(TPOR) Chapter 94: A Diseased Mare (Patreon)

“You want us to take this route?” Abed asked in disbelief.

Zed nodded. “Yes.”

“Impossible,” Abed scoffed. “It’s not a reasonable decision to make.”

“Why?” Ven asked.

“Because look at him,” Abed gestured at Zed as if displaying a diseased mare. “he’s just a Beta mage, and a child. You can’t possibly tell me we’re going to listen to him.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“He doesn’t have the tactical experience you have or the magical experience any of the mages here have to be giving any kind of directions. He’ll get us killed.”

Zed couldn’t necessarily argue with Abed, but it didn’t change the fact that the path of the fallen trees was their best choice, their safest choice.

On this he trusted his instinct. And while he was young, he knew his decision was born out of the experience of the institute’s teachings. There was more to it. Whatever the institute had planned for him and his friends by slipping them into one dreamscape or the other, it had given him a certain level of instinct, honed in a world of dreams.

His knowledge wasn’t all that had brought him to his conclusion, there was more to it. An army vet’s instinct honed over years of survival had played a part, so had a soldier unwilling to watch his comrades die. But most terrifying was the fact that The Berserker had played his part.

And as much as he didn’t want to be The Berserker, he wasn’t so blinded that he turned his mind away from the fact that he could trust the monster’s decision.

Whatever the institute had in mind for us by sending us to the dreamscape, I really hope this wasn’t it, he thought. I really hope they weren’t trying to make monsters of us.

He hadn’t been the only one to be drafted into the dreamscape for The Berserker or the others even if he’d developed a certain cognitive dissonance from it. Thus, if there were others, and more dreamscapes had been drafted, he could only imagine what the outcome was.

Experienced soldiers with the cunning and brutality of The Berserker. And more.

It was insane to think they’d been putting such experiences in children.

Ven spoke again, answering Abed’s discomfort. His head remained bowed, attention on the hologram of fallen trees. He’d zoomed in at one point and was studying the path, and judging from the way the other Olympians had their attention on it, gesturing and posturing, Zed knew they were communicating. Judging his idea.

“It’s the safest route,” Ven said.

“Impossible!” Abed declared.

Daniel’s monstrous armor shook its head. “Say what you will, Abed, but the boy is right. It might increase the time it will take us to get to the surge but it’s the safest route. It ensures the least amount of casualties.”

“Apart from what happened here, we’ve had no casualties so far.”

“Because most of what we’ve faced were Beta ranks. Beyond this point, so close to the surge, we can expect to see enough Rukhs. It will cost us to ignore safety for speed.”

“I still say the kid is wrong.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t have the experience or basic knowledge.”

“Then what about us?” Kid asked. “We just went through the idea and found it solid. Would you say we’re wrong, too?”

Abed scowled, an answer on his lips he was unwilling to utter.

Big Man Desolate barked a hearty laugh.

“He’s got you there, Abed,” he said. “Go on, oppose them. This should be more than fun.”

Abed shot Big Man Desolate a dirty look but said nothing more. Whatever this conversation was about, he’d lost his hold over it.

“Now that that’s settled,” Ven said, the map disappearing. “I say we move. The earlier the better. And as has been previously agreed upon by everyone here, upon our successful unity I will now be taking command.”

The disc that had been projecting the map shot up from the grass and into his hand. He pocketed it in the compartment he’d extracted it from previously and turned in the direction of the forest that would lead them on the path they had chosen.

“When things fail, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Abed said.

“Then feel free to take the path you like,” Ronda told him, following Ven.

The others followed behind and Abed bore a brief moment of hesitation before joining them.

………………………….

The walk through the forest was a tense one. Each member of the party moved with a skepticism and a touch of worry, heads on a swivel as they waited for one monster or the other to burst out from behind one tree or the other. They walked flanked on both sides by elevated grounds as if through a valley between two mountains. A colorful valley between two colorful and glowing mountains.

Ven took point, a seven feet tall armor of technology and magic striding confidently, at the tail of the party Daniel was a walking menace, a machine of daunting size protecting their rare.

At the centre, the chaos of different mages and one human walked quietly.

“I say we delegate a mage to protect those that can’t protect themselves,” Abed suggested after a while. “I don’t think it is wise to—”

“Shanine will be fine,” Big Man Desolate cut him off, suddenly standing beside Shanine. He turned to her with a smile. “Your name is Shanine, right?”

Shanine nodded, inching closer to where Zed walked with a thoughtful expression.

Big Man Desolate nodded. “Good.”

Abed’s expression morphed into a deeper scowl than it already was but no one attended him. The powers of Hillview cared nothing for his silent tantrum, and the others were too busy making sure a random surprise didn’t take their life.

Zed’s mind crawled with the countless possibilities of a new goal. His return to the California R and D compound was uncontested. It was a decision written in stone as deeply as the religious’ faith was rooted in their deities. What had him thoughtful, however, was how to get there.

The slipspace effect had moved the world around and there was no existent mathematical equation that depicted or deciphered a pattern in the world’s shuffle. What did exist, was a new map of the world or at least the continent he stood on. If the institute was still on this continent, he’d need to have a map to find it. With enough mana stones, purchasing it was going to be easy. The only problem was finding a trusted seller.

He turned to his side, ready to ask Oliver if he had any idea where he could find a seller and paused.

Standing beside him, staring down with a steel face with neither eyes, nose nor mouth was Ronda. Her once sleek armor was a rondo of scars and blood, and while he was certain she was unharmed inside it, the horror on her armor still hurt to look at.

Imagine if she didn’t have it on.

“You’re different,” Ronda said.

“So are you,” Zed returned, remembering the lady in red that had flirted with him at Abed’s little soiree before the chaos. Whatever happened to those guys with the guns, by the way?

Ronda shook her head. “I’m not different. I’m still the same.”

“So the fun lady I met with the nice smile and the sprinkle of flirtation is the one inside that armor?”

“What makes you think I’m the girl you met?” she asked. “I may simply have the same name she did.”

“If that’s true, then we’ve never met. And if we’ve never met before, you wouldn’t be qualified to tell me I’m different.”

There was a stretch of silence where Ronda digested the logic of his words before letting out a chuckle.

“Okay, that’s fair,” she admitted.

“So what was that all about?” Zed asked. “Was it my hair? I’ve heard the rumors about the VHF and red hair and I must admit it’s kind of hard to trust what you guys are going to try and do with me once this whole thing is over.”

“Don’t worry. We have no interest in you. We are interested in natural redheads not those walking around with wigs.”

“Oh,” Zed winced, remembering their conversation at the party. “Yeah.”

They walked on in relative silence, Ronda like most of her team, occasionally sparing glances at trees monsters could possibly be lurking behind, which were a lot.

“What’s the red hair thing even about?” Zed asked, drawing her attention back to him.

“What?”

“The red hair thing,” Zed clarified. “Why do you guys want them so badly?”

Ronda shrugged. On an armored soldier the action was daunting.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” she said. “One of our high ranking officers simply gave a command one day after rising to considerable power and now we follow it.”

“A command?” Zed frowned. “Just like that?”

“We’re a militaristic group,” Ronda explained, her attention suddenly settling on a tree so that her remaining words came out slowly. “We get commands and we obey them. There’s really no argument to it.”

“You don’t even try to think on if it’s good or bad?”

“Soldiers aren’t employed to think. The luxury is for those of specific ranks which I am not a part of. My duty is to get a command and execute it to the best of my abilities.”

“Even if it’s kidnapping?”

Ronda’s attention moved from the tree so that she looked at Zed. At least he hoped the front of her head facing him meant she was looking at him.

“You only know rumors, and the rumors make it sound bad,” she said. “I agree we have often been known to kidnap redheads, but they are not gone forever. We take them back to headquarters, have them meet the officer who gave the command, and that is all.”

“And once he’s done doing whatever he does, what next?”

“We give them two options. Join the VHF or return home. It would surprise you to know how many of them choose to stay. We are not monsters, Ned. We are warriors.”

Chris shouldered past them, bumping only into Zed.

“Don’t let her devotion to her words fool you, Bloodbath,” Chris said, scowling at Ronda, her massive club rested on her shoulder. “They’re nothing but metallic monsters with neither a heart nor a soul. It’s the way they are trained; to be heartless. Whatever they were before joining the VHF they became less the moment they were qualified to step into that armor.”

“Like you?” Zed quipped with an impish smile.

Chris frowned.

“That’s a lot of hate for a girl out in the middle of nowhere,” Ronda pointed out. “Or am I missing something?”

“Why don’t you look up my name in that database of yours and find out?” Chris mocked.

“And your name is?” Ronda asked, indulging her.

“Chris,” Chris answered. “Chris fuck you.”

Ronda nodded before taking her attention away from Chris. “Cute.”

Zed looked between the both of them. Chris had always hated the VHF for as long as he’d known her but Ronda was right. Her hate was deep. It was the kind born of a self-righteous indignation or a great slight done to her.

I wonder what they did to her.

Then again, wondering what they did to Chris would mean wondering what they did to Heimdall and Ivan. They had a similar hate, after all.

“You might rival a Rukh right now,” Chris said. “Maybe even a Bishop, but I know what you are, tin can. Step out of that suit and see if you can look down on me so confidently.”

Ronda’s gaze never left the new tree she stared at and she said nothing to Chris. She was silent and it was eerie.

The scowl on Chris’ face turned to something more apprehensive, thoughtful. She turned her attention to the front and looked at Kid.

Zed followed her gaze, and while he found Kid still walking, he noted the Olympian stared at a tree in the distance, silent as the dead.

Around them the mages exchanged the barest words while Big Man Desolate whistled away as he walked and Ash slipped worried glances at Oliver. There was something there between the siblings but Zed had a feeling it could wait.

The Olympians seemed a more important curiosity.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked suddenly, smacking the forearm of Ronda’s armor.

Ronda moved the arm out of her reach, her other hand resting on the assault rifle that stayed glued to one thigh.

Chris turned away from her almost immediately, letting her club drop from her shoulder. It hit the ground with a loud thud that drew the attention of Francis and a few others.

Zed turned to her, taking his eyes from Kid.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper.

“Stealth types,” she answered, her voice low but loud enough to reach beyond just the both of them.

“Stealth ty—” Zed’s words died on his lips as memories of a rainy forest and monsters without auras slipped into his mind. When he spoke again, it wasn’t a question. “Stealth types.”

His mind pulled up a force rune almost immediately and his fingers twitched. He channeled his core, spreading his mana through his channels.

“Careful, bloodbath,” Chris told him. “You don’t have your axe right now. Fighting might not be your forte.”

“Tomahawk,” he corrected her. His mind whispered back to a broken axe and a won battle. “And I don’t need one.”

Chris gave him an apprehensive look but said nothing as the others slowly converged on them.

“Did I hear you say stealth type,” Oliver said, voice low.

Zed nodded.

“I hate stealth types,” Ash groaned as they proceeded forward, their pace slower now.

Judging by how slow everyone’s steps grew, it was safe to assume they weren’t the only ones to notice.

“What’s a stealth type?” Shanine asked.

“I monster we can’t sense,” Ash explained absently.

“Sorry,” Zed said, watching as the other mages grew alert, “but is there a way to catch stealth types? I ran into one at some point and I couldn’t sense them and everyone seems to be aware of them suddenly.”

“None that we’re aware of,” Jason answered. “They are stealth types for the fact that if they’re not fighting, they’re auras are practically nowhere. They have the best aura masking skill of anything alive.”

“And they’re the basis on which mages created our own aura masking,” Chris said.

“Wasn’t it the VHF that discovered aura masking?” Oliver asked.

“They were,” Chris answered. “And that’s where they got the idea from.”

Zed looked from tree to tree. “Am I the only one beginning to wonder how she knows so much VHF information?” he muttered.

“Yes,” Chris answered, her tone final.

Zed nodded. “Noted.”

“Have I ever told you guys how impatient I tend to be?” Big Man Desolate asked.

“No,” Abed scowled.

“Don’t you dare!” Madam Shaggy warned.

Big Man Desolate cackled like the mad.

“Where’s the fun in a snail’s pace when our enemies are just begging for our attention,” he said, then jumped out of the gathering.

He shot through the air like a thrown rock, if it was thrown by one of the Olympians, and landed on one of the trees on one side of them.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang. “We’re getting bored of having to—”

A monster dashed out of nowhere, snatching him from the tree in a massive bite, zipping away almost immediately. In the wake of its exit, Big Man Desolate’s scream was an exit echo.

Zed paused.

“Was that a laugh or a scream?” he asked, confused.

Ronda’s assault rifle left her thigh and she raised it with an inhuman accuracy and pulled the trigger.

It boomed with the chaotic sound of every gunshot and three bursts of light left the barrel as a monster dived out from behind a tree.

All three shots hit the creature in the side, throwing it off its trajectory.

“Nice shot,” Oliver complimented her, ambient mana drawing to him as he mouthed a spellform.

As if triggered by his activation of magic, countless screeches filled the air, and all hell let loose.

New Quest: [The Beginning After the End]

You have drawn closer to where you once started after your end, what’s left of it, at least. You have drawn closer to the mana surge but enemies stand in your way, survive the enemies and find out what has become of the surge.

· Objective: Find [Mana surge] 0/1.

· Reward: [Pocket memory (I care?)].

· Bonus objective: Defeat Beta rank [Mana beast] 0/9.

· Reward: +200 [Exp].

· You have 1 pending Quest.

Zed’s mind calculated the amount of Exp [Conqueror’s touch] would grant him from nine more monsters and knew category three stood right in front of him as monsters stepped out from behind trees flanking them.

They walked in varieties. Snakes wide enough to curl about one the massive trees thrice upon three times, Spiders with more legs than an arachnid had any right to have. Two trolls armed with nothing but their size and their strengths. But most of them were wolves with manes that fell down their necks like locks of hair wet with water.

They triggered a memory Zed didn’t like and fear kindled within him. In a cold control of instincts born of experience from the dreamscape of The Berserker, he refused to allow fear hold him. So he burned it for something more familiar: Anger.

Beside him, in a terrified voice, he heard Shanine say something absurd.

“Is he snarling?”