Darling of Fate: A LitRPG Apocalypse Adventure, page 27
“Let’s move!” Jerome ordered, his pistol back in his hand as he ran off.
They ran through the jungle at a decent jog, heading away from the incoming monkeys. Lacy noticed groups of people through the foliage, but they seemed even more disoriented than her own party. As they raced onward, the sounds of the approaching monkey horde only grew louder.
“Move!” Jerome called back, and everyone picked up their pace.
Mama G was huffing within minutes and Lacy reached out to grasp her hand. The older woman gave a brief nod and powered through, determination in her eyes.
Up ahead, the trees seemed to thin, and everyone let out a sigh of relief through ragged breaths. Mama G’s breathing was uneven and Amos sounded on the verge of a heart attack, but no one slowed as the horde of monkeys sounded nearly on top of them.
When Lacy broke from the tree line, her eyes went wide at what stood before them.
A sheer cliff loomed ahead, hundreds of feet high with dozens of ropes dangling down from above. On either side of her, people began breaking from the tree line, running for the ropes. Something collided with her back, sending a stinging pain through her spine. Glancing back, she saw hundreds of strange monkeys launching little projectiles toward them.
“Oh, shit!” she yelled, immediately running for the safety of the cliffs.
“Lacy! Wait—ow, fuck,” Byron cried out as a projectile clipped his shoulder.
“Run!” Jerome ordered, passing Lacy in only a few strides.
When the party had cleared the hundred feet to the bottom of the cliffs, Mama G and Amos were sucking in great, heaving breaths, while Jerome surveyed the ropes nearby.
Their rest was cut short as the projectiles from the monkeys crashed around them, pinging off the cliff and hitting the party.
“Up the ropes!” Jerome yelled.
“I can’t make that climb!” Mama G said. “Go without me, I’ll be fine!”
“No, ma’am! Climb on my back.” Jerome turned and went to his knees, lowering so the woman could wrap her arms around his neck.
“Boy, leave me, I said—”
“Stop wasting time and get on!” he ordered, cutting her off.
Reluctantly, she wrapped her body around him and he stood with a grunt.
“I may be right fucked,” Amos said wearily, his eyes tracking up to the top of the cliffs.
Jerome didn’t wait for the others and started climbing with Mama G on his back. Byron waved to get the others attention.
“Guys, I do this all the time. There’s a trick to it!” He went to the nearest available rope and hoped on. “Watch my feet. When you do this, it takes the weight of your hands.” He hooked under the rope with one foot, then stepped on top of the rope with his other, using his weight to clamp down. “Whenever you get tired, just do this and you can rest forever.”
A fresh wave of the monkey projectiles rained down and the whole group rushed to their ropes. Byron hopped off and let Amos go ahead of him, while Lacy went to a different rope and started climbing. Frank came up behind her.
She’d never considered herself strong. Before everything that had happened, she would have considered this climb impossible. But she was level 5 now and had saved all her stat points. Opening her Status Sheet, she added 4 points to Strength, bumping it up to 12. She felt an immediate change to her physique, her grips becoming easier, her arms pulling her up faster. She put another 4 points, then another. At 20 Strength, the climb became almost easy, the only limiting factor her own lack of technique. She had 4 more points and decided to allocate them all to Strength. Her class had indicated a primary attribute of Intelligence, but what good would that be if she fell to her death in the first twenty minutes?
She was three-fourths of the way up, the ease with which she pulled herself up intoxicating, before she realized a voice below was calling her name.
“Lacy! Wait up!”
She glanced down to see Frank fifty feet behind her, while Amos was only halfway, Byron bottlenecked behind the older man. Jerome with Mama G on his back was past the halfway mark, but visibly struggling as he climbed.
“I can project platforms,” she called back. “Let me get to the top and I can help!” At least, she thought she could. The limitations on her projection ability were nebulous, but she felt like she could make the final stretch easier at a bare minimum. Maybe I could even create a ladder, she mused.
As she was about to crest the top, she glanced back once more to see Jerome not far behind on his own rope, with Frank about twenty-five feet back on hers. Byron and Amos were still over a hundred feet down from her position.
A hand wrapped around her wrist and she almost let go in surprise. Someone was helping her? She turned back, the grip on her wrist uncomfortably tight. A leering grin stared back at her, facial tattoos marring a pale face.
“Let me help you there, little lady,” a familiar man said with a smirk.
“No! No!” Lacy bucked against the powerful grip, not caring if she threw herself completely off the cliff face.
Death was better than what awaited above.
“Jerome!” she screamed, even as another set of hands grabbed her other wrist.
“Lacy!” Frank shouted, his voice hoarse. “Get your fucking hands off her, you Nazi motherfuckers!”
“I’m coming, girl!” she heard Jerome’s deep voice call from a parallel rope.
She tried to place her feet against the cliffs, kick off and pull the two men holding her down to the ground below. But heightened Strength or not, she barely weighed a hundred pounds, and the two men dwarfed her in size. They hauled her over the edge with grunts of laughter.
“Damn, bitch. You’re strong!” one of the skinheads said.
She managed to rip an arm free, clawing at the man’s face. He shouted in anger, then punched her in the stomach. Crippling pain blossomed from her gut, her muscles failing to respond as her lungs struggled to pull in air.
“That nigger killed Badger,” a voice whispered in her ear. “You have him to thank for what comes next.”
They started dragging her away from the cliff, toward a cave entrance in the distance.
“Lacy!?” a familiar voice shouted, cutting through the pain. She glanced over to see Nikki cresting the cliff edge, her eyes wide with horror.
“Help,” she tried to say. But her lungs were empty and it came out as a gasp.
“Nothing we can do for her Nicole. Leave her.”
“Craig—”
“I said, leave her!”
The light from the sun faded as they dragged her into the dark tunnel. An angry voice cut through the skinheads’ chatter, igniting a spark of hope deep inside her heart.
“LACY!”
It was Jerome, finally reaching the top.
“We’ll deal with the niggers,” one of the skinheads said. “Save us a ride.”
The strength in her limbs was returning as she managed to catch her breath finally. She started pulling against the grips on her arms, her heightened Strength giving her a fighting chance, if nothing else. But despite it all, they were stronger. They dragged her further into the tunnel, but she made them work for every foot, bucking like a wild bronco.
Minutes passed and she continued to give them hell, even getting a finger deep into one of their eye sockets before another blow knocked the wind from her.
When she recovered, they must have traveled over a mile, all sounds of the fight behind them having faded entirely.
Suddenly, movement ahead caught the corner of her eye—a flash of crimson and a familiar figure. She noticed the eyes next, a terrible fury written in those eyes that brought to mind a vengeful angel.
Relief sapped the strength from her muscles and she sagged in the men’s arms.
They didn’t know it, but death had come for them. And her savior had come for her.
Dirk arrived like a specter of death.
Chapter 34
Lacy! I’m Home!
When I saw the moving moss light ahead, I drew my katana, a bloodlust filling my body like drug-induced mania. The image of Lacy’s bruised and half-naked corpse filled my mind as I raced ahead.
The vanguard of the skinheads came into view, two of them gripping Lacy by her arms. I was pleased to note that Lacy was putting up a hell of a fight, forcing the two men to fight with every ounce of their strength. They were slow to notice me in their distraction. Lacy, however, saw me approaching like a bat out of hell and her eyes went wide with shock.
Before the man on the left even recognized death approaching, my katana was skewered through his neck. He fell to the floor gurgling, arterial spray splashing across the tunnel as he futilely grasped at his neck. The shock of my arrival froze the second man and he fell a moment later, his hands still locked tight on Lacy’s arm as I severed both his wrists at the joint.
She let out a startled cry as the man fell to the ground without his hands, those grubby little mitts still clutching at her arm. I steadied her with one arm while I peeled away the severed hands gingerly.
“You’re okay, I got you,” I said softly once the phantom grips were gone. She collapsed against my chest, a wracking sob shaking her body. “Shhh, you’re safe now. It’s okay.”
She shook against me for another moment, then pulled away as she took in a deep breath. The terror she must have been feeling only highlighted her strength as her expression hardened.
“The others need you,” she said. Her voice was strong, determined, and my estimation of her went sky high. She knew what these men had almost done, and had managed to find her center within a handful of heartbeats.
I gave her a quick nod, then started to go. She stopped me with an outstretched hand.
“Dirk?”
“Yeah, Lacy?”
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, then pulled away abruptly, as if embarrassed. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I gave her a quick squeeze on the arm, then took off at a sprint. She would be safe there for the moment, so I put her from my mind and put my all into my foot speed.
It wasn’t more than a couple hundred feet before a new light appeared ahead. This light was much too bright to be the moss, and the blue light it cast had a heat to it that I could feel even from a distance. It flashed in waves, bright as the sun for a moment, then waning. When I finally came into view, there were two distinct battles going on.
Closest to me, Jerome was in a bloody melee with three of the skinheads. Blood coursed down his face and body as he struck out, his two shanks shining in the light of that blue fire. The three men facing him weren’t much better. One’s arm dangled uselessly as he retreated, while the others had various cuts seeping blood through their clothes.
Past Jerome, Frank and the man casting the blue flame faced off—ice smashing into fire. Three more of the skinheads protected the magic user’s flanks from Byron, Amos, and Mama G. Byron had his boombox on his shoulder, blasting some indistinct music that seemed to visibly wrap around Amos, Mama G, Frank, and even Amos’ pigeons. They moved strangely, and it was hard to tell if that was the blue flame casting them in a strange light, or if Byron’s ability was having some effect.
Either way, despite an obvious strength and skill disadvantage, my crew appeared to be holding their own. When the three skinheads tried to rush Byron, a half dozen pigeons swooped in preternaturally fast, drawing wounds that were outsized compared to what they should have been able to inflict. But when Amos’ pigeons tried to press the advantage, a blue fireball would lash out, forcing them back.
An impasse by all accounts—one I was about to shatter.
Jerome was in the most trouble, so I ran towards him and the three men. My katana took out the man with the injured arm, piercing through his back. He let out a soundless gasp, his lungs collapsing from the puncture. I quickly drew the blade out, then slashed down where his neck met his clavicle. The blade sheared through bone and flesh alike. The other two panicked at the sudden death of their friend, turning to guard against my blade. But Jerome’s shanks took one of the men in the kidney and his momentum drove forward, bringing him down on top of the dead skinhead, his blades still embedded deep. The last man tried to attack Jerome while he was down, but I slapped my Mantle out and caught his arm, yanking him towards me—
And directly into my katana.
“Gotdam, boy, it good to see you,” Jerome huffed as he crawled to his feet.
I started to make some pithy reply, when blue light flared exceptionally bright, and a cry of pain rang out through the tunnel. Across the way, Frank reeled back, half his body smoldering. I rushed past Jerome, pulling out a throwing knife even as I charged. With a subtle application of my friction, the throw flew true, piercing the flame caster in the throat. Despite the wound, the man managed to raise his hand, another fireball forming as he looked in my direction. With his dying breath, that forming fireball coalesced and raced towards me like a comet.
Shit!
I didn’t have much in the way of fire defense, but I flared my Mantle over me and threw myself to the floor. White-hot heat flashed over me, scorching me through the magical cloth. A wretched scream left my throat as my nerves were flash-seared with a pain almost as bad as when I was forcefully bonded with Lex. But the fight wasn’t over and the only thought echoing throughout my mind was: I will save them all. I will save them all…
But no matter how hard I tried, my limbs refused to move. My lungs burned from the superheated air, and my head felt light. With absolute willpower, I forced myself to my feet, my limbs shaking with unavoidable shock.
I looked around, trying to assess the ongoing fight. All I saw was the concerned looks of my party—all of them—staring back at me like they were looking at a ghost.
Oh, everyone’s safe, then.
My mind immediately flipped a switch, fucking off and pushing me into unconsciousness.
When awareness returned, it came in like a trickling stream, the suggestion of thoughts rather than anything coherent. My vision was dark and for a moment I imagined I was staring into the void in between redos. But there was no blue box floating before me, and a flicker of light flashed briefly, confirming that I wasn’t, in fact, dead.
Lifting my eyelids felt like setting a personal best barbell press and a groan sounded as I pushed—my own voice, though it sounded strange to my ears. But no matter how hard I fought, my left eyelid was gummed shut and my right had trouble piercing the dark. Movement sounded beside me, and a green light suddenly filled the space.
“He’s awake!” Byron’s overly loud voice called out beside me.
“Gah…” I tried to speak, but my lungs felt shriveled. As I tried to draw in a breath, I felt a burning hollowness rather than sweet, clean air.
“Don’t speak, Dirk.” Another voice now, much less abrasive. It was Lacy, I realized distantly. My mind was moving like molasses. “You’re badly burned. You—” She cut off.
Badly burned? Nothing a [Heaven’s Delight] couldn’t fix, I wondered.
But then I remembered what had happened. Frank had been scorched too, and they must have used it on him instead of me. I didn’t have the strength or inclination to feel some type of way about that—it was the choice I would have made too.
I tried to draw in another breath, but it filled my lungs more like a wheeze, giving me the bare minimum amount of air to not feel like I was suffocating. Despite this, I forced the words through.
“By—Byron—” I stopped as my lungs emptied, that tight feeling in my chest indicating I had no more air to speak. Gasping, I struggled to pull in another breath to ease that painful constriction.
“I’m here, Dirk,” Byron said from my blindside. I tried to turn my head, but an awful tearing sensation pull at my skin. “Don’t move! You—you’re in bad shape, man.”
“Give—treat,” I managed to whisper.
“I’m outta my special treats,” Mama G said, walking into sight from the left. “But this’ll ease the hurt.”
She came over and placed a soft cookie on my lips. Just that subtle touch lit my nerves on fire, but I forced myself through the pain, pulling the treat into my mouth with my tongue. I tried to chew, but my skin pulled tight at the motion, so I dry swallowed the cookie down whole. That familiar warmth spread out from my chest after a moment—not doing much to the pain except dulling the edge a bit. But it was enough for me to get my thoughts in order.
“Everyone… alive?” I gasped out.
“Yeah, thanks to you!” Lacy replied. “Dirk… thank you.”
I tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a wheeze. “Already… thanked—” I cut off as the pain redoubled, forcing me to focus my entire being on fighting that down for the moment. Lacy continued, not aware of the effort it was taking me to keep from screaming my throat hoarse.
“I know, but I’m serious. You saved us—you saved me.” Her voice broke at the end, and I forced my one good eye open to look at her.
“Ye, yerra good cunt.”
Emerging from the nearby tunnel, Amos sauntered in, two pigeons perched on his shoulder. Mama G cast him a dark look, but didn’t lash out at his language.
“High… praise,” I muttered, letting out another wheeze-chuckle. The warmth from the magical treat was intensifying, mixing with my burns in a not-so-pleasant way, though I did feel some strength returning to my body.
Now that the pain was down from an 11 to a simple 10, I started thinking about the redo and how I would salvage this run. Obviously, I needed to avoid or neutralize the fire caster next time. But other than that, the run had been nearly perfect. The only thing to do now was to disseminate information and get some in return so things went smoothly after I saved them on the next run.
“Is every… one… here?” I asked Lacy.
“Jerome and Frank are watching the tunnels.”
“Get them… please.”
“They’re needed there, boy—” Mama G started. I growled, cutting her off, impatient that I couldn’t communicate properly.
“Get… them!”
