Mistrunner 4 - Chapter 11 - Traps and Control (Patreon)

I wish I knew how to fix it. The world, I mean. Machines are so much easier. I can diagnose the problem, find the appropriate parts, and replace whatever needs to be replaced. But with the world – and people, I guess – everything is so much more complicated. I can’t just replace a part or two, and suddenly, everything works the way it’s supposed to.

Patrick Ward

There was an argument to be made that I should have used my Pulsar, enhancing it with all of my abilities. However, because I didn’t expect it to really do much good – due to the nature of the dervishes – I chose to save more expensive ammunition used by the Pulsar. With that in mind, I let loose with the R-14, sending a three-round burst of molten plasma to tear into the whirling mass of Mist and crystal.

The results were as expected. The first round hit one of the crystals, cracking it with sheer momentum, but the second passed through the swirling Mist to hit another crystal on dervish’s far side. Finally, the third missed the crystals altogether, slamming into the crystalline wall on the other side.

Then, the dervish reacted, whirling in place for a split second before tearing across the corridor in my direction. However, I was already gone, sprinting down the hall, then turning a corner. I could hear the thing behind me – all clinking crystals and rushing wind – but I didn’t dare pause long enough to even glance backward. Instead, I used every point of my enhanced attributes to propel me with as much speed as I could muster.

Seconds later, I turned the final corner, sliding across the floor to crash into the wall before bouncing away and continuing my trek. Almost a hundred yards away, I saw Patrick – or rather, his white-and-gold armor – looming before the wall that had once been the palace’s entrance. More importantly, between us was the collection of small cylinders that I hoped would trap the thing.

I reached it within a couple of seconds, then dove through while shouting, “Now!”

Patrick didn’t follow my orders. Instead, as I rolled to my feet, he waited another couple of agonizing seconds before he activated it. Skidding to a stop as my momentum dissipated, I whipped back around to see tiny arcs of lightning bound from one anchor to another until there was an entire sphere comprised of a webwork of Mist channels surrounding the dervish.

Even from a dozen or so yards away, I could feel the agitated Mist rattling my every cell, which was anything but a pleasant sensation that made me equal parts jittery, nauseous, itch, and in pain. But it was barely bearable – especially when I saw the dervish railing against the confines of the Mist trap, and to no avail.

“It’s not getting out, right?” I asked, watching the thing slam its crystals into the spherical web of quivering Mist. Over and over, it attacked the trap, but even if it filled the corridor with the screeching sound of shattering glass, it seemed incapable of escape.

“I don’t think so,” Patrick said, his voice distorted by strain as much as it was altered by its passage through the armor’s communications system. “But I can’t hold it indefinitely, so you need to figure out how to kill it before my Mist runs out.”

That’s when I started shooting. I knew it was inefficient, and I missed with a disturbing amount of shots, but over the next thirty seconds, I managed to destroy the vast majority of the crystals. As my first magazine went dry, Patrick grunted, “Can’t…hold it…any longer.”

Just then, the trap deactivated, freeing the dervish. With the bulk of its crystals having been destroyed, it had mostly become a formless cloud of Mist. But even as it surged forward, I had to believe that destroying the rest of its crystals would destroy it. So, I continued to fire, one three-round burst after another until it drew within a few feet. Then, I used Teleport right before it made contact.

By that point, Patrick had summoned his broad Mist shield, which he thrust at the cloud of Mist and crystals. It hit with a thunderous impact, stopping the dervish’s advance. Meanwhile, I kept firing, and, at last, I managed to destroy the last of the crystals.

But it didn’t stop.

In fact, the Mist swirled even faster, scouring layers from the floor and the crystalline wall. It also wrapped around Patrick’s shield, seeping over the top and extending an amorphous tendril of blue-glowing Mist toward the armor.

Instinctively, I knew the armor wouldn’t survive contact with the dervish. And if the armor fell prey to its touch, then Patrick would soon follow. I couldn’t allow that. But I also had no idea how to stop it. My weapons were ill-suited to combat the formless creature, and without the ability to Misthack, I had nothing else going for me.

I watched impotently as the swirl of Mist continued its inexorable reach towards Patrick. I wasn’t idle. I continued to shoot. But my rounds, as devastating as they often were, proved entirely effective against such a formless foe. And with my {Mist Warden} senses, I could see it all so clearly.

Patrick couldn’t, though. That was clear enough.

Desperately, I clawed at my own awareness, searching for anything that might make a difference. And suddenly, something snapped. If I could see the Mist auras, perhaps I could manipulate them as well. Using the same strategies that enabled me to overcome the complex defenses of even the strongest Mistwalls, I focused everything I had on Misthack.

I screamed with the effort.

And suddenly, the world broke.

Or perhaps it was my mind.

Tears traced lines down my cheeks as, unexpectedly, I could see everything so much more clearly. I couldn’t just see the auras. I could feel them. More, I was keenly aware of just how densely the Mist infused the very air around me. It was like I’d suddenly developed an entirely new sense, and the strain of so much stimuli was enough to very nearly tear my mind asunder.

But I pushed through it, using the bones of Misthack to reach out to that dense cloud of Mist and latch onto it. The moment my mind touched it, the thing went wild, undulating and spinning with increased ferocity. I ignored it, focusing every ounce of my being on the task at hand.

With a growl, I grabbed hold of a single nanite. It was microscopic, but I could feel it just as clearly as if it had been the size of my fist. Then, with a simple flex of my mind – which was much more difficult than it sounds – I ripped it free. With my {Mist Warden} senses, I watched as the thing tendril of some unidentifiable power that connected it to the rest of the cloud snapped.

That got an even more vivid response from the dervish, but even as blood leaked from my nose, I kept going, targeting the next nanite and repeating the action. Over and over, with ever increasing rapidity, I tore the cloud apart. There weren’t just thousands of them. Millions was an understatement as well. In fact, there were tens of millions of the tiny nanites comprising the cloud of Mist.

I’d long known that my processing speed was much quicker than that of an average person, but normally, I couldn’t really bring that to bear. It showed during Misthacks and Mistwalks, but otherwise, I was incapable of expressing that insane processing speed in the physical world.

But in this instance, I could bring the full weight of that characteristic to bear. And for every passing second, I ripped hundreds of the nanites away. Then, thousands. Tens of thousands. My mind was moving at such a speed as to make the world look like it was going in slow motion. But still, I pushed further. I went faster.

I knew there would be consequences.

How could there not be?

And yet, I also knew that Patrick was going to die if I let up. I hadn’t found any other ways to harm the dervishes, and so, I had to focus on what I could do.

Which is precisely what I did, over and over until it started to tremble with instability. I kept going, ripping bigger chunks away with every passing instant, and the intensity of the shuddering continued to mount. Soon enough, its undulations grew wild and unpredictable as it fell from Patrick’s shield, only to writhe on the ground.

Seeing weakness, I redoubled my efforts.

Vaguely, I recognized the sharp pain jabbing into my mind. I was also aware that the flow of blood from my nostrils hadn’t stopped. Indeed, it had been joined by a similar flow from my ears. Bloody red tears fell down my cheeks, but I ignored it all.

Only about ten seconds passed, but in that time, I ripped millions of nanites away. In the end, I was tearing them free without conscious thought, and even then, it felt like hours had passed. Finally, the last, stubborn bit, came away, and the dervish died.

If it was ever really alive in the first place.

I fell forward onto my hands and knees, but a swirl of Mist behind me grabbed my attention before I could give in to the consequences of my exertion. I whipped around – awkwardly – and saw the shards of destroyed crystal coalesce into a single prism that took the shape of the holes I’d seen around the exit.

It clattered to the floor.

And I finally collapsed onto my face. Unfortunately, I didn’t black out, though. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, I was forced to endure a sharp, stabbing sensation in my brain that pushed right up to the edge of unconsciousness but kept me from plunging into that relieving abyss.

Vaguely, I was aware of Patrick kneeling beside me, but I couldn’t pay him any mind. Instead, I focused on the only thing my addled mind could latch onto. At some point during the fight, I’d received a notification:

Abitlity: Misthack has evolved into Mist Control. Retains all previous characteristics, while gaining the ability to manipulate Mist directly, though with great difficulty. Continued use may result in further evolution.

I felt something jab into my shoulder, and I harnessed just enough control over my body to jerk to the side. However, Patrick’s surprisingly strong grip kept me from moving too far, and I heard him say, “Easy, Mira. Just give it a minute. It’s only a med-hypo.”

“It’s dead, right?” I muttered, my voice hoarse. Was that from all the screaming? Or was it something else?

“If it was ever alive, it’s not anymore,” he stated. “Now relax. I’ll keep a lookout for any others.”

I wanted to point out that that would do little good; he’d already proven that he was incapable of dealing with the things, after all. However, I couldn’t muster the strength to do much more than lift my head.

I made a habit of pushing my limits. That was the part of training I truly enjoyed – seeing just how far I could go before my body – or mind, as it were – failed me. But even with all that experience, I’d never felt as exhausted as I felt at that moment. It wasn’t just physical fatigue, though that was part of it. It was like I’d reached all of my limits – body, mind, and Mist – all at once, and the result was that I felt as weak as at any time since my Awakening.

I considered using a Mist booster, but when I took stock of my stores, I realized that I didn’t really need it. What I had done – whatever that was – hadn’t taken an ounce of my personal Mist.

Which made no sense.

Tentatively, I turned my attention to the senses I’d gained upon becoming a {Mist Warden}, and I was surprised to find that they were sharper than ever before. More, I was aware of each individual nanite, and without even really focusing.

Before I even thought about it, I reached out, grabbing a single nanite from the ambient Mist and pulling it to me. I sensed that I could have gotten many more, but I wanted to take it easy. Even moving that single nanite was difficult, though not nearly as straining as what I had experienced while I was dismantling the dervish.

Perhaps my repercussions had been magnified by my insistence on forcing Misthack to do something it was ill-suited to do. Maybe that was why it had evolved. Not because I’d met some sort of prerequisites, but rather because I’d forced it to do so.

I shook my head – which I regretted because it caused a sharp uptick in the pain – then let out a groan.

“Are you okay?” asked Patrick.

“No. Not really. Maybe? I don’t know,” I said. Then, as I forced myself upright and shifted to lean against the crystalline wall of the palace hall, I explained what had happened. Patrick asked plenty of questions, most of which focused on my health, and I answered them as best I could. But I didn’t know enough to provide more than a few assurances that I was fine.

Probably.

I really couldn’t get more specific than that because, according to the health readout on my HUD, there was nothing wrong with me. Still, I wasn’t going to trust that over the way I felt.

Over the next couple of hours, I slowly began to recover. At first, the piercing pain simply faded into a pounding headache, which in turn became little more than a dull ache behind my eyes. Eventually, it dissipated altogether. Then, the fatigue went the same way, eventually fading into nothing. Soon enough, that neutrality turned the corner into vigor, and thus, I returned to normal.

It took longer than expected, especially considering that with my high attributes and the advanced state of my Regeneration, I could heal from all but the most serious injuries in a few hours. So, the fact that a headache took most of a day was a testament to how much damage I’d done to myself.

But it wasn’t all for naught. I’d evolved an ability, and for the first time, I had done so without it being attached to my class. That had to count for something, and what’s more, now that I could more easily manipulate Mist, I felt that dismantling the dervishes would be far less dangerous. Perhaps I could even finish them off before they overloaded Patrick’s trap.

“I think I’m feeling alright,” I said.

Patrick hadn’t moved from where he’d station himself at the head of the corridor. There, he’d remained, his Mist shield deployed, and ready to defend me with everything he had.

“Are you sure?” he asked, finally turning to face me. He was still in his armor, though I could tell from its sluggish movements that he was on the verge of using his entire store of Mist.

“I am,” I said, summoning a bottle of water and a rag from my arsenal implant. Then, I started cleaning myself up, wiping the blood from my face. It wasn’t perfect – I knew I’d missed some – but I’d take a shower when we got back to the Leviathan. Until then, I just had to accept that I was going to remain a bit bloody.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, finally opening the suit’s cockpit. The chestplate of the armor lifted, revealing a haggard-looking Patrick. “Those things probably require some sort of special equipment to kill. And we don’t have it. If we were back in the Leviathan with all my equipment and parts, I might be able to cobble something together. But I emptied all but the essentials out of my storage so we’d have enough room for however many Rift shards we can find. And I don’t –”

“It’s fine, Pick. The strategy worked.”

“It most certainly did not, Mira.”

“No, it did. I know that because the monster’s dead, and we’re still alive. I even evolved a skill. So, that’s a win-win. Or maybe a win-win-win. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Mira, you almost died.”

“Not the first time,” I pointed out. “Probably not the last, either. Anyway, Mist manipulation is a lot easier now that I have Mist Control. I think I could repeat what I just did without even bleeding from my eyes now.”

“That’s a terrible gauge of success.”

I shrugged. “It’ll be fine. Once you get topped off on Mist, let’s get the trap set back up, and we’ll kill the rest of these little bastards, huh?” I said, pushing myself to my feet. It was a mistake, and I promptly stumbled. I caught myself on the wall, but I couldn’t deny that my legs were still a little wobbly. So, I said, “Maybe we’ll give it a few more hours, though. I need to get my feet back under me.”