Chapter 193 - The Realities of Strength and Weakness (Patreon)

Abby came to a skidding stop, kicking up a spray of sand and gravel as she reached the circle of illumination around the campsite. Carlos emerged from a shadow next to her, twisting around to watch for the zombie horde. All around them, the refugees sprang to attention, briefly brandishing their low-quality weapons until hey recognized their pair of protectors. Geraldine and Alex rushed around the flickering flame of the campfire, their faces troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Geraldine demanded. “What happened?”

“Everyone needs to get ready to move!” barked Abby. “Now!”

“At night?” asked Alex, glancing around at the darkness. “Is that safe?”

“No,” Carlos responded. “Not at all.”

“But –”

“There is a horde of zombies – some kind of bigger, stronger brand – along with a couple of reapers and golems,” Abby said, pointing back the way she and Carlos had come. Even though they’d left the undead far behind, she could practically feel them breathing down her neck. “They’re coming this way. Now, unless you want to end up as the latest addition to their horde, get your shit together. We’re making a run for Jariq, and we’re not stopping until we get there.”

Alex’s face paled. “You…you led them to us!” he screeched. “We were safe, and you –”

He was cut off by Geraldine’s backhanded slap. He was higher leveled than her, and he clearly had better physical stats. However, the purpose of the slap had never been to harm him. Even as Alex cradled his own cheek in stunned silence, Geraldine said, “Pull yourself together. People are watching us. They’re scared enough as it is.”

Alex looked as if he wanted to argue, but Abby cut that off before it could begin, saying, “If we stay, we die. Simple as that.”

Geraldine asked, “Can we make it?”

Abby glanced at Carlos, who gave a slight shrug, saying, “Maybe? If they stayed fresh, probably. But the city is still a day away.”

She shook her head, recognizing the problem. Night had only just fallen, and the refugees were already exhausted from the day’s march. Forcing them to keep going for another day would be pushing them to the brink of collapse. Inevitably, their pace would slow. Zombies, for all their unimpressive speed, never tired. On a long enough timeline, they would always catch up to their intended prey. And these undead moved more quickly than the more normal variety, almost as if the unevolved version of [Alacrity of Undeath] was always active; the innate skill wasn’t as powerful as Talia’s version, but the zombies could still cover quite a bit of ground. Even Abby and Carlos, with all their advantages, were only marginally faster. The refugees, without advanced levels or evolved bodies, would eventually be caught.

When that happened, they would all die.

“Carlos,” Abby said. “I need you to get everyone moving. I’ll head back and distract the horde. Slow them down.”

“I’m better suited for that,” he said.

She shook her head. “Maybe,” was her response. With Carlos’s ability to move through the shadows, he was perfectly suited for hit-and-run tactics. On top of that, he could hide in shadows, becoming practically invisible. Some of that advantage was mitigated by the insane range of Abby’s arrows, but she knew he was the better option. Still, she said, “But I need you here. You’re better suited than I am to protect these people.”

It was true, but only because Carlos, at the most basic of levels, was simply better than her at everything. He had higher stats, better skills, and, though she was loathe to admit it, was the more experienced fighter. In the years since she’d been reborn into the Radiant Isles, she had become a better-than-average adventurer, taking missions for the Champions of Light and earning a decent living. However, Carlos was not only one of the Chosen – and had all the advantages that came with that – but he had also been in the Radiant Isles for longer than her. In that time, he’d undergone training from one of the most fearsome organizations in the world, and in his spare time, had become a sort-of vigilante in Jariq.

It was galling to admit it, but Carlos was just better than her. Same as Zeke. Same as Talia. Even Tucker had been more useful. And she had a burning desire to change that – so much that she’d let it affect her judgement. The worst part was that she knew herself well enough that she could recognize her own bad decision; she simply chose to minimize and ignore it.

Luckily – or perhaps, the opposite – Carlos didn’t seem keen on arguing. So, he said, “Fine. Do what you have to do, then.”

With a nod, Abby watched as the refugees broke camp. They didn’t have much in the way of possessions, so it wasn’t long before they’d doused the fire and set off toward Jariq. Even if they made it, it was going to be a rough trip.

Putting that from her mind, Abby turned in the direction of the oncoming horde. They were still far enough away that, in the darkness, she couldn’t see them. However, there was a part of her that could almost sense them.

Or maybe she was just imagining things.

Whatever the case, she needed to find higher ground. With that, she could rain death and destruction down on the horde, and if she was fortunate, redirect them. Abby wasn’t so naïve that she expected as much, though, so she would have to be content with thinning the ranks. If she could weaken the force, there was a chance that, when they reached the refugees, she and Carlos could defeat the undead.

It was a thin hope, but one she had little choice but to embrace.

So, summoning her bow, Abby scanned the landscape for a likely perch. The desert on this side of the Red Wastes was very different from the ubiquitous sandy dunes of the northern desert. Instead, it was comprised of hard-packed and cracked dirt, scrubby bushes, and mounds of boulders. Further south, the plains gave way to canyons and hills before terminating in another mountain range.

Her eyes alighted onto a clump of boulders that would serve her purposes, and she set off toward it, covering the ground in a burst of speed. Not long after, she’d climbed to the top, giving her a good view of the surroundings.

Before her racial evolution, the darkness would have been an oppressive barrier to her sight. However, with that evolution had come enhanced senses; her night vision wasn’t as good as Zeke’s, but she could still see passably well, especially with the stars and moon shining overhead. Thirty minutes later, she caught sight of the horde.

They moved like a shadow across the desert. From so far away, the only shapes Abby could make out were the hulking figures of the lumbering corpse golems. She took aim, then let loose, guiding the arrow with [Gust of Wind]. Despite the distance – and the horde was well over a mile away – the conjured arrow flew with only a shallow arc, covering the distance in the span of a couple of seconds. It slammed into a corpse golem’s fleshy midsection, followed only a second later by another impact from a second arrow. Over and over, Abby fired one arrow after another. Gritting her teeth, she kept [Thunder Strike] at bay, letting it build charges until she couldn’t hold it back any longer. Finally, she released it, and an enormous bolt of lighting descended from the sky.

A deafening clap of thunder erupted across the desert as the lightning found its mark, carving a deep furrow through the corpse golem’s torso. It didn’t fall, though. Even having been partially bisected, the undead monster plodded forward, its heavy steps echoing the thunder of Abby’s attack.

Disappointed but not dissuaded, Abby launched another flight of arrows at the creature. Each arrow slammed into its already ruined torso, creating ripples of flesh and sprays of blood. Abby held the [Thunder Strike] an abeyance for as long as she could, and through force of will alone, she managed to add another arrow’s charge to the resultant bolt of lightning. It carved its way through the golem, the same as the last, but it still didn’t fall.

As the horde shifted its attention to her, Abby peppered the golem with arrows, releasing lighting strikes on every fifth hit. Her mana dipped. Her concentration frayed. But still, she continued her onslaught. Finally, after more than a hundred arrows and more than a dozen bolts of lightning, the thing stumbled and fell only to be trampled by the other undead.

As she was flooded with experience, Abby gave an exhausted fist pump, hissing, “Yes!”

She had just killed an elite-tier monster all by herself. Certainly, the situation had favored her, but that was just fighting smart, wasn’t it? She had still done something few others – even those at the pinnacle – could accomplish.

But there was only one problem.

The horde had not slowed, and she had taken far longer than she’d intended to take. The original plan had been to strike hard and fast, then move away to another shooting platform. Instead, she’d let herself become too focused on taking down the corpse golem – partially because it was the biggest threat, but mostly because she wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t as worthless as she sometimes felt. In doing so, she’d remained in one place for far too long, and as a result, the undead horde was bearing down on her.

“Crap,” she muttered to herself, stowing her bow away and scrambling down the pile of boulders. It wasn’t a graceful descent, but it was fast. A good thing, too, because the frontrunners among the zombies reached the mound just as she found her footing on the desert floor.

A reaper slid across the cracked ground, its scythe coming at Abby in a horizontal slash. She dove over the glinting blade, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two before rolling to her feet and sprinting away. The reaper screeched behind her, and when she glanced back, it was gliding toward her with impressive speed.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

Her words came out in a panic as she willed herself forward, but the reaper still gained. Suddenly, a line of fire erupted on Abby’s back. Screaming in agony, the force of the reaper’s strike sent her tumbling to the ground. She tried to rise, to continue her flight, but her every muscle locked up, contracting of their own volition. She couldn’t move, save for the tremble of straining muscles.

At that moment, she knew she was going to die. And for what? So she could prove something to herself? So she could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with freakishly powerful people like Zeke or Talia? It all seemed so petty. So pointless. So stupid. And now, she was going to pay the price. Strangely, even as her death bore down on her in the form of a robbed, scythe-wielding undead monster, she only hoped that no one would piece together how badly she had screwed up. She tried to close her eyes, but, like the rest of her body, even her eyelids were unresponsive. So, she lay there, her face in the dirt, and waited for a killing blow.

It never came.

Instead, Abby caught a pale blur out of the corner of her eye, followed by a ripping, tearing sound coming from behind her. She willed her body to move, a low, guttural growl of effort escaping from between her slightly parted lips. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, tracking a path through the dirt on her cheeks to pool beneath her. And all the while, she strained to push past whatever skill the reaper had used to paralyze her.

Slowly, whether it was due to her efforts or, more likely, because the skill had a limited duration, Abby regained control of her body. She drug herself forward, turning as she did; what she saw was both joyful and disappointing in equal measure.

Talia had come to save her.

On one extreme, she was grateful for the help and overjoyed by her continued existence. On the other, she hated that she needed to be saved in the first place. It was her own fault, though. First, she’d chosen to sideline Carlos with guard duty when he was clearly the better choice. Second, she’d gotten tunnel vision in her attacks against the golem. She’d killed it, but it had very nearly cost her life.

No - she hadn’t needed saving only because she was too weak. It had been necessary because she’d been stupid. One flaw was surmountable, but both at the same time? It was a recipe for disaster.

Zeke would have charged into the horde of undead, and they would have fallen before him. Carlos would have harried them with his shadow spears, chipping away until he could finish them off with his shadow explosion skill. Talia would do precisely what she was doing, and whittle them down until there was nothing left. Meanwhile, Abby was helpless.

Slowly, as Talia blurred around the reaper, narrowly avoiding the thing’s deadly scythe. The girl moved like a hunting animal – all grace and bestial power.  But there was technique there, too. Throughout her life, Talia had been tutored by the best of the best. And it showed.

But even that wasn’t going to be enough. Talia would eventually win, but this was an elite-tier monster. She didn’t have the capability to ensure a quick victory, and every second that passed meant that the rest of the horde drew closer. Surely, Talia could escape if that was her wish; with her speed, there was no chance the other undead could keep up. But she wouldn’t leave without Abby.

Once again, Abby felt like a burden. A dead weight that had to be carried by her more powerful friends.

She ground her teeth together as she pushed herself to her feet. Her muscles were still stiff and barely responsive, but that didn’t matter. She’d spent years training as an archer, and lately, with her obsession with keeping pace with her friends, she’d doubled down on her training. So, even with the effects of the reaper’s skill still restricting her movements, she managed to re-summon her bow, conjure an arrow, and draw back the string.

Since arriving, Talia had landed a number of attacks across the reaper’s entire body. As a result, its robes were ripped and tattered, exposing the creature’s maggoty white skin, which was mottled with the blackness of rot that came from Talia’s attacks. One spot on the monster’s chest had fared particularly poorly, and Abby could see the bubbling corruption seeping from the creature’s wounds.

She aimed at the most affected spot, unleashing her arrow. She’d only been capable of drawing the string back half as far as normal, so it shouldn’t have flown with any force. But Abby’s [Gust of Wind] skill soon made itself known, guiding the arrow forth and speeding it forward like a bullet.

The reaper saw it coming, but it was close enough that it couldn’t dodge. So, the arrow slammed into its rotting chest with enough force to send it staggering back. A bolt of lightning followed, obliterating its weakened torso.

The monster fell unceremoniously.

Talia slowed to a stop, then looked back at Abby. “Good shot,” she said. “We need to move. Now. Can you run?”

“More of a shamble,” Abby answered, her words slurred by the lack of muscle control.

“It will have to do,” said Talia, grabbing Abby’s arm and ushering her forward. Like that, they retreated, hoping against hope that they could outpace the rest of the horde.