Mistrunner 4 - Chapter 48 - Running Battle (Patreon)

I’ve seen so many planets die. Some were outright destroyed, much as the Gamoris want to do to Earth. Yet others experienced a much slower death as the wider universe exploited and oppressed until there was nothing left. Then, they were abandoned, and their people left to wither and die. I wish I could stop the cycle, but I’m only one person.

Galatira Iamaxis

I fired, but the storm of bullets never reached their target. Instead, the enemy mystic blocked each shot with a deft manipulation of Mist. Though I’d expected it, it was still an impressive display of control. I couldn’t help but wonder if I could mimic his technique.

However, my grenade was far more effective as it rolled past the mystic leader and exploded in the midst of his subordinates. I’d made the grenade myself, incorporating a few pellets of norcite, so it tore through them with ease. They died in less than a second, leaving only the leader, whose armor and Mist manipulation abilities had kept him safe from the explosion.

After the shock of enduring the initial barrage – and, presumably, my escape from the grip of his Mist – he recovered quickly, sending another stream of nanites screaming toward me. I dodged, but the collection moved like a snake, adjusting to strike me on the shoulder. It spun me around, but I kicked off one of the walls, flipping sideways before landing on my feet. I continued running toward him, burying him beneath a stream of Stinger fire along the way. He blocked each shot, but it was never meant as anything but a distraction.

The real attack was the tendril of Mist I’d extended along the floor.

It erupted from the ground, latching onto his core as I battered his defenses into nothing. There were hundreds of pseudo-nodes, but with [Multi-Mind] augmenting my thoughts, the mystic’s defenses fell in seconds. He tried to martial his Mist to create a shield against my intrusion, but I tore through the nascent barrier before it could truly form. Then, I plunged deep within his core.

At first, I marveled at the organization of nanites. He had skills, of a sort. Five of them. Yet, they were more nebulous than what might be present in a Nexus Implant. It was as if they were intended to be more malleable. Or like they had yet to fully form. The mystic, for all his power, was nothing more than a work in progress.

I was almost sad to have to tear it all down.

Of course, that wasn’t going to prevent me from doing just that. Not only did I have a job to do, but he would either capture or kill me unless I ruthlessly destroyed him. So, with those options before me, I knew precisely which one I’d pick. And when I aimed for destruction, the results were inevitable.

I ripped through his core with reckless power, tearing those delicate constellations of nanites to pieces. At the same time, I used the same strategy I’d used with all the Rift shards I’d rendered inert, and drained his personal pool of Mist of all its power. I couldn’t absorb so much energy, so I just let it dissipate into a nebulous cloud all around him. So, it looked like his aura had suddenly entered the visible spectrum.

It was an illusion, though. Those nanites were powerless.

Predictably, the mystic panicked, and I used that to my advantage, continuing with that barrage of gunfire. As his Mist drained out of him, he couldn’t muster the power to block those rounds, and so, in only seconds, he’d gone from completely unassailable to being riddled with powerful balls of superheated Mist.

It was beautiful, watching his blood splatter all over the wall. He was strong, though, and even if I’d drained most of his core, his body was still incredibly durable and powerful. So, while the blood spatter was satisfying, the true effect was little more than an annoyance for the mystic.

Still, the shock was still there, robbing him of reason. That effect wasn’t surprising, either. I suspected that he’d never endured anything like what I had just forced upon him. So, it was likely terrifying, having the very Mist upon which he’d always depended so heavily sucked out of him.

I fed on his terror.

I reveled in his shock.

And I intended to extend it.

So, without even bothering to dismiss my Stinger, I summoned the ADS and unleashed a barrage of norcite pellets in his direction. He never recognized the danger they represented until the spread overtook him, embedding those little balls of Mist-nullifying metal in his body. Normally, they would feed off the Mist in his core, but considering I’d already drained that, it went to work on the more stable nanites that had fused with his body. The results were horrific.

He immediately dropped to the ground, seizing as his muscles protested the sudden intrusion. Vomit spewed from his mouth, and judging by the smell, there were plenty of other fluids expelled from more private orifices. After that, I approached with an unhurried gait. I wanted him to feel the fear of what was about to happen. With what he’d done, killing the team of my allies, it was the least I could make him endure.

Soon enough, I stood over him.

I reached down to his twitching body and removed his helmet to reveal an unremarkable human face. I asked, “Are you from Earth? Or some other human planet?”

Through gritted teeth, he growled, “Earth…”

“Why?”

“Only chance…of…survival…”

“That didn’t work out so well for you, then,” I said, dismissing my firearms. “You should’ve been better.”

I drew my Interdiction Blade, and then, without further hesitation, I aimed a chopping attack at his neck. As I did, I infused it with a steady stream of Mist, increasing the cutting power. It sliced through the mystic’s neck, sending his head rolling free.

For a long second, I just stared at his corpse. It was still twitching, though without a head, I knew the mystic was dead. In that moment, I wondered how anyone could abandon their planet so callously. Yet, I knew the answer to that question. People were, at their core, programmed for survival. In a battle with the good of the entire world and a chance to ensure their own continued life, many would choose the latter, even at the expense of the former. That was just human nature.

Indeed, it seemed to be the driving force of every species I had encountered.

Which was a sad thing. People were meant to work together. To support one another so that we could build our way to a better collective life. That was how things were supposed to work.

But that was a useless ideal. People weren’t built like that. Instead, we were all selfish and self-interested, with little nuance aside from extending that attitude to protecting our own friends and family. It was a depressing reality, and one I didn’t think would change anytime soon. Especially not with Earth’s doom hanging over everyone’s head. Perhaps if he had more time – like a few more centuries – we’d be better off.

Probably not, though. With only a hundred years of Initialization, we’d already made a mess of things. So, there was little chance of us making productive use of even more time. At best, some tyrant would emerge to rule the planet and usher in an era of strength. At worst, we’d all kill one another off. And there wasn’t much in between those two extremes. Not that were viable, at least.

In any case, I kicked the mystic over and knelt beside his corpse to see if he had anything I wanted to take. His clothing – or armor, I suppose – appeared to have merged with his body, so unless I wanted to hack him to pieces, there was nothing to loot. So, I turned my attention to the slain prisoners. Predictably, they had nothing worthwhile on them, either. The aliens had stripped them down to nothing but their clothing, and that was nothing special.

So, that left me with little else to do but leave.

I knew that would be complicated, though. Doubtless, the rest of the mystics in the facility, as well as the Adjudicators I’d yet to kill, would try to stop me. And now that the alarm had been raised, I had to expect them to be far more attentive than they had been on my ingress. Anything else would be surprising, which would make getting out far more difficult than getting in.

And then, even after escaping, I needed to climb out. I considered calling Patrick in, but I wasn’t going to risk him and the Leviathan for something that I could very well do myself. With all that in mind, I embraced Stealth and commanded the door at the end of the hall to open.

I was immediately assaulted by seven twin streams of Mist that rammed into me. I went flying backwards under the impact as a group of mystics rushed into the corridor. When I hit the ground, I did so in a roll before quickly coming to my feet and fending off another bombardment of Mist streams. They didn’t lack strength, but they felt unsophisticated, especially when compared to what I’d seen from the last mystic I’d killed. Of course, that didn’t mean they weren’t deadly.

So, I leveraged every thread of thought to defending against the snaking tendrils of Mist that continued to assail me. It wasn’t easy, and it took all of my focus, but I managed it well enough to buy myself a little time. When I did, I took a grenade from my arsenal implant and sent it sailing int heir direction. These mystics reacted much more quickly than the last group, and someone latched onto it with a thread of Mist, slamming it into the floor. At the same time, another one manifested a dome of Mist around it. When it exploded, it did so to little effect, save for whatever Mist it had cost to create that shield.

Frustrated, I dove into one of the cells, taking cover as I went over my options. They were too far away for the ADS, which was only effective up to a range of fifteen feet or so. After that, the norcite pellets spread too far apart to disrupt any but the weakest enemies. And due to their close proximity – as well as the confined nature of the corridor – I didn’t dare use the BMAP. The Emperor was really only good against a single, powerful target.

That left me with either the Stinger or the HIRC.

I chose the latter, largely because I’d never met a problem a generous barrage of bullets couldn’t handle. So, I summoned the massive weapon, then swung out to bring it bear against my enemies. I was firing even before I was fully set, though my powerful body handled the awkward positioning easily.

The mystics at the other end of the corridor were not prepared for the bombardment of thousands of rounds per minute. With my massive modifiers, as well as the sheer power of the weapon, each bullet was stronger than my old Pulsar sniper rifle, and I’d added extra damage by using Explosive Shot.

The results were, in a word, impressive.

Deadly, too, though that was a given.

The mystics made a good show of defending against the barrage, summoning a series of strong Mist shields. Yet, they were not prepared for the sheer power I could bring to bear, and as a result, their shields were shattered. Their bodies fell soon after. So did the wall on the other side of the adjoining corridor. And the next one after that. My gunfire tore through three different walls before finally stopping. When I finally ceased my fire, every mystic was dead or dying.

Still, I knew they were dangerous.

So, I stowed the massive, hip-held gun, then drew my Interdiction Blade. I would be lying if I called what followed mercy killings. I ended their lives, but it had nothing to do with bringing their suffering to a halt. Instead, I dispatched them with the brutal efficiency of an extermination.

Others might have felt some sense of satisfaction from it. But by that point, I’d killed so many people that I’d begun to dissociate from the realities of what that truly meant. Part of me mourned what I’d begun to consider a loss of humanity, but mostly, I just knew it was necessary. They’d brought a war of extermination to our table. I was just adjusting to their rules.

Or lack thereof.

Once I’d finished the gruesome yet necessary task, I once again took stock of my options. I knew there were plenty of other mystics out there. Initial reports were that almost a hundred were involved. On top of that, I could feel them. They were only faint whispers on the nonexistent wind, but they were there nonetheless. If only those signatures had been slightly stronger, I could have simply killed them without having to move a muscle.

I hadn’t reached that point, though. Not yet, at least. So, once I’d reloaded the HIRC as well as the Stinger, I set off through the facility. Everywhere I went, I saw bodies – the results of my Ghost – and with that, I did feel a sense of grim satisfaction. Not at the killing. But rather, that the strategy had worked.

Of late, I’d begun to let myself get caught up in my mystic-esque powers, and while they were powerful, there was still a place for old tactics. My firearms were still very effective – more so than at any other point – and my {Mistrunner} abilities were just as deadly as ever. I would do well to remember that.

I stalked through the corridors, keeping my Stinger out. It was a good thing, too, because I quickly encountered an intersection of corridors full of Adjudicators. There were at least a hundred of them, all seemingly wary behind metal bulwarks as well as Mist shields facing in every direction.

I could practically feel their fear, too.

Which was appropriate, considering how easily I breached their shields to send a half dozen grenades into their midst. The little balls of destruction went in each direction, and when they exploded, they did so with a carpet of fire that was hot enough to instantaneously melt their norcite armor. I knew this because I’d sacrificed more a few crates of my ADS ammunition testing it. And considering I had no way to replace it now that the Bazaar had been destroyed, it was even more valuable than ever before.

The trick was to infuse just the right amount of Mist into the accelerant. I wanted it to fuel the impending inferno, but the resulting flames had to be completely natural or the norcite would nullify it. So, I’d spent quite a lot of time and valuable materials perfecting it. However, the results were more than worth it, at least from my perspective. The dozens of Adjudicators being melted alive were probably less appreciative of my efforts.

In any case, the moment the fires petered out, I sprang into action. Even the ones who hadn’t actually succumbed to the flames had been affected, and the integrity of their armor had been breached. As a result, the gunfire that followed was more effective than ever. The Stinger barked, sending one burst after another into the stunned warriors until, at last, they all died, confused, injured, and without any knowledge of what had actually happened.

A fitting fate for people hellbent on destroying my planet.

After that first intersection, I encountered a handful more. Using the same strategy to dispatch them, I lost count of how many I’d killed. Hundreds, at the least. Maybe the entirety of the thousand-strong force my information said the facility boasted.

In addition to the Adjudicators, I killed quite a few mystics. Compared to the ones I’d already slain, these were weak and ineffectual, and they had little chance of standing up to me. Even when they responded in force, it was a simple thing to ram through their weak Mist shields and drain them the same way I’d sapped the motivating energy from the Rift shards.

It was almost boring. Or perhaps repetitive was the right word. Maybe unremarkable. Regardless, the process was necessary, and I at least took satisfaction in the fact that I’d rid the world of a few more alien invaders.

Along the way, I accessed a terminal and deactivated the shield as well as the drilling apparatus. It had already stalled due to my previous efforts, but I wanted to make it permanent – or at least as much as I could, which meant that they would have to replace the entire system if they wanted it to work again. So, with that done, I found my way to the hatch that had provided for my entry, then climbed through.

The whole time I’d been inside, I’d considered ways to escape the mile-long shaft, but I’d only found a few options. The first would be to go with my first instinct and call Patrick in for a pick-up. However, I expected that would come with a few issues, largely that he would have to blow hole in the surface to gain entry to the shaft. That, in turn, would rain debris down on me. And while I had every reason to suspect that I could endure that kind of thing, I didn’t want to push my luck.

Or maybe I just didn’t like asking for help.

The second option was to climb my way to the top using much the same technique I’d employed on my way down. The only issue with that was that it would be slow. Very, very slow. Safe, though, which was definitely in its favor.

The third option was one that had been dancing in my thoughts for some time. Theoretically, it should be possible. I’d done similar things in the past, and on my way down, I’d come close to grasping the basics. Still, the idea that I could fly my way to the top was a daunting proposition.

Which was probably why I preferred it.

Or maybe that was just the possibility that I could fly, which I had to admit was incredibly attractive. Even as I tried to force myself to go over the pros and cons of the three options, I knew which one I would inevitably choose.

Once I acknowledged that, I braced myself for what I hoped would be a smooth flight.