shepherd’s insight. They can see into all futures. It is one of their greatest weapons and one of the reasons they are valued so highly. The Holy One might very well have been warning us about our impeding doom.”

I grow quiet then, acknowledging his point. Maybe there really was something unfathomable at the bottom of the tunnels. All things were possible, after all. Only fools said otherwise.

“Still, we should have gone back earlier. The Shepherd was nowhere to be found when we finally started looking.”

“They will be fine. None of the foes were particularly dangerous. Only the very weak or very stupid would have fallen.”

“I know. But still. That was such an amazing opportunity. I can’t help but feel useless now that we’ve squandered it.”

“You know better than to think that. Our providence has barely begun to show. We have a chance no one else was given. The opportunity to grow. We might not be much in the way of warriors yet, but we will mature into those roles. Look at your screen and you’ll know I’m right.”

I did as he asked.

Name:

Dusty McMullan

Psy:

203/300

Type:

Enhancer Level 50

Abilities:

[Enhanced Strength] 3 / [Enhanced Dexterity] 3 / [Enhanced Constitution] 4/ [Enhanced Toughness] 5 / [Enhanced Reflexes] 2 / [Enhanced Concentration] 3 / [Enhanced Recovery] 2 / [Enhanced Stamina] 2 / [Enhanced Agility] 2 / [Enhanced Vision] 2 / [Heat Resistance] 4 / [Enhance Object] 2 / [Electric Resistance] 2 / [Neurotoxin Resistance] 2 / [Slashing Resistance] 2 / [Piercing Resistance] 3 / [Blunt Resistance] 3 / [Enhanced Flexibility] 2 / [Enhanced Hearing] 2 / [Enhanced Smelling] 2 / [Enhanced Balance] 2 / [Enhanced Training] 4 / [Sudden Strength] 2 / [Sudden Dexterity] 2 / [Sudden Constitution] 2 / [Sudden Agility] 2 / [Sudden Toughness] 2 / [Enhanced Respiration] 2 / [Enhanced Digestion] 4 / [Enhanced Circulation] 3

Ability Points:

0

“Look closely, sister. Look at how we walk the path. We can already dispatch the most ferocious creatures in our near vicinity. Clearing the way for the gatherers to harvest mushrooms in peace. What do you think we’ll be able to do in another two months? How far do you think we will grow?”

“Until the surface is ours.” I say without hesitation.

“Until the surface is ours.” He answers, red hair glimmering under the torchlight. 

“And until I kick in Glossy’s teeth.”

“Hah! She does have it coming, doesn’t she? Acting like she’s the best person ever when she’s on the lowest rungs of power. That said, be sure not to hit her too hard. The way you are now, her head might explode.”

“You’re doing a very poor job of dissuading me.” I reply, lips curled upwards.

Our steps fall softly on the stone bridges and passages that make up our frontiers.

These caves are our home, a mixture of natural formations and old bunkers constructed before the calamities walked the earth.

They’ve been expanded over and over, entire sections cut out to grow algae and mushrooms or herd giant salamanders.

Some areas are even part of the old underwater Metro systems that carried people across the channel. Passengers going from our island to London, Paris, Granada, and Berlin.

I think about such things as I make my way closer to the old halls of North Gate Station. Each step taking me past long-abandoned fortifications and their powerless floodlights.

Once, this place would have been staffed by soldiers and mechanics alike. The barbed wire fences would have received regular maintenance, the darkness would have been driven back by powerful generators and each doorway would have been protected by automatic minigun turrets.

That was all gone now.

This place had been too open.

Too exposed to the world above. 

I’d heard the stories so often that I could recite them by memory.

Mutants had first broken the defenses above ground, swarming the lower levels by way of their young. Their smaller bodies burst in using elevator hatches and ventilation shafts. Flooding the living quarters, the greenhouses and the medical wings in tide of unrelenting hunger.

The barracks had additional protective measures put in place, and so were able to hold out for longer. Making good use of the flamethrowers and napalm turrets.

But the damage was done.

No one else felt safe knowing what happened. So, the way to the surface was blocked off using explosives and new, more regulated air vents were constructed, with self-sealing emergency measures.

Me and my brother take it all in.

The decrepit bunkbeds where families once slept.

The mess halls where the entire community came together.

The laboratories where new foodstuffs were engineered.

All of it had been invaluable to the people living here. It had been home. A place to return to after a long day scavenging. Now the fluorescent lights were dead, and only a torch kept the shadows at bay.

We keep walking until we exit the rear barricade, moving towards a guard station further south that held a set of stairs to the deep strata.

It was one of the only safe ways to get from here, to the clan’s lands. For now, at least. The door’s hinges shriek in protest as we turn it and I make a mental note to bring some oil on my next hunt.

We close it shut behind us and begin our descent. Markings adorn the walls, etched histories of a time when humans could roam throughout the lands bathed in sunlight without care or worry. A time before the bombs fell and mutating gases spread.

Bioweapons.

That’s what they had been called.

Little invisible lifeforms that the great nations of old had wielded as swords.

What idiocy. Mere mortals deciding the ultimate fate of humanity over something as petty as money or border disputes.

Something was bound to go wrong from the outset. Too bad none of them had the sense to stop it when they could.

They had doomed the world in their hubris, forcing us to live beneath the bowels of the earth, lest we be consumed by our own creations.

The Great Devourers.

Horrors beyond imagination that had quite literally eaten their way through all the great nations. Toppling empires that had stood for centuries, or even millennia. Grinding them down over years until only ashes and dust remained of all the things they cherished.

These were animals that should not exist, that should never have existed, yet maintained themselves through mastery of the first and second disciplines. Empowering their bodies to survive the colossal weight of their own bones, while recovering from any damage faster than it could be inflicted.

Even the much-lauded nuclear weapons had only slowed them down in the end. Rendering whole continents uninhabitable both above and below.

We were actually quite lucky, living beneath Ireland. The Blood Queen and all her ilk may be an ever-present danger, but they did not spread radiation wherever they went.

Travelers coming from the great Paris Metro sometimes brought back word of other, more dreadful things.

The Luminescent Parade usually stayed put in the Alps, but every so often, stragglers would split off and harass the ruined valleys below.

Such beings left entire settlements destroyed simply by moving along the hills.

Their fallout was said to be cataclysmic, even by modern standards.

The few living witnesses that wandered back were famous for passing slowly, skin flaking off over the course of days and weeks. It was one of the worst ways to go.

I shake my head to dispel the gloom. Determined to reach the village with the good news.

We reach the bottom without issue and go through the door.

This one has received far more care from our foragers, and barely makes a sound as it swings open and shut.

From there, we make our way southwest.

We prepare to cross the underground lakes to get back home, walking along one of the shallower portions.

I used to love going this way as a kid.

The air here always felt fresher.

More alive than in any other place.

Colonies of red kelp saw to that, designed by our scientists to survive without sunlight.

Our feet are almost at the edge of the water, when something brings me to a halt.

A hand stops me in my tracks, Slab standing completely still a few steps ahead.

I crouch at once, readying my axe and preparing a throwing knife with my off-hand.

Green eyes stare back at me, confirming my readiness.

He puts out the torch and brings his club into his hands, all while minimizing the sounds that might give away our position.

We wait in the darkness for a few heartbeats, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

I resist the urge to lunge while swinging my axe.

If Slab thought it was dangerous enough to survive me, it could very well be a new kind of predator.

Something from the border caverns that wandered over in search of easier prey.

If only it knew.

That’s when I start to hear it.

A barely audible buzzing of insect wings. Distinctive to anyone skilled or lucky enough to survive past childhood.

I strangle my surprised gasp before it has a chance to kill us.

We both crouch lower, sliding our bodies against the nearby wall and slowing our breathing as much as possible.

Weapons held in sweaty hands.

The monster is just as blind as us, but its hearing is several magnitudes better.

It will notice us if we make the slightest sound.

It might very well kill us too. Blade-like extremities disabling our limbs while its proboscis exsanguinates us. 

All throughout my youth, this has been my greatest nightmare. Ever since I saw Uncle’s body. The empty shell the hunters managed to bring back. A dried husk, devoid of any fluids, mummified while still alive. While he was aware of everything. Slowly feeling all of him being drained as he stared into unfeeling compound eyes and his own reflection therein.

The hand holding the axe begins to shake as potential fights play out within my imagination. Not only are the Queen’s children blindingly fast and freakishly strong, they too can regenerate, though to a lesser extent. Our only hope of winning would be to land a killing blow before it becomes alerted to our presence.

Before it begins to lash out in hunger.

‘I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I hate myself. My own weakness. My own decisions. We should have stayed near the Shepherd. We should have brought him back with us. No matter the cost. He could have punctured its mind with little effort. He would have sensed it before it ever got this close.’

It takes all my willpower to stop the gnashing of my teeth.

The situation is almost hopeless.

Almost.

If we can just get a clean hit in.

Find some way to perform a successful ambush, stun it for just a fraction of a second.

Yes, just for a second.

I begin to move my throwing knife, bringing it into position in anticipation of the opening.

Slab gently places his hand on my arm.

While I can’t see his eyes, I can imagine what they look like. All a volatile mixture of desperation and hopelessness, mirroring my own.

We can’t even perform sign language due to how impenetrable the shadows are. All he can do is trust me to make the right choice.

He thinks that involves waiting. I disagree.

Hesitation means death.

No matter the context.

His hand squeezes my arm now, applying just a tiny bit of the superhuman pressure he’s capable of.

‘Damn, now I can’t move my hand to throw. Come one you stupid musclehead! Read the situation! We’re both going to die if we just allow this thing to keep exploring! This is the only way! The only chance we have!’

To my utter disappointment, he fails to read my mind.

The reaper’s blade draws nearer.

I feel it against my throat, pressure slowly mounting.

The monstrosity gets closer, closer, closer…

Then, amidst the quiet, a single sound is heard.

Splash.

I recognize it at once.

It’s a cavern icefish, a mutated species, evolved to survive in underground rivers by deploying a unique self-defence mechanism.

When in danger, it calls upon the third discipline to freeze the air around it, as well as any predator that gets too close.

Sadly, for this individual, that strategy only works if it can react quickly enough.

A brutal needle-like mouth pierces its head with one sharp motion. It was so fast that displaced air almost blows me off my position.

Almost.

Slab releases my hand and my dagger flies, Psy making my body scream as every last bit of effort goes toward that one shot. 

That one incredible shot.

The giant mosquito loses one of its wings as well as its balance. Both me and Slab are on it within the span of a single blink.

Sounds of violence echo all along the walls, axe cutting joints and club shattering its skull. We put everything we have left into those strikes. Swinging with unimaginable ferocity. As if our very lives depended on it.

Because, well.

They did.

Not only our lives, but those of our families.

Everyone we loved.

A single one of these things would butcher a hundred regular people with the greatest of ease.

Furthermore, it could not be allowed to escape now that it had wandered so close to the clan. If it did, friends might tag along next time.

Whole towns had been wiped out under similar circumstances.

I swing my axe with wild abandon, forcing more and more of myself into the assault.

One of the legs attempts to pierce my torso, launching itself like a spear thrust while the others held on to the stones for support.

My upgraded concentration and reflexes just barely make it, sending me backwards and to the left, near the monster’s mouth. I can’t actually see what’s in front of me due to the absence of light.

Regardless, I know its there. The tube. My worst recurring nightmare since I was a little girl that didn’t know anything.

I bring my axe down, hate fueling me as much as Psy is.

The blade pierces one of the eyes, and I can feel its leg swish and swoosh with renewed desperation.

I repeat my swing, drilling my weapon even deeper, hoping that it finally ends.

To my immense relief, it does.

Both me and Slab draw away from it after getting a few more hits in and separating the head from the body as insurance.

You could never be too careful with these things.

I feel sick to my stomach, more stressed that I’ve been in months.

The Labyrinth had been almost pleasant with how easy it had been.

So much so that I had begun to feel invincible.

Forgetting one of the core tenets of our clan.

“Pride is a slow and insidious killer.” Slab said, finishing my own thoughts.

“Are you sure you’re not a Shepherd?”

“Plenty sure sister. If I were, I’d have fifty wives right about now.”

“Not with that face.” I shoot back.

We both start laughing, hearts still roaring under the spectre of death.

“That was way too close.”

“I know.”

“We almost died.”

“I know.”

“We have to get stronger.”

“Slab, are you really going to keep saying obvious things all the way back to the tent? You sound like father.”

“Depends on how much it annoys you.” He answered, earning himself a kick for his witticism.

We move far more carefully after that. Nerves frayed for hours until we make it back to the gates.

Stake sees us coming from a distance, his discipline lighting the way with dancing lights that drove back the darkness.

“Holy scorpion tails! They’re alive! Hey everyone! Dusty and Slab are alive!”

News spread like gasoline fire, people calling back deeper and deeper into the re-enforced station we all call home.

Cloth flaps give way as hunters begin to exit, coming to look us over and provide healing.

They start asking questions before we even make it to the square.

Those queries die as they spot our kills. Two scorpions for the kids to dismantle and one of the Blood Queen’s own soldiers.

We take some time to explain everything. How we were taken in our sleep months ago and how we found ourselves in another cave.

How we found out about the screens, about the disciplines we were given.

About how the Shepherd spoke to us.

“Unfilial children, the both of you. Bringing back that man should have been your top priority.” Said father, with his usual penchant for stating the obvious.

“Are we even sure it was a man? The kids didn’t lay eyes on them.”

“The voice sounded masculine.” Slab interjected. “Though we don’t know for sure.”

“It doesn’t matter what they are. What matters is what they could do. That person should have been brought back no matter the cost. Losing a few warriors or hunters would be perfectly acceptable if it got us a Shepherd.”

“On that we agree.” Said Glossy, the nasty gossip. “Especially if one of those hunters is Dusty. Honestly, this could have been the one useful thing you did in your entire life. No wonder you squandered the opportunity. Seems to be your only talent. Though I guess I can’t fault you too much, any man would have run away after seeing your face.”

“Go suck a stinger.” I answered, in the most polite and mature tone I could muster.

“For the record, we did go back to look, but they had left the area.”

Father burrows his brows, as do his fellow warriors and the elders. They seem hesitant to give up on such life-changing potential.

“Did you find any clues? Any tracks that might suggest where they went?” Asked Snail, leaning on his spear as he scratched his head with clawed fingers.

“A whole bunch of centipedes that appeared to have suffered psionic attacks. Standard signs that they were nearby at one point and actively hunting.” Slab offered. “There were many of these on a wide variety of passages, suggesting that they had Psy to spare and were killing despite not being in immediate danger. We also found other people. Strange people.”

“Strange how?” One of the elders asked.

“They were, small. Like humans used to be before we began to modify ourselves. Averaging around 170 centimetres. A few claimed to be from the surface and they had no knowledge of the Devourers. Some said they came from cities long destroyed. Others claimed that they hailed from worlds infested with walking corpses. One particularly odd fellow began to claim that the Holy Ones were all spawn of evil and that every malady was their fault. This man, Randall, tried to recruit us to his cause. A crusade, as he called it, to rid the world of all Telepaths. They seemed to genuinely believe their own doctrine.” 

Silence fell as a blanket over the whole camp.

No one making a sound for several seconds while they processed this new information.

“This Randall, I take it he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately, no. I took an arm off but we were ambushed by a robot before I could finish him. The thing distracted us for a short time, and they had escaped while our attention was elsewhere. I take full responsibility.”

“As well you should.” Father nodded, his mood souring further. “Anyone opposed to the fourth discipline is opposed to humanity. We simply cannot afford to have some imbecile killing off our only reliable weapons. This Randall must be found and they must be put down.”

“Bah, no matter. Someone that stupid is bound to die sooner or later. I’m far more intrigued about the other worlds mentioned. Would it be possible to move ourselves via the Labyrinth? Could we use it to escape to a version of earth without bioweapons?”

“That, I do not know. But we might find out after we are brought back for the second cycle.”

“Be sure to explore that possibility.” Declared father.

The meeting went on for a bit longer afterwards, questions being thrown around and food passing hands.

Smug satisfaction settled inside my chest as both me and Slab sat in the inner circle of tables. Closer to the center than many of the weaker awakened, who were barely stronger than standards.

Other Espers surrounded us, the best of the best inside our community. The ones that contributed the most. The ones people relied on. The ones that all of us acknowledged and respected. Our role models. Our idols.

We were among them now. No longer the pampered children of a renowned leader. Both of us were valuable to the clan on our own right. Chuckles escape me as I grab my bowl. Freshly dismantled scorpion, with a side of fungus and some sprinkled honey. The best food for the best people.

I looked down at my portions, caressing my axe as I remember the rush of self-improvement.

‘Soon. Soon I’ll be back there. Growing even stronger. Finding our quarry and bringing them back to our world. No matter the cost.’

 The fork approaches my lips slowly, allowing for the aroma to waft. War horns take us all out of our revelry before I can start chewing. Guards posted at the gates are shouting. The normal folk are pushing their way deeper than they had any right to.

“Mosquitoes!”

“They’re here! Hundreds of them!”

“Help! To arms!”

All the warriors stand as one. Too accustomed to emergencies to show any hint of panic or disarray. Me and Slab join them without another word.

We rush to the walls, finding the scouts desiccated. Their killers barely twitch in response to their passing. Their bulging blood sacks swaying lazily with every buzz.

Axes, knives, swords and spears fall in concert. Most don’t hit anything. The fiends tear through us with the greatest of ease. Making our slaughter seem like a casual affair. As if they couldn’t be bothered to put in more than a token effort.

Father is pierced from the front and back. Held in place while two more jam their sucking needles down his eye sockets. Slab joins him soon after, unable to twist out of the way of an oncoming drone.

I try to hit their killers. To no avail. They are too fast and too many.

A lance skewers me through the stomach and my vision blurs.