Last Command of the Witheld Arc 1: Rebirth

GRIFFIN TUCKER VASILIAS, GREAT HOUSE SCION, REBORN LVL 5

MT DISCOVERY, PROVINCE OF ARAGONIA

Griffin felt his knees go wobbly again and sank back down, doing his best not to throw up while at the same time feeling like his head was going to explode. He couldn’t pay attention to the fight around him through the sudden extreme nausea and headache.

“Oh God,” Griffin groaned, “How is it that I can feel so awful and yet not have been hurt even one little bit? And have a splitting fucking headache?”

“You didn’t use the Ten Star Vortex Technique,” Kismet said calmly. “You have approximately 7.8 seconds to get up and either get out of this spot or kill the Mother that decided to pounce on you as you fell off your line. 5 seconds now.”

Griffin scrambled to his feet and turned on his 3-D Movement module once more, choosing a path at random. Instead of him getting swept off his feet, he got a burst of light behind his eyes and splitting pain in his skull. That’s right, Kismet had been warning him that he was out of tensa!

He screamed and felt his legs go weak as he realized he really should have activated that Ten Star Vortex Technique to refill his tensa pool. As he lay there trying to keep his skull pressed together with his hands—even through the full helmet he was trying to hold his head—he vaguely felt himself get lifted into the air.

The Mother had charged at him and used its huge jaws to lift him in its steel-sheathed, serrated mandibles. He once again felt himself getting shoved toward a Mother’s grinding maw but this time, the text box that popped up was far more alarming:

Environmental Emergency

EXTREME ENVIRONMENT DETECTED. DYNAMIC ADAPTATION OF DEEP SUIT REQUIRED FOR CONTINUED SURVIVAL.

At the current configuration, you have 0:08, and counting before fatal injury prevents possible resuscitation.

Dynamic configuration will require high tensa allocation. Your tensa pool has been depleted. Unable to use tensa for Dynamic Adaptation. Please restore 8.5 ks for Dynamic Configuration to become available.

Allocate / Do Not Allocate

“Shit!” Griffin screamed.

I need to get tensa back now! Wait! All this extra stuff, the sensors, the 3-D movement thing I’m not using, —hell, even the DEEP Suit itself requires a reserve of tensa. A reserve! I can’t let the armor go, but if I just let those other grafts go I’d get at least…fuck math is hard! Enough, it’ll have to be enough!

As soon as he thought of it, he turned off all the extra bells and whistles he’d been activating in addition to his DEEP Suit and felt an immediate surge of energy as tensa flooded back through him. The sudden return of his tensa energized him enough that he could resist the bite force of the giant insect. He grabbed the mandibles and tried to pry them apart. He didn’t succeed, but he wasn’t moving into the maw anymore. The next thing he did was start up his Ten Star Vortex technique just so that he wouldn’t run out of tensa again.

The counter ticked down to 0:03, but the message still informed him that he needed another 5 ks before he could activate the Dynamic Adaptation. But that wasn’t what he was after. He’d thought of something he could do with his Adaptive Conjuration graft.

Griffin dumped tensa into the conjuration he’d just thought of as he desperately braced against the crushing pressure the Mother was exerting with her mandibles. The grinder in its throat shrieked as it spun and the Mother started curling in on herself, its profusion of cybernetic legs turning it into a nightmare of chitin and electronics.

Griffin screamed as the servos in his arms groaned under the pressure. He’d finally supplied his Adaptive Conjuration with enough tensa—once again emptying his pool—and smoking liquid began pouring into the the Mother’s mouth, conjured from nowhere.

The Mother thrashed even more, tightening its curl, its legs scraping against the DEEP Suit’s armored plates. The liquid continued to be dumped all over the Mother’s head and mouthparts and they were already beginning to freeze over. He heard a pop of glass shattering as one of the big plasma lenses on the Mother’s metallic faceplate broke in the extreme cold.

I guess -195° Celsius will do that to even a schoolbus-sized monstrous centipede, Griffin thought, still dumping conjured liquid nitrogen into the thing’s face. I can’t believe that worked! I guess liquid nitrogen isn’t exactly complex so I had no problem conjuring it.

The monster stopped shrieking and its convulsions began to slow down. He was no longer being squeezed by its mandibles, but it hadn’t let him go. Griffin kept dumping liquid nitrogen into its face and even though he couldn’t see through the clouds of sublimating nitrogen, the spinning grinder in its throat wasn’t making a healthy sound anymore. He took a chance and dared to let go of one of the bladelike mandibles that was gripping him and when it didn’t immediately crush him, he knew he’d succeeded.

He looked at the mandibles gripping him, trying to find some hinge or weak point or something. There weren’t any hinges he could see, but they were entirely covered in frost. He had a sudden, wild thought of the T-1000 walking out of the liquid nitrogen truck explosion and shattering because of how brittle it had become. He grinned and lifted his arm as high as he could.

Griffin slammed his fist into the frozen—hopefully just as brittle as the T-1000—mandible and made a surprised gurk! noise when it worked. The mandible abruptly broke off and he fell to the ground almost three meters below with the entire Mother still curled over him, its whole head frozen. He coughed as he tried to get up, feeling fire in his ribs and his entire left leg.

I must’ve landed on it wrong, he thought, turning his head to look at his leg. “Oh my God,” he muttered, feeling his gorge rise and fighting off a wave of faintness with sheer willpower.

Before he could react, a series of System messages demanded his attention.

Quest Completion

Quest: Kill the Plasma Cybercentipede Mother before she destroys you with her million-strong brood.

Reward: Uncommon ethershard

Completion Status: Quest Complete. Bonus! 6 x Plasma Cybercentipede Mothers were destroyed. Bonus gained! Rewards listed below:

1 x Uncommon ethershard of the Void

1 x Uncommon ethershard of Doors

1 x Uncommon ethershard of the Swarm

1 x Uncommon ethershard of Legs

Achievement: Mechanized Myriapod Matron Massacre

Achievement Gained!

Mechanized Myriapod Matron Massacre

Description: You destroyed or participated in the destruction of five or more Insect Boss monsters in one Dungeon.

Reward: 10 x lesser ethershards of Precision

Attribute Increased!

System Message: Through diligent graft use and training, you have increased your Dominion [Ocean] Attribute by 3 points!

DOM [Ocean] – 10 ->13

Attribute Increased!

System Message: Through diligent graft use and training, you have increased your Speed [Data] Attribute by 3 points!

SPD [Data] – 12 ->15

Once he’d read them, the messages disappeared and he was left with the wreckage of his leg. The nausea that had threatened to make him puke before returned in full force. Hot tears sprang to his eyes as the pain suddenly assaulted him.

His left leg was twisted in the wrong direction. He’d landed on it and it had twisted under him, snapping within his armor. The pain was brutal and it was still building.

“Oooooow,” Griffin groaned, clutching at his leg, “Real good news, bad news…” He had to pause and regain his breath for a minute before he continued, “situation. Completed the Quest! Yay! Good…ow….news. Bad news…you’ll never get to use the reward! I was really hoping for…ow god this fucking hurts… was really hoping… oooow. For a healing potion.”

Kismet flitted around his leg, examining the injury, a worried look on her face. “I’m not going to ask how much that hurts. That injury is probably too much for that health pack you got earlier,” she said, her voice tight with strain, “but I know there’s a healer in that team’s roster—I saw it in your HUD. Don’t move—I know how that sounds, but don’t. I’ll bring him here. Just wait and I’ll bring him.” Griffin nodded wordlessly, now fully unable to speak beyond the blinding pain in his leg and his ribs.

She does care, he thought disjointedly, if I can get little Sarah to love me then I’ll see the real Sarah! Oh, God, that’s not how… fuuuuuuuuuuuck this hurts! Please please please please please just stop the…

“Griffin,” Kismet’s voice said, cutting through his thoughts, “I’m going to pipe in my view of the battle into your HUD try to watch. Don’t let yourself pass out. You’re bleeding internally and I need you to stay conscious.”

He didn’t have any way to respond: it was everything he could do to just stay awake. His view of his ruined leg faded away, replaced with another view of the cavern, this one from much closer to the Vasilias team. The battle raged on.

There were still two Mothers harassing the group with one clinging to the wall and the other biting at Tolochi and the other ginpaari in the team. Kismet was flying around, searching everywhere for one key person: a heavyset human with ceramaplate armor firing a huge railgun at the Mother on the wall.

She flew right in next to him, though he didn’t seem to register her presence. He was firing at the Mother, but he didn’t have very good night vision or he just wasn’t very good at using the huge gun because he missed every shot. The other heavily armored human, Xander Vasilias, charged past him, his two-handed hammer held ready. Kismet didn’t pay too much attention to Xander but flew right in front of the railgunner’s face.

“Culvis Thoroneld, Stone rank True Healer of House Vasilias!” She yelled at him. “Acknowledge!”

He irritably swiped at her with one hand, squeezing off several more ineffective shots at the Mother on the wall, swearing sulphurously the entire time. She kept flying in front of his face, yelling his name at him until he finally broke off the attack and slid back under a stone shelf for cover. Kismet followed him and was prepared for his angry demands as he ripped off his helmet.

“Yeah, this is Culvis you damn fool eidolon! Where is your Reborn? I’m of a mind to—”

She cut him off “I’m System Eidolon to Griffin Vasilias and he is seriously injured just a few meters away! You’re a True Healer and he needs your help!”

He gaped at her for just half a second, his odd mustaches quivering. Then his mouth shut with a snap and flattened into a grim line. He nodded once and called out a quick burst of syllables in their coded language. Since Kimet was a System Eidolon to a Scion of House Vasilias, she was able to automatically translate the House’s language as it was spoken.

Culvis had said, “Breaking off support. Eyes on target. Target requires medical attention.”

Xander barked out a single syllable response—an acknowledgment—and dodged out of the way of one of the Mother’s spear-like legs as it attempted to impale him by trampling him. The musician fended off the rear end of the Mother with a flashing bolt of fire that blasted forth from her mouth as she sang a complex harmony with her instrument.

Culvis sprinted after Kismet who flew unerringly to Griffin where he was laid in a twisted heap on the cavern floor, the balled-up corpse of the Mother wrapped up around him. When they got there, Culvis stopped, staring in surprise at the huge monster’s body.

He shook his head slowly and said, “Eidolon! We’re too late if he’s been wrapped up in that mess. There’s no way someone below stone rank could have survived…”

“No more delays! Every moment you waste, your Scion lies bleeding internally!” She increased her glow as she remonstrated him so by the time she finished, she was glowing like a lightbulb. She flashed away, navigating the complex shadows and crevices of the monster’s corpse to get to Griffin.

His face paled and he scrambled after her, occasionally having to shove huge legs or ragged cybernetics out of his way until he was crouched in the small space in the middle of the monster where Griffin was. Griffin had a weird moment of seeing himself from a third perspective from his position on the ground, but he was so consumed in dealing with the pain that he didn’t notice it. Culvis quickly assessed the situation, a clear professional.

The stocky man was immensely strong but gentle at the same time. He spoke constantly to Griffin in a deep voice that immediately set him at ease. “There you go, son, there you go. I’m Culvis Thoroneld, healer for House Vasilias. You’re in good hands, son, hold on while I take a look at you. I’m just going to Analyze the injury area and get a good idea of what’s going on in there so I can make sure I get everything when I do it.” He was working as he spoke, holding a hand out over Griffin, a reddish light shining down over Griffin’s body.

Culvis steadily moved his hand shining the light over the injury area, his Analyze graft using his anima to construct a detailed illusion of Griffin’s injury in midair. The healer used his other hand to manipulate the illusion, looking at it from all directions. The illusion was in 4K definition and blown up to show every detail. Griffin had a front-row seat to see just how mangled his tibia and fibula were. His shin had been torn open with the bone poking through the muscle. Flecks of bone shards mixed with torn flesh in a gut-churning mess.

Culvis kept the Analysis illusion running as he quickly used his Synthesize Drug graft to create a purifying medication that would cleanse the injury so no sneaky pathogens would kill him after he’d healed the physical damage. Griffin watched in pained wonder as the healer worked with light and magic, synthesizing medicine using tensa and then using yet another that his HUD identified as Filter to add the synthesized drug directly to his bloodstream, filtering out infections and impurities he might have picked up from the Mother. It had the added benefit of priming Griffin’s flesh with his tensa and his anima, which would make further healing later on possible.

Griffin’s head began to feel floaty and soft, the pain fading away to something inconsequential as the Culvis’ drugs took hold. “I’ve deadened the pain and given you a round of anti-parasitics, antibiotics, and a package of vaccinations for common Monster diseases,” the healer said as he worked, his eyes never leaving the illusion showing Griffin’s grisly-looking injury. “You’re going to feel very woozy for a bit, but you’re going to remain conscious. You must remain conscious because I’m going to need you to dismiss your armor.”

“Dismiss…” Griffin drooled, feeling sluggish as he squinted up at the older man. “Armor?”

Culvis nodded distractedly as he spoke, “Yes, you need to dismiss that armor you have on. There’s no fasteners or straps so I can’t carve you out of it with a knife. I can tell this is conjured armor, so you’ll have an item or a graft you’re maintaining to keep here. Just let it go, son.”

The healer was still manipulating the hologram, though it had become clear to Griffin that he was no longer just looking, now he was…doing things. Griffin felt a tickling sensation in his shin, making him kick in reaction. Culvis looked sharply over at him but then refocused on his work. Something went pop very wetly and Griffin felt a tug on his calf.

“I can make…Cinnabon rolls,” Griffin said brightly, slurring his words. “But—but I haven’t gotten…orangejuice right. Yet. Gimme time.” He squinted again, trying to sort out Culvis’ actual words. He didn’t seem to want Cinnabon rolls, which seemed incredibly odd. “Oh. Oh! My armor. Dismiss. Armor.”

He fumbled at the concept, but it was difficult to approach. Finally, though, he managed it by feeling it as a relaxing of a muscle that felt like it had been clenched for such a long time that he’d just gotten used to it being clenched. The armor disintegrated and Culvis was ready for it.

He carefully maneuvered Griffin’s leg, making constant use of his various healing grafts, capitalizing on the convergences and graft synergies he’d created even at his relatively low level and rank. Griffin’s leg was straightened and the bone was set, then welded with tensa and strengthened. Then all the torn flesh was regrown at rapid speed and the swelling and bruises were eased away with the healing energies washing through him.

“All right, then, Griffin,” Culvis said, easing his newly healed leg down, “see if you can put some weight on it. Your leg should be better than new, but I want to be sure. The anesthetic should be breaking down just about now and your head will be clearing up soon after.”