Mask of Humanity

Nicolai navigated the Gauntlet in his typical manner. He’d worried that the random element of it would eventually catch him out, but after going through it so many times he’d learned a number of methods to make his life easier and safer.

This included some strategies to distract the big one alongside a method that would cause the light-throwing undead up above to start syncing up their shots, making them significantly easier to dodge. He’d even found that if something went wrong, he needed only to step out and wait for about ten minutes. This would cause all of them to undergo a type of reset, returning to wandering aimlessly around.

In the living quarters Nicolai spent the day cautiously scouting around, looking for the occasional clump of disordered undead. He still couldn’t see a way to deal with the patrols via any method other than slowly luring them, killing a few, retreating, and repeating, and that would be difficult and risky so he preferred to hunt for the spearmen that could be found lounging around in some rooms and the hooded ones with knives.

Without his polearm they were all notably harder to kill. He’d debated about bringing the longsword, but concluded it would be less effective at smashing skulls, more likely to glance off where the baton would smash through, so the baton it was. It did the job against these weaker undead spearmen, but it lacked the power and range of the polearm and he suspected he would struggle against anything more heavily armoured.

By utilising doorways, cluttered hallways, and simple quick movement around them to force them to approach him one-by-one, he was able to reliably kill the spearmen without any significant risk. On top of that, his practise was paying off as he was capable of using his Seed’s Soul Sense in combat. When the tendrils were spread, it let him sort-of feel all that was around him, keeping track of enemies even if they’d gotten behind him, as well as being able to “feel” around corners.

There was only one problem.

Nicolai parried the spear of the final of the latest batch of spearmen, then quickly closed and clubbed its skull apart. He’d managed to kill these ones pretty fast.

He unhooked the Soul Trap from his belt, pushed an Oma crystal under the leather, and darted around after the wisps as they finished forming and attempted to flee, catching as many as he could. He caught three, and two got away. That was the problem. He couldn’t scoop them up in the middle of the fight, not unless the undead became unusually separated, enough to give him time and space to do so.

He watched his Seed consume the souls, then he deactivated the Soul Trap and replaced the Seed in his mouth. He gathered up the skulls and chips of bone from the ones whose souls had escaped, and carried them with him through the twisting hallways to a room nearby to the entrance to the gauntlet, where he opened one of the secret tunnels and tossed them inside to join a growing pile, then closed the hidden door.

It wasn’t a big problem. He’d claim their souls tomorrow, after they reanimated.

Nicolai tapped his mark.

User Interface 376 | Player #53,217

- Cultivation

> Seed Progress

Soul: 18%

Oma: 18%

From sixteen to eighteen, a two percent gain. How many souls had he taken? He hadn’t kept exact track, guessed it around fifteen total since he’d come out here. Not a lot, as to his frustration he’d been forced to spend much of his time hiding, avoiding the groups of roving humans and the undead patrols. The humans especially were out in significant number and common, all seeming to be from the same group. He suspected them to be Chosen.

The orange light of the torches was beginning to dull, and he knew they would soon begin shading towards red, which told him it was time to head home.

Nicolai stepped out of the room, checking left and right. He saw a flicker of movement and ducked back just in time, a spear slicing past him to continue down the hallway, landing with a distant clatter. He stepped back out to face the individual who had thrown it.

There was a man standing there, a dozen or so metres down the hallway. The man had some o-k armour consisting of a chainmail undershirt, an actual breastplate, some random leg and arm pieces, then a longsword and a shield—a little wooden buckler. Of more danger was the fact that he held the longsword in a bulky artificial arm, an all-purpose bionic Nicolai recognised as being designed by Eunity industries, touted as a “superior all-round replacement.” The man stood like he’d fought before and held the sword easily.

He had dark hair, dark skin, and peered at Nicolai with flinty, frowning grey eyes.

Like Nicolai, he had some pouches on his belt. On top of that, there was a Rejuvenating Orb hanging from his neck.

Nicolai slid the baton into the sheath he’d made for it on his belt and drew the rapier, then stepped forwards. He needed more Oma crystals and he wanted that rejuvenating orb. And look at this, someone’s come to give me what I need.

‘Drop your weapon, hand over your Seed, and I won’t kill you,’ said the man.

Is that a joke? Nicolai wasn’t sure. He laughed politely anyway, nodding and smiling, and the man’s frown deepened, seeming confused. Not a joke, then. Nicolai’s reaction had been incorrect. He considered apologising for the social faux pas but he figured that would only make him seem more odd. It didn’t matter anyway; he’ll be dead, soon.

He drew closer, the thrill beginning to spread and saturate through him, his hungry gaze hovering around the man’s centre of gravity, flicking to sword and shield and eyes and legs.

When he was only steps away his opponent struck at him, a light flick of the bionic arm that sent the sword humming out, just as Nicolai was entering range. Nicolai only needed to step back, and the blade slid by him. He pressed forwards and the sword swished back from the other side so he ducked away, following the steps of a familiar dance.

His opponent was testing him out, keeping him at the tip of the blade. The rapier was a little shorter. Nicolai waited there, on the edge of his opponents range, moving in and out, watching, learning, utterly fixated on the space between them and the movements of the blade and his opponent’s body.

The man advanced all of a sudden, stepping forwards and twisting his body to strike, eating at the space between them.

Nicolai twitched back, catlike, the blade slicing at empty air, and he lunged forwards in an attempt to catch the man. But his enemy could move well, too, the man shying away from Nicolai’s stab and countering.

For the first time Nicolai lacked time to simply move out of range, forced to block the strike. Sparks flew as the sword slammed into his shield and skittered over the metal.

He might have struggled, but his opponent hadn’t been able to put the weight of his body behind the strike, and though the bionic arm was powerful, it lacked the mass to power through his block as he let his arm flex then his core then his legs and the force moved through his body, was absorbed by tensed muscles and the ground.

Nicolai needed to get in closer, otherwise his rapier was too short to do any work. He pressed forwards, striking with his shield to deflect or counteract the man’s powerful blows. The man rained strikes down on Nicolai, and Nicolai felt the burn of his arms as he began to tire. He blocked a swing and stabbed out from behind his shield, but the man blocked it with his own small shield as easily as Nicolai had, then his leg lashed out in a kick. At the same time, the sword was swinging back down towards Nicolai.

This was a dangerous moment, a full-out assault from every angle, his opponent looking to ensure hitting him with at least something. But none of it was outside of Nicolai’s abilities. He sidestepped to avoid the kick then ducked to dodge the sword, before scuttling backwards to get out of range.

Then he turned and ran, sprinting down the corridor. The man had some chip operating his bionic arm and therefore the sword, which moved independently to his body, allowing him to block and kick while attacking with it easily. On top of that, he was skilled, moreso than the last augmented humans Nicolai had fought.

The thrill surging through him wanted to turn around and dive back in, his heart beating out of his chest with the joy of the fight, the best he’d had since those four torturers. The knowledge that any mistake could lead to his death made him feel truly, vibrantly alive, the whole world seeming to shine and twist around him.

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the man pursuing. Good. Turning his gaze back ahead, his eyes scanned the ground until he saw what he was looking for. A sharp metal head, a long wooden shaft; his opponents thrown spear.

It wasn’t possible to sheath the rapier quickly while running, his body and the sheath jerking around, so he just tossed it out to skitter on the ground in front of him. He stooped as he ran by, grabbing the spear then skidding and spinning in place, turning the spear and bringing it to bear. He stopped his momentum in an instant and lunged in strike.

The man had been running full-out, a cat chasing a mouse, and this cat was caught unprepared as the mouse found itself a spike.

The spear licked out in a stop-thrust and the man skidded as he stopped, his arms in all wrong positions to try and block. The tip punched through the man’s chainmail under-armour just beneath his breastplate. Nicolai felt it penetrating flesh, then the man’s sword came around automatically in a great circle of steel and cut the spear in half, which jerked the tip around in the man’s stomach, ripping the wound further open, and he yelled in pain.

The man stood there half bent over, grimacing with pain, breathing heavily, the tip of a spear dug into his stomach, his whole body looking shocked and unready and ripe for killing apart from his bionic arm which had become a guard, moving to raise the sword and hold it between the man and Nicolai.

Nicolai threw the length of wood the spear had been reduced to like a javelin, aimed at his opponents face, and the sword twisted and knocked it from the air of its own volition. This movement took the man by surprise and he yelled again as his body jerked, then groped for the spear end in his stomach, gripping it tight.

Nicolai danced back and picked his rapier up from the ground as the man pulled at the spear end, letting out a scream of pain as he dragged it from his stomach, a spray of blood coming out as the spear-tip emerged and was thrown to the ground. Shame it’s not barbed.

Nicolai charged, lunged with the rapier, and was met by the man’s sword, swooping at him and forcing him to disengage, but he came right back.

The man was struggling now, trying to press the funnel on his Rejuvenating Orb and suck in a healing breath, but his body was jerked around by the actions of his bionic arm which fought against Nicolai. At the same time, he was no longer able to supplement the movements of the sword with his shield and body, and despite the speed and strength of the artificial limb, without any reinforcement from the body behind it, it lacked power.

The blade clanged on Nicolai’s shield over and over as he pressed forwards, the man stumbling back, his lips around the funnel of the rejuvenating orb. Then Nicolai caught a blow with his shield and shoved it into the blade, pushing the sword and bionic arm up and away, and he stabbed out in that moment, aiming for the man’s throat, his lips twisted into a savage grin as he sensed the end of the fight drawing near.

Once again, the bionic limb surprised him. It dropped the heavy sword behind the man and lurched down, putting its forearm in between Nicolai’s rapier’s tip and the man it was attached to. The metal point sunk into artificial flesh, pressing through wires and synthetic muscle with a flare of sparks and a spray of white hydraulic fluid, then coming to a stop against something solid.

Nicolai followed up by smashing the edge of his shield into the arms elbow joint which caused an expensive sounding crunch, knocking it and his target back as he ripped his rapier free.

The man toppled to the ground where he squirmed and from how he moved Nicolai knew that he was healed or at least almost healed. The arm’s movements, on the other hand, had become jerky, and it struggled to bend properly at the elbow. It did, however, manage to lunge out and grab the sword before Nicolai could capitalise on the unarmed state.

Nicolai was panting for breath, arms and legs heavy. He moved forward slowly, seeking to regain a little energy, but keeping close just to pressure the man who squirmed faster, scrambling to his feet, breathing just as hard as Nicolai. He flailed with the sword to keep Nicolai back and it moved in a mad jerk, zig-zagging through the air then scraping off the wall before he regained control.

Nicolai swayed away, no energy wasted, and judged he’d hit something important in the bionic arm. It had saved the man it was attached to, but its functionality was reduced as a result. Without the arm to carry his opponent, Nicolai knew the fight wouldn’t last much longer.

‘Fuck,’ gasped the man, jerked about as his arm flailed at Nicolai who now stood well out range, his eyes tracking the movements of the out-of-control sword.

Yep. Nicolai crept forwards, his focus tightening, the thrill turning slower, patient, almost wishing to draw this out. It had been a good fight. The man, or at least his bionic arm, had fought well. The fact that it would soon be over made Nicolai experience something that could be considered sadness.

Oddly enough, the task before him wasn’t all that easy. The random, flailing movements of the malfunctioning arm were quite dangerous. Nicolai generally found AI’s, especially lower grade ones like the one in that arm, very predictable because they could be relied upon to make simple, optimal moves. If you understood how fast a bionic was, and how it could move, it was easy to predict.

He found humans equally easy to read because their faces and their bodies were open to his eyes, broadcasting their intentions. The movements of the malfunctioning arm now fit into neither schema, completely random and unpredictable, and they held him off as he paused to see if he could work out some kind of pattern or weakness to exploit.

But, it seemed like he might not have to do anything. The man yelped when the tip of the blade almost caught him in the face after the sword glanced off the wall and came back at him, only barely getting his face out the way.

Nicolai watched with interest, curious to see how this would develop.

The man stumbled back, teeth gritted, and he said, ‘Set arm to manual!’ To Nicolai’s disappointment, the arm stopped flailing, its movements becoming more natural, fitting back into the overall movements of the man’s body; no longer under the control of the arm’s malfunctioning AI but the man himself. It still moved a little jerkily, struggling especially at the elbow joint.

Nicolai smiled. Now it was much easier to read. He twitched the rapier’s blade in a shining circle as he advanced and made his stance more aggressive, feinting and twisting the blade, fuelling his opponent's uncertainty and fear. The man shuffled backwards, eyes wide, his breathing ever more laboured. It was as though there was some invisible aura surrounding Nicolai that pressed down upon him, shook him.

Nicolai had drawn close enough. He swayed back and parried a too-fast and too-powerful strike with the longsword that he diverted safely past him, and which pulled the man with its momentum. He used that moment to kick out and he caught the man on the side of his knee which to his disappointment didn’t break, but it twisted and the man fell.

The fight was entering its terminal stages. Nicolai took his time, pressing close but not striking, drawing out more desperate swings and keeping the man on the ground, looking for a chance to dart in and end it safely with one stab.

There was a humming noise, and his eyes snapped up to look down the corridor over his downed opponent, taking a step back to move out of the range of the man’s sword as he did so.

He saw a drone which had just come from around a corner, and it stopped for an instant, its camera fixed on him, then rose to just below the ceiling and came further forwards. That’s not good. His last interaction with a drone was close in his recent recall, bundled with the memory of a gunshot. He could hear distant voices, yelling, from around the corner behind the drone.

They would very soon have company, and that company would likely be armed not with swords, but guns.

He glanced down. The man was still staring at him from the ground, not even glancing behind. His focus was fixated on Nicolai, unwilling to become distracted for a moment because he sensed that the instant he did, Nicolai would kill him. But Nicolai knew this man wasn’t friends with those on the way, because there was no relief in his eyes, no hope.

The idea that the group coming would kill this man and take all his things—things which Nicolai had earned by virtue of winning the fight—upset him. He took some rapid steps back towards where he knew there was a room with a hidden entrance to the tunnels then hissed at the man, ‘Come on! Follow me!’

He wanted to finish their fight and that wasn’t going to happen if the man just laid there. Not to mention, it would be good to have someone on his side if the group cornered him.