Chapter 119: Worry

Chapter 119: Worry

Immolate!

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Immolate (10/10)

176-202 heat (fcs) damage per second to entities and environment

Sufficient damage causes ignition

Range: 18 meters

Cost: 50 mp/s

Rain ignored the dialog that spawned as he activated the skill. The undead villagers—ghosts, zombies, Memories, whatever you wanted to call them—were less ‘Night of the Living Dead’ and more ‘Twenty-Eight Days Later’ in terms of their approach. The temperature rose as red light shined from his armor, his cloak billowing slightly from the heating air. He wasn’t using any boosts out of fear for his allies, but neither was he holding back. The lack of ambient Heat mana made the spell spread slowly, but his own mana would be enough to get the job done, given enough time.

Time that his allies would buy him.

“Block the door!” Carten shouted as he fell into a wide squat. He slammed his shields into the ground facing forward, building a wall of flesh and steel. There was a screech of ice on metal as the blade of the lead Memory skittered across his armor. More were right behind it, too many to count. Hundreds. Carten grunted as the tide of dead bodies crashed into him, but they might as well have tried to move a mountain. He didn’t slide back so much as a single centimeter.

The first kill was claimed by Samson. He’d slipped to Carten’s left, and in the same motion effortlessly beheaded one of the dead villagers with a slash that left a trail of white light in its wake. Samson had eschewed the wooden shield he’d been issued, preferring the two-handed style that he knew. The lack didn’t appear to be hindering him, his sword rising smoothly to deflect a strike meant for his neck.

“Ahhhh!” Lyn yelled, her spear a blur as she fought to fend off the monsters on Carten’s other side. She was using it more like a staff, thumping the monsters to push them back. The Memories, Rain realized to his horror, were awake. They were screaming in anguish, frozen tears in their eyes. Rain watched as one of them dodged back from Lyn’s spear, the tip scratching a line into its icy armor.

“Kill meeee!” it yelled in a voice that sounded like the wind, its blades slashing for her neck. Lyn couldn’t respond. She was busy trying to wrest her spear away from another Memory that had grabbed the haft. Rain jerked forward, knowing as he did that he would be far too late to save her. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one to see the danger. An Arcane Bolt took the Memory right in the face, Jamus’s magic detonating its head in a fountain of gore.

“Ha!” Mlem shouted, his scimitar freeing Lyn’s spear by severing the arm of the Memory holding it. He moved up beside her, plugging the last hole in their defense. With the four front-liners in place, the entrance to the mill was effectively blocked.

Val and Jamus set to work, Arcane and Light magic tearing into the horde. For all that Val’s magic wasn’t as destructive as Jamus’s, it was no less effective in getting the Memories to flinch back. The press of bodies was overwhelming, with those that fell being quickly trampled by those behind.

“Oh gods...” Tahir said, his voice trembling. He stepped up beside Rain, sending an arrow flying over Carten’s head and into the face of one of the Memories trying to climb over the big man. The Memory jerked back; then its head pivoted to stare at the archer, the shaft of the arrow sticking from its skull above its eye. It—no— she screamed at Tahir in terror as she lunged forward. It was the woman from earlier, the one who’d wanted to buy some grain.

“Oh gods!” Tahir yelled again, his voice breaking as he shrunk back. He fumbled his next arrow, dropping it to the ground.

“There’s too many!” Mlem shouted. He blocked a slash with his wooden shield, then retaliated with his scimitar. “We can’t keep them back! Do somet—oh.”

The expanding sphere of Immolate had finally crossed beyond the confines of the mill, the outer fringe of the aura starting to work on the nearest of the Memories. Rain’s heart was hammering as he clung to his spell, adrenaline born of fear fighting against the horror of what he was seeing. Of what he was doing.

They’re not real. They’re not real. They’re not real...L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Ñøv€l--B1n.

Sharp cracks filled the air as the conjured ice broke. Moments later, there was an explosion of fire. Everyone except Carten and Rain shouted in surprise, cringing back from the rapidly growing fireball. Within seconds, the first of the Memories started to die. Through the flames, Rain could see their health bars sliding down in an ever-expanding arc. Immolate was tearing through them like the detonation of a bomb in slow motion.

The health bars suddenly froze. The Spirit Caller was screaming again, the unnatural sound stabbing into them like a physical thing. Rain could barely see now, squinting against the ever-increasing glare. The sound of cracking ice told him what had happened. The Spirit Caller had conjured a second layer of armor for the Memories, but it hadn’t been enough. The bars were falling again, even faster than before. Rain was forced to squeeze his eyes shut as the flames grew too bright for him to bear. The afterimage of the blaze danced across his vision, taking the shape of the slit in his visor.

“Haaaah! Get fucked, ghosts!” Carten yelled. There was a clang of metal on metal as he slammed his shields together. “Fuckin’ hells, Little Mouse!” he shouted, laughing.

The torrent of kill notifications finally slowed, the glare fading. Rain cracked open his eyes, then began to cough. Smoke was filling the air, carrying the scent of charred decaying meat and scorching his lungs as he breathed it in. His Heat resistance accolade didn’t do anything to reduce his sensation of the temperature; it merely prevented it from damaging him. To his horror, he saw that Lyn and Tahir’s health displays had dropped. Tahir was at 97% and Lyn was at 94%. They’d drop even further if he didn’t do something.

“Rain,” Lyn coughed, “st—stop! It’s too hot—” She coughed again. “I can’t—”

Purify.

The world vanished, blotted out by Aura Focus. When it returned, it had changed. Purify had erased the smoke as if it had never been, as well as the charred remains of the Memories that he’d burned up like so much kindling. A few remained, health bars in the red as they continued to burn. The Spirit Caller was in much better shape, its health bar only a sliver off full. It looked pissed, but Rain was focused on a more immediate issue. The roof above them was burning.

Problems like he was having.

The emotion pressed on him. Dozer quivered, trying to force it away, but it would not go. It was not an ⟬instinct⟭. It wasn’t ⟬eat-need⟭, ⟬sleep-need⟭, or ⟬clean-need⟭. It wasn’t even ⟬order-need⟭, which was the most complicated ⟬instinct⟭ that he had.

Dozer had learned several emotions, but none as complicated as this one. It wasn’t happy or bored or scared. The most complicated emotion Rain-King had taught him was hangry, which was like ⟬eat-need⟭ and ⟬kill-need⟭ together, but this new emotion was even more complicated than that.

The worst part about it was that the emotion was making him want to be bad.

Rain-King had told him to stay. Normally, this would have made Dozer happy. He was in the Forge-Home, and he much preferred it to the horrible cold snow down on the ground. Tall-Brother was here, using his hammer to make plenty of noise. Thanks to the reflections, Dozer could sense the shape of the Forge-Home in great detail. It was comfortable and warm. It was safe.

And yet, he wanted to leave.

Dozer wobbled, then reversed direction, resuming his exploration of Forge-Home. He traced the seam where the floor met the metal. He checked near the fire-cave, searching for ⟬filth⟭ that had fallen from above. He climbed into his box-bed, then counted the pieces of metal that were there. Once he finished with that, he climbed out of it again, then relaxed his membrane to slip past Tall-Brother’s metal legs. After he was through, he restored his shape and returned to the seam, checking it once more. Round and round, he circled, not knowing why. He was too busy thinking about the emotion.

Dozer could still feel Rain-King through the ⟬king-link⟭, but he was...far. So far that Dozer couldn’t tell if Rain-King was hurt or if he was in danger. Dozer didn’t need anything as complicated as an emotion to know that he needed to protect his ⟬king⟭. ⟬instinct⟭ was enough.

Dozer expelled a piece of metal with a clatter, dropping it back in his box-bed. It would be easy to follow the ⟬king-link⟭. He’d done it before. The problem was that Rain-King had told him to stay. If Dozer wanted to protect him, he’d have to break a command, which would make him bad.

The emotion surged, and Dozer had to fight to keep his shape, clinging to Tall-Brother’s legs for support. There were good emotions and bad emotions, he knew. Whatever this emotion was, it was clearly bad. It wasn’t anger. It also wasn’t fear, though that was closer.

A vibration from Tall-Brother jolted Dozer out of his thinking.

“Stop that, Dozer. Rain will come back. You do not need to worry about him.”

Dozer slowly released his hold on Tall-Brother’s legs and slid down into a puddle, confused. He had recognized his name, and Rain-King’s name, as well as two different commands. The commands hadn’t come from Rain-King, but that was fine. Tall-Brother was close enough. The problem was that the commands didn’t make sense. How could he both stop and come at the same time?

Dozer wobbled uncertainly as he reformed himself, trying to understand the rest of the words Tall-Brother had used. Dozer didn’t know these ones. Without Rain-King there to hear them too, he had no way to find out what they meant.

Dozer thought about this for a while.

Eventually, he decided that it was too confusing, and that he didn’t feel like listening to Tall-Brother anyway. He headed back for the fire-cave. There would be more ⟬filth⟭ by now. Not much, but ⟬filth⟭ was always falling from the fire-cave. And then he’d check his box-bed, and then the seam where the floor met the wall. Maybe he’d find something that would tell him what to do about the emotion. Or something that would tell him how he could both stop and come at the same time.

The next time Dozer pressed himself past Tall-Brother’s legs, Tall-Brother rumbled. It wasn’t just any rumble. Dozer knew this rumble. It meant that Tall-Brother was also having an emotion. He was angry-but-not-angry.

Dozer stopped, reforming himself near the open edge of the Forge-Home. Did he do something wrong?

Dozer thought harder.

No, that couldn’t be it. He was being good. Tall-Brother wasn’t angry-but-not-angry because of Dozer. Tall-Brother must be angry-but-not-angry because of something else.

Dozer put it out of his mind. Since he was already at the open edge of the Forge-Home, Dozer turned his attention outside. He listened hard but heard little. There was too much snow out there. Dozer hated snow. It was cold, and it stole the vibrations from the air, making it hard to sense what was around him. It was even worse than ⟬filth⟭. ⟬filth⟭ could be ⟬cleaned⟭. Snow could not.

Tall-Brother rumbled again. “If you are going to go, go.”

Dozer quivered excitedly. ‘Go’ was a command. Rain-King had said ‘stay,’ but that was long ago. Long enough that Rain-King might have forgotten. Or long enough to believe that Dozer had forgotten, which was the same thing.

Dozer scrunched himself up, then jumped. He struck the frigid ground with a spatter, then jerked back from it in discomfort. Instinctively, he made himself tall so his membrane would touch as little of the snow as possible. This couldn’t last, however, so after a moment, he forced himself to spread back out.

Dozer was brave. The snow wouldn’t stop him from protecting his ⟬king⟭.

Moving as quickly as he could, Dozer plowed a track through the horrible snow, following the ⟬king-link⟭. He heard Tall-Brother call something out behind him, but he didn’t pay attention to the words. He didn’t want to hear any more commands.

His hearing muted by the snow, Dozer quickly began running into obstructions. This was normal. Most of them were easily circumvented. The only thing that delayed him for more than a few moments was when he ran into Floofy-Cloud. The ⟬furry bonesack slime⟭ had collected a significant quantity of ⟬filth⟭. Obviously, Dozer couldn’t leave until that had been corrected.

Dozer liked Floofy-Cloud. He was the best of the ⟬furry bonesack slimes⟭. As Dozer worked, Floofy-Cloud proved his goodness by trying to ⟬clean⟭ Dozer in return. It wasn’t very effective, but at least he was trying, not like Picky-Picky. Picky-Picky only ever ⟬cleaned⟭ herself.

Leaving Floofy-Cloud behind, Dozer continued. Soon, he began to hear a strange vibration, unlike anything he remembered sensing before. It was like a wall of whispers, stretching high above him. Near the wall, Dozer detected one of his brothers, but he couldn’t determine which one it was because of the snow. It might have even been a sister. Dozer was still unsure what the difference was.

It didn’t matter right now, Dozer decided. He ignored his unidentified brother and pushed ahead toward the wall of sound. He would climb it if he needed to, no matter how high it was. Rain-King was on the other side. Too late, he realized that the brother wasn’t a brother at all. It wasn’t even a sister. It was Ameliah-Queen. She scooped him up out of the snow, just before he reached the wind-wall.

“I’ve got him, Tallheart. Don’t worry,” Ameliah-Queen said. Dozer heard the vibration of her words clearly, pressed as he was against her membrane. He squirmed, but couldn’t escape. He couldn’t shift his body quickly enough to escape from her arms. It wasn’t fair. If he had known that she would stop him, he would have hurried even faster. Dozer squirmed harder, but it was no good.

“Stop that, Dozer,” Ameliah-Queen said. “I don’t know if it will let you in, and I don’t want to find out. You’ll die in there. Stop, I said!”

Dozer stopped. Ameliah-Queen had issued a command. Still, he couldn’t stop completely. The emotion was still there, almost worse now that he was closer. He jiggled unhappily in Ameliah-Queen’s embrace.

“It’s okay,” Ameliah-Queen said, the vibrations of her voice gentle. She squeezed him gently, then began stroking his membrane.

Despite himself, Dozer began to relax. Once it was clear that he was no longer trying to escape, Ameliah-Queen took one of her hands away and pressed it against the wind-wall. As she did this, Dozer experienced another emotion. Surprise.

Ameliah-Queen’s hand had sunk into the surface. That meant the wall was soft, just like him. He felt more than heard the bones inside Ameliah-Queen shift against each other as she pushed harder. She was trying to go through!

Before Dozer had even finished processing what this might mean, Ameliah-Queen stopped, stepping back from the wall. “There, see?” she said. She gave Dozer another little squeeze, then started rocking him gently. When she spoke next, it was almost a whisper. “They’re still alive,” she said slowly, then sucked a large volume of air through her membrane, only to let it out slowly. “They’re all going to be fine,” she said softly. “Shh, now. Shh...”

Dozer wasn’t sure, but he thought Ameliah-Queen might be having the emotion too.