B2 - Chapter 5: A Jumping Fish (Patreon)

Author's note: Apologies for the delay. I'm back in town and the schedule should go back to normal.

Author's note two: I wonder why Logan is so angry...? :-)

If he had the ability to go back in time, the Logan from three days ago would be telling himself that he was nuts to backtrack and return to the snake swarm when he’d needed every ounce of effort to escape in the first place. Logan was anxious to get back to Lara and he’d done everything he could to escape the trial dungeon to do just that, but even after that, he’d still ended up ahead of schedule. And in his back pocket, he had something that would make a backtrack irrelevant.

[A continuous portal generation crystal. A Grade.]

If it did what he thought it did, backtracking and adding three hours to his journey would be irrelevant. Logan could think about a location, think about Richton’s Tomb, and he could be there.

If it worked that way.

That was a big ‘if.’

And yet it didn’t matter. Even if the portal generation crystal didn’t do what he thought it did, with his increases to his endurance, strength and agility attributes, he could power through the shoreline like the Flash and be there in a day at the most. That would get him to Richton’s Tomb a day before the agreed upon meeting time, allowing him plenty of time to wait for Lara and the kids so he could clean himself up and get ready for the journey.

It was the smart move. If he decided to rush into Hope’s End before the agreed upon meeting time, Lara and the kids could already be on the move, and he’d miss them entirely. Hope’s End wasn’t a small city. He was talking thousands and thousands of people here… if the monsters and the System purges hadn’t killed them first. There was a ton of natural gas furnaces and water tanks in the Okanagan.

Logan frowned. Despite his new confidence, a smidgen of doubt and worry leeched into his thoughts. And yet, he was convinced it was the right decision. If he arrived at Hope’s End as is, with two of his most powerful skills locked, he’d be handicapped. His high attributes would take him far, but he’d learned his lesson with the fight against the Silverdagger Clan. It would be stupid to rush into Hope’s End if he had the opportunity to spend a few hours grinding out quick level increases. If he leveled up enough, he was convinced he could unlock both skills.

More than that, beyond everything, after his fight with the Silverdagger Clan, his frustration at everything that had happened, he wanted to kill some shit. Just the thought of it made his blood feel hot. The snake swarm had made him run for his life; well, how about this time, they ran from Logan?

And on top of that, he had access to something that would make him even faster.

The Pink Sock.

“Are you ready?” he asked Ernie.

Ernie’s tentacles flexed, latching onto Logan like vacuum cleaners. “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be ready for!”

“You’ll see. Once we get started, can you keep an eye on the sun for me? I only want to spend a few hours on this at most and… well, I expect I won’t be thinking of anything but grinding.”

Ernie quivered. “Whatever shaped you while I was gone is making me envious. Such violence! Such anger! A Logan mad monster!”

Logan flexed his talons. The Pink Sock had seemed ridiculous at first—something crafted by the System to make him appear a fool. But after mastering it in the tactician trial and using it in the fight with the Silverdagger Clan, it was his third most valuable item, the second the Cursed Rope, the first being his spatial collar.

When he was prepping for the tactician trial, he’d figured out how to make the Pink Sock work through visualization. Jumping up and down didn’t do shit; it was only as he pictured himself leaping and pushing with his feet that he’d launched into the air. That said one thing to him. That the Pink Sock had nothing to do with what was underneath his feet and everything to do with what he envisioned. While in the middle of the air, if he convinced himself that the air was flat ground, with that logic, wouldn’t it mean that the Pink Sock would work the same?

That meant that when he was underwater, he didn’t need sandy bottom to make the Pink Sock launch him forward like a rocket—he only needed his brain. The water engulfed him from all sides, strands of long, green seaweed swaying in the current. As he let himself submerge, he looked towards the west. In that direction was Rattlesnake Island and the snake swarm. By now, they were miles away, and even with his high perception, he could see nothing but endless blue water. Could he do this?

“Logan?” Ernie prodded, flexing one of his tentacles. Logan’s exoskeleton acted like a second skin, and he could feel everything around him. It was as if the current were caressing his bare arms and Ernie was clinging to his bare back.

“Hold on.”

Closing his eyes, Logan pictured his Pink Sock clad foot pressing against the same shear cliff wall as in the tactician trial. It was solid. Solid rock. There was no water, no lake. No reason why it wouldn’t obey. Flexing his talons in the water, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration, Logan pictured himself leaping off that solid—real—shear wall and launching into the air like a speeding train.

With a gathering force, like a mini whirlpool swirling around his foot, Logan knew something was happening, but he hadn’t yet moved.

He needed more visualization.  

His nose scrunching, Logan brought up the image of the gorge. With walls towering on both sides, a cliff face so high it might as well be Mt. Everest. And in the middle of the gorge, right at the bottom, was Logan. There was no water around him.

No lake.

Air surrounded him. Nothing but air.

No force could hold him back, no resistance. For he was a bullet, and his foot was the trigger. He would leap through the air with nothing holding him back. In his mind, Logan pictured himself pushing off with his foot and launching towards the cliff wall, scaling the cliff, jumping, jumping, jumping.

Around his foot, the whirlpool increased, fuzzy bubbles, swirling water, like someone vigorously stirring a pot of water.

Then it became a tornado.

And just like that, Logan hurtled through the water like a sailfish, the water and seaweed rushing by in a blur. With an excited fist bump, Logan straightened his arm, lifting the other so he held both arms out in front of his body like Superman flying at the speed of light.

“Logan, you’ve turned into a fish!” said Ernie excitedly, his tentacles flexing and tightening as he held on like he was clinging to the outside of a shuttle hurtling through space.

But it wasn’t continuous. Right now, his Pink Sock was a jumping sock and not a flying sock. He had bursts of speed as he ‘jumped’ which slowed down. As his speed decreased, Logan once again pictured that shear wall underneath his foot, visualizing jumping once again, leaping and scaling the wall. Unlike in a real cliff situation, once he leaped, there was nothing to hit, only endless water.

He sped through the water like a bullet.

***

As the water grew shallower, the deep blue water turned green as the sun reflected on the algae-covered boulders and rocks below. Hell yeah. He’d travelled miles in a fraction of the time. Logan stopped visualizing and began swimming instead. A journey that had taken forever in the boat took no time at all. It must have been half an hour at most, and Rattlesnake Island was already approaching.

Logan kicked up with his feet and breached the surface. No snakes yet, but they had to be around here. The smog was just as bad as last time, but unlike before, his increased perception attribute let him see through the thick layer of smoke.

The island was thirty feet in front of him, its jagged, rocky surface like the top of a bald mountain. Scattered pine trees struggled to grow out of the ground, some growing diagonal and just barely clinging to the earth. Up at the top, the rock face leveled off, flattening, and rattlesnake straw grass rustled in the breeze.

The island had no beachfront at all, nothing but jagged, sharp rocks on the shoreline. Normally, they would have been difficult to scale while he was in the water, but not anymore. Logan just had to think of jumping and he’d be there.

He debated taking out the canoe, but then thought, fuck it.

He didn’t need it.

“Logan, I liked that!” beamed Ernie. “Let’s do more speedy races! Ernie is stealthy, he is smart, but speed like that isn’t something I’ve ever achieved! Poor Larry is miles behind!”

They were so close to the island that he could stand up in the water. Logan began walking towards land rather than swimming. “In the future, sure. But after this we’re heading directly to Hope’s End. Right now, we have slaughtering to do.”

As Logan’s shoulders breached the surface, then his upper chest, Ernie bounced on his back, swinging two tentacles like a boxer hitting a punching bag. “I’m ready! I’m ready! But…” Ernie sounded uncertain.

“What is it?”

“Levels are good! I like levels! But what about minions? The icky ugh flying snakes would make good minions, yes? Yes yes yes.”

Logan turned his head and gave Ernie a look. That’s right, Ernie was trying to build an army. “How many do you want?”

Ernie’s eyes were wide. Hesitating, he flexed a tentacle and then finally whispered, “Two hundred?”

Logan snorted. “Leave some for me, will you? How about twenty?”

Ernie huffed and pretended to be annoyed, but his eyes shone with greed. “Fine. I suppose twenty will do!”

The way Logan was feeling, it would be difficult from restraining himself from killing them all. Around his arm, the Cursed Rope flexed as it picked up on his emotions. He was so angry, a visceral rage rushing through his belly and festering into a plague. He wanted to kill, he wanted someone to pay. More than anything, he wanted the System to pay for putting him into a situation that forced him to kill someone he had compared to Lara.

All the bullshit conditions—locking skills, forcing him through hoops. Logically, Logan understood that the original System had been FUBAR, a glitchy as fuck AI minion, but as far as he was concerned, they were from the same brush. The glitchy AI minion was gone, but the original System hadn’t stopped the 365-day countdown. It still wasn’t giving them instructions; it was forcing them to guess whether it would come down from on high and beam another rule into their heads.

Logan was mad at the world, mad at everyone.

He was even mad that the snakes hadn’t shown up yet. There when you didn’t want them, missing in action when you did.

“Do you see those buggers anywhere?” he asked.

Ernie peered over his shoulder. “Evolved snakes! Their mating dance progressed from the water to the sky!”

Huh?

Logan followed Ernie’s gaze. Up above Rattlesnake Island, a swarm of snakes dived back and forth, brushing sides, twisting around each other like a flock of birds in a murmuration swarm. The snakes’ scales glinted green, looking dull but only because of the smog. Logan suspected that in full sunlight, they’d be sparkling like a rainbow.

They now had five wings—two on each side and a long tail feather like illustrations he’d seen of Chinese dragons. They were so many that they were soon filling the sky, casting a shadow on the whole island. More poured in from the sides, speeding through the air and then slamming into the swarm.

Three snakes broke away, fighting over a larger female, blood spraying as they tore into each other, their ten-inch fangs glinting with green blood.

Ernie was right. They had evolved.

[Flying Hunting Snake Level 59. A snake that has evolved from a rodent hunter to a freshwater hunting master. Their amphibian wings let them glide over water and snatch prey before diving deep for a further snack.]

[Highest Stat: Agility. Characteristics: Rabid, dominated by mating hormones. Hidden name: N/A.]

Logan’s rage burned even hotter. While he’d been struggling, forced to endure insects chewing his flesh, fighting for his life, these buggers had been having the time of their life humping each other and going at it like rabbits.

“What’s our strategy?” said Ernie, looking up at the swarm with wide eyes.

“No strategy,” said Logan, continuing to walk towards the island. When he was close enough, he used the Pink Sock to launch onto the rocky shore and then quickly jumped up to the top onto the flat ground. The Rattlesnake grass rustled and brushed against his armour-clad legs.

“…No strategy?”

“No.” Logan looked up at the sky. Raising his voice, he yelled, “Hey fuckers! Down here! It’s your favorite meal!”

One of the snakes glanced down at Logan, followed by another and another.

Ding!

[Eager Beaver title in effect! This title earns you the enmity of all snakes and causes them to attack you on sight.]

<------Go to chapter 6.