Vess had been down to undead San Diego before.
Many times actually on account of his class.
Though never through this specific entrance.
The passageways on the uppermost levels tended to copy the style of the buildings directly above them.
It was only as one went deeper did they deteriorate.
Tiles and painted walls gave way to bare earth and rocks, which gave way to more esoteric architecture.
Bone-covered walls, weeping floors of flesh and such.
He hadn’t ever gone deep enough for the worst of it.
Those areas of the spawn zone were Level 40 territory.
One day he’d be part of the squads tasked with periodically clearing those sections of bosses and true bosses lest the zones reach the point of critical mass and begin spewing undead topside.
Ironically, that was happening at that very moment, which it shouldn’t have been on account of the rangers sticking to their schedule.
He supposed that piece of information held the answer on how Dancessassin and Hungry-Hungry seemed to know where they were going.
Naturally, that information hadn’t been shared with him on account of his newbness.
They didn’t encounter any undead until they reached the Level 20 area.
It made sense to Vess since the 1 to 20 undead were on the streets above.
Rotting greater zombies came down the tunnel in a brisk shamble.
Hungry-Hungry met them at a walk and smashed the lot against the wall with the spiked surface of her shield.
The results reminded him of smeared pink cake frosting on his plate.
The huge woman had saved one of the big-bodied greater zombies.
Silently, she palmed its head and held it out toward him and Zayaan.
The teopixqui gestured toward him with a grandfatherly smile behind the clear faceplate.
Vess took a gem from a compartment at his waist.
It was part of the plan to save their spells and Skills for as long as possible.
Thus, the gem with a one time spell allowing him to connect with the zombie in the attempt to see if another death mage-type had their fingers deep in a naughty place they shouldn’t have.
All undead contained death-aspected mana.
It’s how they existed as moving, murdering things rather than remained decomposing corpses as nature intended.
Why they naturally sought to create more of it to consume via the murdering of living things.
The more complex, the more death mana.
He felt an intelligence for a split-second before it was suddenly severed.
A flash of… something in his mind. A picture of… it slipped from him like a faint dream upon waking.
“Breaking comms silence,” Dancessassin said. “You got something.”
He hesitated. Afraid of being wrong.
Monsignor laid a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Trust your training, ranger.”
So, he told them what he had gotten, inconclusive as it was.
Dancessassin turned to Zayaan next.
“My apologies, team leader. I did not venture into the restless dead.”
“If there was someone or something in there then they know we’re here,” Dancessassin said.
“Unless the severing the young ranger described was an automatic defense,” Zayaan continued. “Our death mages and priests are instructed to always maintain the ability to sever their connections to their minions in case the enemy seeks to harm them through it.”
Vess blinked in lengthy silence until he realized that Dancessassin was looking to him expectantly.
“Er… yeah, that sounds right. I’m more of a bone guy. Don’t really do minions. I mean, a lot of my spells are straight anti-undead. But, I did learn in my semester with Ms. Teacher that a wise necromancer does basically what Zayaan said. But it’d be better if they automated the process. Whether they build the feature into the spell or pick up a dedicated Skill. Cause, um, a stronger necromancer or undead-type monster, like a lich or something, could do some nasty stuff through a direct-linked minion.”
“Hungry, stay on route, but pick up the pace. Jog.” Dancessassin turned to him and Zayaan. “Next batch of undead are yours, don’t wait. You know what to do.”
They continued onward.
Pockets of undead thickened.
Vess itched to attack, but he had his role and he stuck to it.
Not that he would’ve added much to the fights.
Hungry-Hungry smashed the physical stuff, while Monsignor prayed the spiritual stuff into nothingness.
Each group they crushed brought them closer to zeroing in on what was becoming a clear target.
Disappointingly, he wasn’t the one that discovered their quarry was likely a high level necromancer.
“I am, say, 85% certain of it,” Zayaan said. “Both the nature of the individual that has turned all of these monsters into their minions and their direction.”
They had passed the Level 30 area.
Not much further to go until the Level 40 area and the end.
Vess regarded the section entrance and tried to keep a cool face.
Most of the others weren’t grossed out, so he didn’t want to look like a newb.
Olive shared a sympathetic grimace, which he returned cause it was Olive.
“Would’ve been nice if this place was like most of the other zones.”
“Gah!” Vess jumped.
Black Cat had appeared behind him, looming like a jungle panther.
So tall, yet so sneaky.
Vess rallied after a moment.
“It’s always been like this. Undead city doesn’t tell us who’s inside running it. It’s weird like that.”
“Yup. The larger, more ‘special’ zones don’t play by the rules. Fucking spires. Always got to make things harder.”
“Their only true rule is to create the greatest conflict and challenge,” Monsignor said. “Hence, conveniently making our task more difficult and more deadly.”
Paz, one of the werejaguars growled. “We waste time. Your maps say this section only has one other exit, correct?”
He nodded at the scary woman.
“Then we must move quicker on this hunt before our quarry flees deeper into more dangerous areas.”
“Hold on,” Black Cat said. “They might’ve already done that, which only helps us. This is about the safe limit for a necro in the Level 40 range to handle solo. Monsters on the deeper levels won’t be as easy as these scrubs for them to control.”
“The kitty cat is scared?” Paz grinned, revealing sharp canines.
“Control, sister,” Renaldo, the other werejaguar, said.
“Yeah, I’m not a moron. Jaguars are smart hunters. They have to be cause the whole point is surviving to the next hunt. Throwing themselves into it is a good way to get hurt. Injuries means they can’t hunt the next time they need to eat.” Black Cat shrugged.
“We aren’t animals,” Paz leered up at Black Cat.
“Next you’re going to suggest that you should run off ahead to cut off the other exit.”
“It is the correct tactical decision.”
“Not if you’re actually intending to go on your hunt.”
“We’re moving fast.” Dancessassin cut through the chatter.
She sounded annoyed.
Vess tried to project eagerness and confidence to show her that he had her back no matter what.
“Seal this entrance. Move straight to the other one and seal that if you two can guarantee that our target is in this zone. If not, we keep following their trail.”
Olive placed the shield generator on the floor, which squished and squelched with their steps, occasionally splattering their boots with oozing pink liquid as if they stepped on a fist-sized pimple.
He thanked his boots as she activated the translucent blue-white wall to seal the exit.
While she did that, Black Cat placed miniature turrets.
“It won’t stop them if they’re strong enough to be down here, but it will slow them down if they try to double back on us. Hopefully, enough for us to catch up.”
“Yeah, dude. Totally!” He gave thumbs up, which he realized as he did, was super lame.
He cringed internally as the hybrid patted him on the shoulder like an encouraging older brother.
Olive giggled.
Thankfully, his faceplate was obscuring enough that no one could see the heat on his face.
“Alright, Hungry.”
“How fast you want me to move?”
“As fast as our slowest.”
More internal cringe.
Did Dancessassin’s monster hood eyes flick to him when she said that?
It had to be either him or Zayaan.
And the old guy was spry enough for being grandpa age that Vess wasn’t sure.
He firmed his resolve to work toward picking up physical enhancement Skills or spells.
They were necessary if he wanted to be part of Quests like this one in the future.
Their run to the other exit was suspiciously unimpeded.
Olive and Black Cat sealed it up after he and Zayaan determined that their target hadn’t escaped the zone.
“If I were them and I had mastery of undead flesh I would remain ensconced within the walls while I sent my minions to do my bidding,” Zayaan mused. “Nevertheless. Now that we have run our quarry to ground. I believe the young ranger and I will be able to track them down shortly.”
Nice of the old man to pump him up like that, but he didn’t feel that same confidence.
Best he figured he could be was a distraction while the old man did most of the real work.
“We’ll set up a defense in Room 6. It’s the closest equidistant spot between the exits,” Dancessassin said.
Shit erupted as soon as him and the old man started their search in earnest.
He only caught the start because he really had to lose himself in the casting.
It was crazy standing still in a fight. Went against all his training, but he trusted Monsignor to keep him alive.
The jaguar knight did the same for Zayaan a short distance away.
Sickly points of green light surrounded him.
Ugly stars winked out everywhere only to replaced.
Gossamer strands stretched like sinew in a grisly web.
He raced along one strand, jumping to another and another as each was severed before he could travel far.
It was too fast.
He could barely keep up and worse he understood that they weren’t even focused on him.
In fact, he could feel the battle waged between the unknown enemy and Zayaan through the former’s many linking strands.
The old man had been right.
If Vess had been alone, the enemy would’ve hollowed him out or worse.
As it was, the teopixqui gave him time and an opening.
“I found her!” It was a her. He was sure. “Room 15!”
Which was—
Uh oh!
The boss room.
He turned to Zayaan with a smile.
Which fell off his face the instant he saw the old man on the wet, pulsating floor.
The inside of Zayaan’s faceplate was covered in slick, sticky crimson.
“Priest, please bless him. Don’t allow his spirit to be caged and his body to be stolen.” The jaguar knight slid over to take Monsignor’s place protecting Vess.
Monsignor raised her mace and prayed.
A warm yellow glow flowed from her heart down her arm, rattling the chain-like rosary securing her mace to her gauntlet.
“Nikola! How?” the jaguar warrior wailed. “Zayaan’s Level 45! There’s no way! He can’t be—”
“He is gone. And our enemy has revealed her strength. We will avenge him.”
Fleshy undead appendages erupted from the floor.
Hands and arms with more hands and arms emerging randomly across their taut, slick flesh grasped their legs and Zayaan’s body.
Nikola and Brylee lay about them with their macuahuitls and shields with quickness and accuracy such that Vess hadn’t needed to cast his spells.
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“He doesn’t belong to you!” Monsignor cast her shield aside to pull a large wooden cross out. “The brave shall not be sullied. His sacrifice shall not be in vain.”
Yellow light flared, burning the grasping limbs into ash.
“His soul is free. His body… he will remain untouched until we can carry him out after we finish our Quest.” Monsignor placed the glowing crucifix on Zayaan’s armored chest.
The tunnel leading to the boss room swelled with more undead.
Vess no longer needed to be deep in the flows of the death magic to see that.
“Hungry, we need to get there fast!” Dancessassin said.
“I’ll try, but that sort of mass is going to be tough to push through just based on the… you know… mass.”
They turned to Monsignor.
“I can clear the way, but it will leave me spent for what we face beyond.”
“I can do it!” Vess surprised himself. “I’m less important to the… er… stuff.”
“You’re our only remaining death magic specialist,” Dancessassin said. “I’ll allow it if you can remain an asset.”
Huh?
It sounded like she already knew what he was going to propose.
“I can do it!”
She nodded.
He grabbed his spellbook chained to his side.
It opened to the page he wanted.
Pages.
He had filled the maximum number of allowable pages with his best anti-undead spell in preparation for this moment.
The thing was he was under-leveled for the area.
Which meant his spells were less effective at base cast.
Even pouring more mana wouldn’t have made a big difference.
However, his semester at Ms. Teacher’s had opened his mind to the true intricacies of wizard spellcasting.
Namely, he could upcast past the danger point through his spellbook providing the extra mana needed and absorbing some of the backlash.
His spellbook’s pages stopped flipping.
He focused and lost himself in the magic.
The formula, the matrix, the feel.
The green glow seemed a distant thing as if viewed through a frosted window as the spell took hold of the mana within him.
Without the mana in the spellbook and the crystal around his neck it would’ve drained him to zero in that instant.
Instead, it crested like the waves he loved to surf, hanging at its highest point and waiting for his permission to crash upon the ocean surface.
“Breath of Thuzara the Soul Shepherd.”
He would’ve liked to be able to cast without saying the words like a truly powerful wizard, but alas, that was likely 15 levels away and many years of diligent practice.
Funnily enough, Ms. Teacher had known the creator of the spell.
An annoying ragamuffin that had risen to the heights of magic against all odds only to one day vanish under mysterious circumstances several hundred years ago.
Vess would’ve given the universal translation system the side eye for the weird word choice, except Ms. Teacher had been speaking fluent English.
Regardless, he was more interested in the fact that she had said that magic types, especially ancient and immortal ones, made a habit of mysteriously disappearing for decades and centuries at a time only to reappear in a variety of guises.
He figured that living centuries probably meant people got bored and wanted to re-invent themselves.
His dad was doing it for the whole mid-life crisis thing.
The green-tinged breath billowed out of his mouth to fill the room despite the fact that he had forgotten to open his faceplate.
The fleshy surfaces instantly dried and shriveled to dust as soon as the breath touched.
The undead enveloped did the same.
The stronger ones lasted longer as they suddenly turned on each other.
Spectral undead vanished into the mist never to be seen again.
“Hungry! Go!”
The huge woman roared at Dancessassin's urging and thundered down the tunnel, crushing what was left of the undead as the rest followed.
Nikola let out a war cry that filled them with renewed vigor.
The twin werejaguars, already fully transformed, roared vengeance for Zayaan as they bounded down the dark tunnel.
Vess’ lungs burned, but he kept exhaling the breath.
Upcast as it was, he figured he could cover most of the section while definitely filling the boss room.
Monsignor guarded his back.
“Can you run?”
He couldn’t speak, so he did the only thing he could and stumbled after the others.
Day 1
Dear Diary Journally,
It wasn’t a trap!!!
I was 50-50 on it being one. My worse case scenario was slavery on another world. Actually, that’s, like, 1B. 1A was being experimented on. I saw some of the documentation on what that eidolon did to those poor kids and yikes!!! That’s why I don’t do work on living subjects people.
Turns out Suiteonemiades was good for his word. He kept saying that, but you know how people that say you can trust them all the time are actually the ones you shouldn’t trust?
Anyways, for a demigod he acts like the jocks I hung out with in high school and college.
God!
I haven’t thought about those days in a long time.
Better days :(
Stop it, Cindy!
Anyways.
The reason I thought this was all some kind of trap was because he put me in a literal coffin.
He didn’t explain, well he did, but not enough to give me anything I might be able to use.
All he said was the material the coffin was made out of would keep my presence hidden from those guys.
It was weird. Basically, a coffin made out of dark stone-metal whatever with spider legs and some poor bastards brain in a jar.
Suiteonemiades’ society is kinda weird. Like an ancient Greece-punk or is that more ancient Roman-punk? Sigh… even if I had paid attention in school it was so long ago that I most definitely wouldn’t have remembered.
Anywho… my coffin had, like, clock-style gears and bronze? Brass? I don’t know what metal they are… legs.
I didn’t see any of the following, but obviously I got inside the undead spawn zone without getting caught by patrols or monsters.
After that it was easy to peak out of my coffin every few minutes to use my magic to keep the undead monsters from bugging me while I told the tiny brain in the jar where to go.
It felt like hours, but was probably only, like, one before I found a good spot to set up shop.
Suiteonemiades was right.
I just hid and waited for a squad to clear a section and leave.
That way I’d have time to work before they came back for their regularly scheduled clearing.
No undead meant I had plenty of uninterrupted time to place my loci all over the place and begin draining the death mana into my crystals.
The ones he gave me are so much better than the ones I can buy from the spires marketplace or make myself. Even the ones I’ve gotten from Quest rewards aren’t as good.
My home planet pride is hurt .·°?(ˉ□ˉ)?°·.
I got over it quick, though :P!!!
These crystals have way more capacity! Way less leakage! Plus they just feel way better to use!
How do I explain it to a non-mana loser?
It’s like the difference between drinking the booze in the locked case versus drinking the booze that comes in a plastic container. Like, I’m talking the 1.75L grocery store brand booze (×_×)
Okey dokey, Miss Journally, time to say goodnight.
The reset is coming up soon and I want to see if my draining the death mana in the area will affect it like the other encounter challenges and spawn zones I’ve used it on.
This place is like the Disney World of undead zones, so… wish me luck!
If I die horribly, then let it be known that my vengeful spirit shall curse my enemies… until I figure out how to steal a body or something.
I do have that bone body I’ve prepared… not the best, but better than using a random zombie, skeleton or whatever’s nearby.
I should probably get it out of my bag just in case.
Okay!
Good bye night for real this time!
See you tomorrow for sure!
Day 5
Dear Journally,
Thank God I picked up that Skill that makes the stench of death smell like crisp linens.
Fuck you, Donna, you catty bitch for getting on my case about it!
Hmm… I wonder if she’s still alive?
How long has it been?
2028 or 2029?
I think that was the year.
Wasn’t keeping track back then.
The party split in Denver… was it before or after the abominable snowdeermen spawn zone debacle?
Well, it wouldn’t have been a full debacle if they had let me use the bodies. It’s not like it mattered. The dead don’t care. They were dead and I didn’t have a spell to do anything with their ghosts at the time. Not that I would’ve done it anyways. They were my friends too… sigh…
Okay, got carried away.
Business before pleasure.
It’s going great!
My fingers are reaching (＾?＾)b
And it appears that the rangers and randos running around out there haven’t noticed a thing!!!
I’m grabbing so many minions, yay!!!
My loci and my gems are, like, this nearly perfect renewable source of death mana! I’m barely straining myself! All I have to do is just cast the spells!
Grabbing smart undead is only making it all the easier.
I even got a couple of liches under my command.
I am the Queen of the Undead!
Bwahahahaha!
I’m considering pushing lower to grab the more powerful undead all the way to the Level 40 section.
It’s a little galling, but even though I’m Level 50, Suiteonemiades strongly ‘suggested’ I avoid that area. Said that, even though I could solo it the risks of death and discovery were too great.
Mansplained it quite well… whatever.
I’ve got 30 days.
Maybe I’ll give it try when being discovered won’t matter.
I can’t take control of bosses cause the spires are the cheatingest cheaters, but those deep levels are filled with liches, undead lord-types and those pillars.
I’ve only ever seen one in action and I really want to try using it.
Imagine what I could do with it constantly regenerating my minions.
Problem is they’re stationary and fixed to the floor.
Which begs the question… how did they appear on the surface way back during the rangers’ war?
Can I try having flesh abominations or skeleton juggernauts ripping them out of the floor and carrying them?
Might liches and ghoul witches be able to levitate them?
Maybe I can create some kind of wagon out of meat and bone? Wrap it up in a burrito of undead, which would be constantly regenerated… my enemies are so ( ?╭╮? )
Hmmm… this requires heavy pondering.
Day 14
Dear Journally,
Experiments proceeding as planned.
Hiding of undead minions also proceeding as planned.
Enemy hasn’t shown any signs that they’ve noticed something is different.
I don’t know if that’s true, but I’ll take it.
I mean, they came by the other day to clear this section and they didn’t notice my loci sunk into the fleshy surfaces.
Same with my coffin.
It was a little boring waiting the whatever handful of hours it took for them to finish.
I’ve always wondered why all spawn zones aren’t the same.
Special ones or huge ones, they all have something in common, which is danger level… haha… ha.
Stupid spires won’t spill its secrets to me.
Me!
One of the highest leveled humans… Earth humans, I guess, since there are humans out there on other worlds.
I’m the necromancer!!!
The!!!
Whatever…
So, like, they left and I just got back to work.
I had to wait for reset to grab the zone’s undead, so work was mostly charging my empties and meditating to speed up my mana regen, which was crazy fast and easy since I’m, like, swimming in a city-sized pool of jello!
Day 19
Dear Journally,
Today I remained busy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I got put into this spot.
I think it started with that Slasher’s Spree thing.
I mean, the rewards were totally worth it since it set me up to climb that level ladder a lot faster.
I got strong enough to go take contracts with the government without worrying about being forced to do it. Like, I mean, they tried, but I just had to kill that colonel and a few soldiers ˉ\_(ツ)_/ˉ
Got me a lot of jobs! Tax and oath free!
The wendigo contract, that C.H.U.D problem in the New York subways.
Lots of rewards!
Only problem was the spree got me on some kind of shitlist… and I’m not talking about that lame spires bounty system.
Seriously, what the fuck is up with that?
At least they didn’t reveal my real identity.
Not that it helps when they put up a picture.
How many women out there with my class and level that look like me?
Can’t exactly pretend it’s not me if Mr. Tall, dark and handsome jackass flies out of the sky to punch my face in. Who the fuck calls himself ‘Relentless? Some dork neckbeard that watched too many of those lame superhero movies, that’s who. Not that I would turn down a hook up.
Honestly, though, some other rando sends me a message to turn myself in?
Why?
Like I trust all that bullshit about a ‘chance’ for rehabilitation and ‘amends’ to my ‘victims’. Fuck that! I was just doing what the world expected.
It’s that or be a victim myself.
Too many crazy killers out there and rapists, can’t forget the rapists.
And I’m not even talking about just the monsters.
Yeah, the writing is on the wall.
To many data points that tell me I should be getting the fuck out.
I’ve got a bounty.
The worse people are looking to collect.
Can’t trust the government… ever!!!
They’ll slap chains on me the first opportunity. They do love their slavery.
This pantheon of gods, though?
Probably the same.
The key is to be valuable enough that they won’t just end me, but not too valuable that they’d want to cage me like a favorite pet or something.
I still haven’t decided on a world.
Suiteonemiades better not be setting me up.
He passed all my truth spells and checks, but even he admitted that he was strong enough to beat them.
I mean, he also passed my questions using his own truth gem.
I guess I’d have to trust that wasn’t also a trick.
Damned both ways!
Ha!
I think, tomorrow I’ll cut my work short so I can really dive into that magic scroll he gave me.
Need to pick a world.
Bye!
Day 25
Less than a week till E-Day!
Good!
Been getting bored.
Reached critical mass with my minion converting, creating and seeding.
The rangers are definitely noticing something is up by now.
Can’t be helped.
Had to force some undead out on the street.
A packed zone down here would definitely be noticed.
Plus, some of the smarter undead were forming little gangs to fight over territory.
Fucking weird shit.
In other good news… I’ve picked my new homeworld!
Already have my magical passport!
I guess that’s why I decided to trust the demigod.
He gave it to me before I completed our contract.
I could’ve taken it and left instead of coming here.
Granted, that would’ve been stupid since he would’ve just sent a message telling his people on the other side to grab me or whatever.
It’s not like a paradise world or whatever.
That sort of place would probably frown on my class imposed restriction to murder a thinking being once a month.
I really need to find a way to remove my slasher class.
It’s a liability for what I want to do.
I’d rather delve into the depths of my necromancy.
That’s how I’ll level faster.
True understanding coupled with innovation.
I really hope his deal is good.
Instant citizenship and a position at any of the top magical universities.
That should give me the opportunities I need and the wealth to not have to worry about basic shit.
Anyways, I think I’ve interpreted the terms of our deal correctly so that I don’t have to fight to my death.
It’ll be enough to set things into motion and get out of here.
I’m going to keep the coffin and most of the myrmidons he gave me to sneak out of the city.
Once out, I just have to take a portal to the spire that’ll take me to my new, carefree life!
Viva la vida!
Literally, rejuvenation potions are starting to fail.
I need a longer term solution without any of the drawbacks.
Don’t want to turn myself into a lich, nor do I want to whore myself out for the really good rejuvenation magics.
It might be vain, but if I’m going to be immortal I want to at least be in my 30’s physically.
What’s the point if I have to live eternity as a 70 year old with bad hips and crippling arthritis? Or, like, I have to wear a painted mask of my youthful beauty to hide my withered crone face.
Until tomorrow, my silent friend!
