Alpha Physics! Book 3 - Disquiet: A Post Apocalypse Progression Fantasy, page 28
He slowed down.
His body was fighting him. There were no images encouraging him to continue. Sinking onto the ground and looking back the way he had come, they were clustered about six hundred metres away. He stopped and considered things. His mana pool was fully recharged, so the desperate stumbling run must have been for over ten minutes.
Finally. He pounced on it: Lay of Hands. Relief washed through him, coaxing his ribs back into position. Ambusher’s Fade froze his pained yelp before it even escaped him.
There were signs of wire fences between him and the pack of animals that were chasing him. It was a mystery how he had gotten past them. He dimly remembered jumping once or twice and biting his tongue to stop the cry whenever he had landed.
The interface filled him with a warm, soft glow that seemed to say, “You did good.”
Chapter 51
There was a click in his leg and then, thankfully, the pain diminished. Obviously, he had kept damaging the bones quicker than his regeneration had been able to heal them.
The shintopurs were abandoning the hunt, turning around and going back the way they came. Once more, the relationship between sapient, animal, and military decision-making. Giving up the chase was the right move, though neither of the first categories would have done so. In the Alpha physics world, if anyone failed to catch up to a wounded beast quickly, there was no point continuing. Their wounds would heal, and they would get faster the longer the hunt continued.
He drank another health potion promptly. He could feel his ribs still knitting back together and his broken arm mending. After the run, it was easy enough to sit in silence.
Maybe he should have taken the potions earlier in the desperate flight, but just running and staying on his feet was almost too much. Trying to grab and drink a potion on the run might have been distracting enough to be fatal on its own.
Another close one.
Standing, his personal kill count was now at eleven. He had not even done his share yet, let alone extra to cover for the others. Jules with her club could barely hurt these things.
It was a shame that he’d had to abandon his spear. If it were still available, he would sink fifty mana into it to prepare for the coming fight. Even fifty mana would have recharged by the time he got back to the complex. Lay of Hands’ healing energy swept through him and kept easing aches and pains.
A motivational monologue blared in his head: “You are alive. There are eleven of them who are not. Everyone who dies makes them weaker, and by the time the next fight starts, it will be like they never hurt you.” Indeed, the shintopurs retreated in a four-legged run, and in doing so went from being the hunters to the hunted.
He popped up and jogged after them, confidence restored. There were no broken bones to worry him, and he had no need to follow a track. The shintopurs picked up the pace and steadily increased the distance between them. It did not matter; it was still early in the night and there would be plenty of time to catch up and attack. Plus, he obviously knew where they were going.
They were speeding up, and he could barely stop the gap growing wider. How had the interface kept him ahead of them with his broken bones and protesting muscles?
When they reached the dairy farm, they were over a kilometre away and he could perceive them as little more than tiny, moving shadows in the distance. Nothing to do but get closer. His mates were there.
He bit his cheek and picked up his speed. Then reconsidered. It was pointless. There was absolutely nothing he could do to influence any battle that his friends may or may not be involved in. He had too much ground to cover to make a difference, plus the plan was always for them to fight by themselves. Still, the images of them fighting and failing had him more sprinting than jogging.
A short moment later, he stumbled over the group of three that he had killed. Two burnt skulls stared back at him in permanent agony, but the third was serene, like a baby. That one, the one he had identified as the party leader, had been stripped of all its armour, including its helmet. There was time for tinkering. According to the plan, his four team members should be locked safely in a defensible position. An extra minute would not matter.
Featureless, ovular yellow eyeballs stared up at the sky. Orbs set in a face that was more cat than monkey before going into a thick neck that spilled maroon blood from a hole, courtesy of his spear thrust. The body was covered in light grey fur with a distinct purple tinge. Colours through night vision might be distorted, but not by much. It was pretty, though still alien by human standards. He visually assessed the rest of the animals. Lots of bulging muscles with a skeletal structure that most closely resembled that of a silverback gorilla. The muscles in the forearms reminded Adrian of the fictional character Popeye. They were probably so huge to provide extra flexibility and power when finely controlling weapons. Their bodies were also designed to be more upright than a gorilla’s, with a shorter torso and long, thick legs. The pelt, when he touched it, was deceptively soft. Something told him it would sell for a lot, but the thought of skinning the animal made him feel sick. Not that he had the time, regardless.
Adrian looked up at the farmstead that all the shintopurs had disappeared into. No movement. Searching the surrounding area with Magic Focus, he had reason to think that maybe they had thrown the spear away. If they did, their arms were stronger than his sight, as his vision revealed nothing.
The poor creatures. He looked back at the leader. In death, the power had drained out of it except for the core. It sat in the chest, under skin and bone, glowing brightly.
A throb of excitement from the interface.
Shintopur cores were apparently valuable. Of course, if they were anything like a normal core, they would give a reflection of the creature's life or the knowledge that was passed from adult to child. The information would cover either weapon training or military tactics. They fought at an advanced level, possibly even expert level, and it was likely their knowledge would be available to Adrian and the team. Enough cores would massively improve their fighting skills.
Pathway of Intelligence - 94% (+ 14%)
Pathway of Intelligence - 95% (+ 1%)
A wry smile appeared, perhaps the first one since he first bounded over to the shintopur encampment in the first place. Once he completed that pathway, it was going to be a shame to lose that instant validation when his random speculation hit a truth. The latest ding was only worth 1%, but he had been testing the truth of a number of statements for a significant period as he tracked them back, hence the unfortunate use of fourteen percent of the path. The worse bit was that there had been no particularly earth shattering insights.
The dead shintopur looked so peaceful, but loot was loot. He cut the core out. It was sticky and disgusting, but the thrum from the interface reminded him how worthwhile his digging was.
They are not sapient. He reminded himself of that fact repeatedly as he worked.
Eight cores later, the interface was like a cat purring on a theoretical lap.
Time to brave the farmstead and finish the job. His butchering had barely delayed him, thanks to his quick and ungraceful work.
Chapter 52
They had to be all right. He could not imagine how badly he would fall to pieces if they were dead because of his delay. Logically, his reasonings were sound. Almost an hour must have passed while he skirmished and then ran from the large group of warriors that had tried to trap him. If his mates were still alive at the end of that hour, they would be dug in safely somewhere. The extra minute he had spent here would be unlikely to make a difference.
He still gnawed the inside of his cheek anxiously.
The first row of trees was only one hundred metres ahead, which was almost close enough for Magic Focus to work. Distant grunting mixed with the occasional high-pitched whine reached him. There was movement on the northern side of the complex. He ran a little ways toward it to get a better look. About seventy shintopurs were on the move. Most of them were children ranging from tiny to two-thirds of the size of the adults. None of these carried weapons nor armour, and the grunting was to keep them in formation.
Thirteen adults were escorting. They were retreating, transporting their young to safety.
A feeling of annoyance from the interface abruptly tapered his joy.
Adrian reconsidered his position. If a civilian base was under attack, the soldiers would evacuate the non-combatants before fighting. This retreat was just an errand, not an admission of defeat.
The expected Intelligence uptick never came.
Without letting his guard down, he carefully approached the complex. At eighty metres away, he paused to make sure there were no enemies on sentry duty. He had bet with himself that the parade of juveniles would require all their attention instead, but then again, they were disciplined and crafty. Normal vision showed no sentries, but Magic Focus detected one shintopur tucked behind a tree that protected it from most angles.
Cross-referencing with dark sight, a bush was in the way, and he could see no details regarding the enemy beyond it.
Jodga Berry Bush
A bush with sharp, medium-size thorns that carry a slightly paralytic poison and a powerful numbing agent. Jodga berries are bright orange, an ideal substance for permanent dyes. Some species also use the berry as a potent hallucinogen.
Not very useful information, but the branches looked thin, and one of the regional or gathering knowledge bases provided an image of harvesting from the bush. The branches were easy to bend or cut. Despite the outward presentation of dense leaves, the plant was very fragile and contained little mass that could stop an arrow. It was great camouflage but offered no further protection.
Adrian aimed at the head—at least, where he thought it would be—and pumped all the earth magic that he could into the arrow. It would be eight times heavier on impact. There was no point including air magic, as he could not control the flight through the bush anyway.
Thawk!
Shadow Step.
No response and no movement from the creature. He must have hit it, but it had not reacted. He hesitantly prepared another arrow, wondering if he should change tactics.
Adrian glanced sideways at the area he had just vacated, half-expecting it to be peppered with projectiles. Nothing happened. Then the shintopur hidden behind the bush collapsed with the life flooding out of it.
Kill shot.
Creeping forward curiously, Adrian tried to run the numbers in his head: eleven confirmed kills and one possible kill.
Thirteen adults had left the complex with the youths. Initially they had estimated at least thirty total adults, but based on the aggressive counter against him, there were probably closer to forty. Where did that leave things? Thirteen escorting, eleven dead which meant twenty-four were accounted for. If their estimates were right, there would be between six and sixteen left on the farm minus however many the others had taken out.
There was not enough information to form a sensible conclusion after all. There might have even been fifty initially. The only choice was to move cautiously forward and hope his friends were alive.
A simple wire fence separated the densely packed central dairy farm hub from the surrounding fields. Going around was not an option—somehow, this fence was still intact for a hundred metres in either direction. He could either go through or over.
With his extra Strength, he jumped over the fence, using a single hand on a post to help the vault and landing heavily. Maybe he could buy a potion to address his Agility problem.
Shadow Step.
He froze right next to an enormous tree as Ambusher’s Fade went to work. It had only been a little noise, but he did not know how sensitive their ears were.
Kozzie’s words were ringing in his head about how they hide and then attack from the blind spot. They could be around any corner just waiting. Unfortunately, they had both the patience and discipline to wait however long it took. They could hold still for days, and they were only a couple of hours into the fight.
They have no defence against Magic Focus.
The shintopurs had not developed the camouflage tricks that ambusher predators possessed. They glowed in Magic Focus. When Adrian scanned the area around him, none of the dense energy that represented the larger humanoids appeared nearby. No arrows slammed through where Adrian had landed.
Sneaking forward, he paused regularly to peer around corners. A slight detour to examine the shintopur he had just killed. The arrow had gone through its neck, but it was the second arrow that had hit it. This was the same creature he had hit earlier in the night, knocking it from the tree. It was already near death, which explained why his blind shot had killed it so easily. For a moment, his ego deflated, realising his arrow shot wasn’t necessarily so brilliant. A kill was a kill, nonetheless.
Adrian approached a shed, wishing that he had one of those mirrors that Seal teams used to look around corners without exposing themselves to gunfire.
He was breathing fast, even though his task of quietly investigating the empty area required little exertion. His heart still raced with anxious anticipation. He did his best to control the staccato breaths. How did the commandos do this?
When commandos cleared buildings in the movies, they would check every room before moving on. That is what he had to do. Peering around the corner. A quick flick of his head. Nothing. Lowering to a crouch and looking again from a lower vantage in case someone had an arrow aimed at head height. Still, he only looked around for a split second, heart racing.
It was clear. Adrian stepped fully around, no arrows whistling towards him. His scouting was right. There was still a lot to do. This stretch of shed was about six metres long. He peeked from a crouch again at the next corner. Nothing threatening.
Several cylindrical hay bales piled on top of each other. Each one was almost the height of his body, and they were stacked four high up to the rafters. A hay shed. A massive hay shed. Six deep, four high, twelve long with a gap in the middle.
Chapter 53
There was no choice but to explore the structure fully. There were too many hiding spots for the shintopurs.
A small part of him wanted to use flames. He had killed one scout getting in, so they probably knew he was here. The thought of pointless destruction still made him sick, and this hay store would help the town if they could ever claim it. Plus, he was not sure his magic would light the whole shed on fire, and it would be like lighting a beacon to any of the monsters nearby. All in all, it was a stupid idea.
The bales were so tight together that he could not squeeze past them on the ground level. Looking around at the centre, he spotted an arrangement of staggered bales that could act as steps.
Step, step.
The Shadow Steps were ostensibly wasteful, but they were the quietest option. With two Shadow Steps, he reached the rafters with the grace and stealth of a cat on the hunt.
The hay was packed firmly within the bales, so ambusher skills muffled his footfalls. The silencing effect was weird and magical and one of those pleasant Alpha physics surprises. It was enthralling just to watch: there was a flare of the energy imbued with air, water, and earth manipulation upon every step. Just a tiny flicker of power, but that was enough to silence all the residual sounds of each step, providing there were no major mistakes.
Adrian moved across the bales and looked down over each edge to ensure that nothing was hiding. If they had created a true cubby hole—a column in the centre of a hay bale—then he probably would not notice it. But it had only been a month since they settled here, and he doubted that such a peripheral project would have been a strategic priority. If enemies had ever penetrated this far, then it was probably already too late.
He jumped down a level. A couple more spots to check and the shed would be clear. Smoothly moving around a corner, bright light flooded his Magic Focus vision.
His heart leapt, muscles clenching.
Before he could even move, he was completely immersed in an image from the interface. Time stopped. It was a scientific observation room. Generously sized, all white, empty and with shiny two-way mirrors on one wall. A single baby, about eight months old, appeared bawling hysterically on the floor in only a white-cloth nappy. It was probably cold. His instinct to distrust the interface kicked in. Glancing curiously around, there were no clues to help him. The baby’s screaming intensified, making Adrian’s teeth grate.
Finally, he reorganised his thoughts, remembering the flash in his Magic Focus vision that had occurred just a moment ago. He started to decode the haunting scene from the interface. The kid continued to cry. He wanted to shut it up, but there was truly nothing in the room, let alone a toy or a pacifier. Was there a clue in that?
His pulse quickened as he remembered where he stood in the shed. He was dissociated, watching the slow-motion scene unfold through a sheer curtain. There had been a shintopur hiding, and despite all those images imploring caution, he had still blundered into it, and it jumped at him. When the interface had brought him here, the axe had already been swinging, heading straight for his chest. Without preventive action, it would hit and probably cut him in half. This strange room was a chance to figure out a solution. An opportunity to think things through, despite that horrendous screaming. He shot an angry glare at the kid, only to have it stop crying and wink. He stumbled backwards in shock. By the time he got his balance, it was screaming once more, as if nothing had happened.
Actively tuning out the noise, he tried to concentrate on what he needed to do. The interface was buying him space to think and plan, which was a crazy-arse cheat when he thought about it. Stopping time to plan your fights was a legendary level of ability. What he could not understand was why he not been dumped in a nice tranquil setting where he could contemplate things. There was probably some mysterious rule that said if the interface is cheating it had to be an ass at the same time. That or the interface was just amusing itself.
