BIRTHRIGHT - B01:C05 - A Believer - DRAFT (Patreon)

Korban

Following these three soldiers felt like a lapse in judgment. If I had any common sense, I should be making a beeline for my car, heading straight home to my kids. Yet, if these soldiers held even a sliver of hope that demolishing those crystal-coated steam stacks could halt the chaos, then wasn’t that the surest path to securing my children’s safety? The presence of goblins astride wolves, prowling nearby, made the decision for me.

Venturing out alone while they hunted us would be tantamount to walking into the jaws of death. Thus, despite my initial misgivings, helping these three soldiers emerged as my only sensible course of action. If it meant creating a safer world for my children, I was prepared to do anything, even lay down my life, if necessary.

With this resolve weighing heavily on me, I continued forward with the trio. Upon closer inspection, I realized each of them couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than my two eldest children.

Every so often, one of those pint-sized green monsters would launch into a daring sprint, illuminated under the nocturnal glow of the aurora above. Their expressions twisted in a rage as wild as the wolves they rode upon. Saliva sprayed in all directions, their jaws snapping wildly, as if caught between the desire to intimidate us and the urge to gnaw off their own ears. A single shot from one of the rifles, with its hefty .50 caliber rounds, would find its mark, abruptly halting their mad rush. The sight of a limb or head gruesomely detonating upon impact acted as a potent deterrent, momentarily dissuading the others from advancing. It seemed they possessed the short-term memory of goldfish or perhaps the impulsive recklessness of toddlers, eager to forget the danger and another one would rush headlong into peril once again, meeting a similar fate.

Relief washed over me, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips as yet another goblin toppled alongside its wolf. Just a day ago—or was it still the same day?—these creatures seemed invincible, as if humanity’s end was inevitable. But now, there was a glimmer of hope, a belief that perhaps we stood a chance. How mistaken I was to think so.

As we began to cross the bridge over the river, my gaze narrowed on an oddly dressed goblin peeking from behind a building. Unlike its bare counterparts, this one had managed to don some form of clothing, which in itself was surprising. It wore what appeared to be a tank top, stretched and warped into something resembling a robe or dress on its diminutive frame. This goblin shared the frenzied look of its kin—drool and slight foam at its mouth—but it lacked the wild, self-destructive behavior of gnawing at its own ear. There was an unsettling intelligence in its eyes, a semblance of recognition, like a flicker of lucidity in someone with dementia.

The creature wielded a long, crudely fashioned stick, seemingly unremarkable with its fresh cuts, indicating it had been recently severed from a tree. Yet, what set it apart was the crystal tied to its tip, pulsating with mesmerizing swirls of pink and blue. With a deranged cackle, the goblin struck the stick’s butt end against the ground, sending a flash of light cascading into the night, amplifying the already mystical glow of the aurora overhead. In that moment, all four of us came to a standstill, caught mid-stride, utterly transfixed and uncertain of the spectacle that had just unfolded before our eyes.

“Oh, fuck. Move!” bellowed one of the soldiers, his voice cutting through the eerie silence, drawing my attention to his panic-stricken face.

As I shifted my gaze back towards the goblin brandishing the stick, it momentarily fell upon one of the corpses. To my horror, it began to twitch unnaturally, its body contorting in jerky motions as it started to rise from the ground.

“Screw this,” Donalds exclaimed.

He stepped beside me, raised his rifle, and fired a single shot directly into the chest of the twitching corpse, knocking it back into a heap. However, it didn’t cease its movements; instead, it began to rise once again. And it wasn’t alone. By this point, about five goblin corpses, along with their wolves, were all moving in the same jerky, unnatural manner. Yet, what truly sent a chill through me was the sight of the massive, dinosaur-sized beast we had taken down earlier, now beginning to twitch. The sight of it stirring back to life froze the blood in my veins.

“Look, over there on top of the parking garage, there’s one of our chutes hanging over the side,” a soldier pointed out, sparking a mental note in me that I really should learn the names of the other two. Yet, considering our current predicament, that was hardly a priority.

“Let’s head that way and see if we can find anyone else,” Donalds suggested, just as he took a shot with his rifle. The bullet tore through half the skull of a goblin, sending its convulsing body stumbling backward—only for it to unnervingly rise again, now missing half of its head. “Well, shit. Looks like the movies got it wrong. Headshots don’t work on zombies,” he muttered under his breath.

“Wow! Donalds, we don’t use the ‘Z’ word. It’s walkers,” one of the two other soldiers, half-jokingly, chided in response.

“Oh, screw you, Hendrix,” Donalds retorted, as we all turned to start running.

At this point, I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening; I was merely following them, aware that our ultimate goal was to destroy the two smokestacks in hopes that everything would return to normal. Yet, a glance at the aurora overhead convinced me that it wouldn’t be so straightforward.

As we neared the bridge’s end, we were met with a charge from a pack of five undead wolves, conspicuously absent of their goblin riders. Meanwhile, the undead goblins themselves were not far behind their wolves, their movements a chaotic blur of jerky motions. Seeking temporary refuge, we took cover behind two abandoned vehicles, within which lay the mutilated remains of their previous occupants.

Using the space between the trunk and hood as impromptu rifle rests, our gunfire didn’t stop the undead’s charge but did manage to slow them down, making several stumble and fall. A few were even dismembered, turning their relentless sprints into pitiful crawls.

Suddenly, a wolf, displaying twitchy predatory inelegance, leaped over the car hood next to me, striking down the soldier at my side, whose name I had never come to know. Its jaws snapped shut around his head in a gruesome clamp. Driven by raw instinct, I swiftly grabbed my rifle from its position, aiming at the beast now fixing its malevolent gaze on me. Without a moment’s hesitation, I fired, the bullet piercing through its gaping maw to devastate its spinal column, bringing it to the ground. Despite the catastrophic injury, it made a valiant attempt to rise, hindered only slightly by its shattered bones and damaged spine.

In a state of panic, I fired repeatedly, continuing to pull the trigger long after my ammunition had been exhausted. It was only when one of the other soldiers, I think it was Donalds, grabbed my shoulder to snap me out of my frenzied state that I ceased firing. As I instinctively reached for a spare magazine, the harsh reality set in—I was completely out of ammo.

“We need to go,” Hendrix shouted, taking down a wolf and its pursuing goblin with a single shot.

I nodded in agreement as I frantically searched the fallen soldier beside me for a magazine, only to discover he had none left—likely the reason the wolf had overtaken him. Fueled by frustration, I threw my rifle to the ground and turned to flee, suddenly feeling unburdened without the weight of the weapon.

“Oh, shit! The living ones are coming out again,” Donalds exclaimed, firing off a few more shots before hurrying to catch up with us.

Gratefully, the parking garage was nearby, compelling us to run as fast as possible. My lack of fitness became embarrassingly clear when Donalds, even after pausing to fire at our pursuers, easily outpaced me. Gasping for air and fueled by frustration, I shed the SWAT body armor I had snagged from the precinct, tossing it aside to lighten my load. Although I doubted it improved my speed, it helped me keep up as we bolted into the mall’s open parking garage, overlooking the river and the adjacent park. This was the place where a parachute had been spotted, fluttering from the top floor’s edge.

As I labored up the incline of the concrete parking garage, my breath heaving and wheezing, a part of me wondered why we were driving ourselves into what seemed like a dead end, especially with monsters on our heels. Surprisingly, those creatures hadn’t followed us into the garage, almost as if they were regrouping outside, which did nothing to ease my growing sense of dread. Despite this, I kept pace with the two remaining soldiers, gasping for air as we ascended.

Reaching the summit of the parking garage, the intensity of our escape began to wane; for the soldiers, it morphed into a brisk jog, while I lagged behind, my pace reduced to a faltering walk upon glimpsing our destination. Out of breath, I staggered up the final stretch to see a man seated on the ground, his back propped against a parked car, pain etched across his features.

“Doc, glad to see you’re still with us,” Hendrix announced as he neared the man. “You got anyone else up here with you?” he inquired.

Shaking his head, the man replied, “No, just me. Pretty sure I broke my leg when I landed.”

“Well, shit,” Donalds grumbled, moving closer to inspect the man’s injury. After a thorough examination, he concluded, “Doesn’t look broken, more like a sprain. You must’ve just landed on it wrong. You’ll manage if we can rig up some kind of support for you to lean on while we move—”

Mid-sentence, Hendrix smashed the window of a nearby car and extracted a cane, its bottom adorned with four tennis balls. “Will this work?” he asked, a smirk playing across his lips.

Doc groaned, mustering the strength to stand as he leaned heavily on the cane. “So, what’s the plan now?” he inquired, wincing slightly. “Is the mission scrapped, given our numbers have dwindled?”

Donalds responded, “The rest of the military is amassing at the border, preparing to advance this way. We were essentially the vanguard, tasked with verifying if destroying the crystals would resolve the situation. If not, our objective was to secure the site until reinforcements could bolster our position.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work anymore,” Hendrix chimed in, suggesting they find a spot to lay low until backup arrived.

The urge to scream in frustration was nearly unbearable. Reflecting on everything, I knew I should’ve simply returned to my car and gone home to my children. Yet, compelled by a sense of duty, I thought I could be part of the solution. My fist clenched, ready to vent my frustration on the nearest window, but I froze.

My gaze was drawn to a large alligator-like head cresting the edge of the parking garage. Disbelief rooted me to the spot; the creature couldn’t possibly be tall enough to reach this high—unless it was scaling the building. At that moment, a howl rose from below, a clear sign that the wolves, goblins, and the undead had made their decision to climb to our position. Alarmingly, they were not far beneath us, just down the last incline we had hurriedly ascended.

My eyes widened in alarm when I saw that goblin from earlier, the one with the stick—or rather, what now clearly appeared to be a magical staff, judging by the way lightning danced around the crystal at its tip, aimed directly at me. That’s when it happened: magic! True, the reanimation of the dead had been my first real glimpse into a world beyond my understanding, but it didn’t truly register until that bolt of lightning burst forth from the staff’s tip, hurtling straight for me. In an instant, I was lifted off my feet and propelled nearly twenty feet backward, tumbling across the ground before slamming into a wall. Miraculously, my trajectory had flung me away from the still-climbing dinosaur-like creature, sparing me from becoming an easy snatch. Even more astonishingly, I found myself still alive, dazed but intact, amidst the chaos.

Groaning, I coughed, feeling sparks akin to static electricity coursing through and around me, sending ripples and jolts through my body without causing pain. The real agony stemmed from my back, aching from the harsh collision with the wall. As I blinked open my eyes and slowly propped myself up to sit, with my legs sprawled before me, I caught the astonished and bewildered gazes of the two soldiers and the one they referred to as Doc. Turning my gaze downward, my head wobbling unsteadily, I saw lightning still crackling over and around my body—a spectacle as baffling to me as it was to them. Oddly, I felt somewhat drunk—well, perhaps more than just somewhat.

At this moment, the trio sought shelter behind the relative safety of a nearby vehicle. The ammunition count for Donalds and Hendrix remained uncertain, and Doc appeared to be unarmed. Concurrently, the goblins and wolves had reached the top floor, while the grotesquely exposed neck of the undead hybrid—a terrifying fusion of giraffe and alligator traits, fully coated in scales, and entirely an abomination—had just crested over the ledge of the parking garage’s uppermost level.

I let out a wheeze followed by a slight cough, noticing with raised eyebrows that sparks were leaping from my mouth with each exhale. “W-What the hell,” I stammered, each word accompanied by tiny bursts of electricity.

Maybe it was the dizziness clouding my judgment or possibly a concussion dictating my next move, but in a moment of what could only be described as drunken folly, I pointed my finger like it was a pistol, thumb cocked like a hammer, and whispered, “Bang.”

Time seemed to freeze for a split second before a burst of light shot from my fingertip, forcefully snapping my arm back and smacking it against the wall behind me. A sharp cry of pain escaped me as a lightning bolt surged from my finger gun, striking the undead alligator’s head with such force that it exploded into a shower of flesh, sending its body, which hadn’t yet fully climbed over the edge, tumbling down to the street below.

“What the fuck was that?” came the shocked exclamation from one of the soldiers, Hendrix, if my dizzy mind recalled correctly. My surroundings were still a whirl of motion, disorienting me further.

Cradling my hand—previously my impromptu firearm—close to my chest after it had collided with the wall, I noticed the charred tip of my finger. My focus shifted, and I aimed my other hand at the goblin wielding the staff, feeling the last of the sparks around me fading away. Our gazes locked briefly, and in that fleeting moment, I couldn’t discern if its actions were driven by raw instinct or a flicker of intelligence. However, I thought I detected a hint of fear in its eyes. A grin spread across my face as I whispered “bang” once again, experiencing a rush of power amidst the absurdity of the situation.

This time, braced for the recoil, my arm barely flinched. As the last remnants of arcing energy around me dissipated, they struck the staff-wielding goblin, reducing him to chunks. Simultaneously, the horde of undead near him collapsed to the ground, becoming nothing more than lifeless bodies. The remaining goblins, including those mounted on wolves, turned and fled, displaying a level of intelligence I hadn’t previously attributed to their rabid behavior.

Emerging from behind cover, the one the others referred to as Doc approached me, limping on his cane. His eyes were wide with astonishment, even larger than mine, as I redirected my attention to my hand in wonder. The drunken sensation had completely dissipated along with the last traces of the electricity that had encircled me moments before.

“H-How did you do that?” Doc asked, his voice filled with amazement.

“I don’t know,” I admitted truthfully. “I just did,” was the only explanation I could muster.

Honestly, if pressed to explain, it felt existential, as if my very being—perhaps my soul—instinctively knew what to do. It was as if that power had been my birthright. The strangest thing? If I closed my eyes, I could still sense it all around me. I sighed and then started to move. With some effort, I slowly got back to my feet, feeling my entire body ache as I did.

“Fascinating,” Doc muttered, a smile creeping onto his face as if Frankenstein had found his monster. “I’m Herman, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending his hand for a shake.

Dr. Herman

“Korban,” the man offered his hand in return, shaking my extend hand.

A smile spread across my face as I felt a small zap from our clasped hands. “Fascinating,” I couldn’t help but mutter again, wondering if this was the third or perhaps the fifth time, I had expressed my intrigue.

To my surprise, Korban began walking away. Despite the obvious pain he was in, it wasn’t a limp like mine but more a stiffness throughout his body—a natural response, I supposed, after the spectacle I’d just witnessed. I observed as he approached the spot where he had somehow conjured lightning from his fingertips, annihilating the green creature. He bent down, retrieving the stick adorned with a pink and blue crystal at its tip, further piquing my fascination.

“Is that one of the crystals we’re searching for?” I asked, my voice faltering as I limped towards him.

“It appears so,” Korban responded. “The two smokestacks aren’t far from here, and they’re covered with this stuff,” he added. “Though, I’m not sure if we should head there now.”

“What? Why not?” I asked, bewildered by his hesitation.

“He’s right,” one of the last two surviving special forces members said, prompting me to turn and stare at him in disbelief. “As far as we know, we’re the only ones left. Our ammunition is nearly depleted, and it requires an excessive amount to take down even the weakest of those creatures,” he elaborated. “Our best option is to find a secure location and wait for the main forces to arrive. That is, unless ‘sparky’ over there can replicate that magic bolt?”

“Wish I knew how,” Korban replied, idly twirling the three-foot stick.

“We’re so close,” I sighed, hesitating for a moment. “Aren’t these buildings connected by a series of walkways over the streets?”

“Not all the way to the old steam plant,” Korban replied, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he peered into the crystal.

“Why don’t we take the walkway as close as we can, then make our way across the buildings for the final stretch?” I suggested, hoping for a middle ground.

“No way, Doc,” the other special forces member interjected. I made a mental note to try and remember their names. “If your theory is right, then that’s the epicenter of all this chaos. We don’t have the manpower or firepower to secure that location for your research, much less neutralize it now.”

“I still have the explosives,” the other soldier chimed in, “but facing more of those monsters without sufficient ammunition would be a death wish.”

“Maybe not,” Korban declared, capturing my attention. He detached the baseball-sized crystal from the stick and discarded the wood. Grasping the crystal, his smile broadened as electricity danced around him. “Guess I’m a believer in magic now,” he chuckled, his eyes sparking with a newfound power.

“What the shit, man? Are you seeing this, Hendrix?” the soldier exclaimed in disbelief.

“I see it, Donalds. Still working on the believing part.”

I almost missed their names as I marveled at this Korban. “How are you doing that?” I whispered in awe.

“I’m not sure, it’s more of a feeling,” Korban answered. “Want to try?” he offered out the crystal as the electricity suddenly dissipated from around him.

With a trembling hand, I grasped the crystal. Much to my sorrow, I felt nothing. There was no buzz, no zapping, utterly nothing. I tilted my head from side to side as I peered into the swirling vortex of pinks and blues within the object, but felt nothing whatsoever. With a frown, I handed it back to the man who happily accepted it as electricity started arcing around him again.

“Fascinating,” I muttered.