Otherlife Nightmares: The Selfless Hero Trilogy (19 page)

When the spell finished, the shell was gone. Blasting forward with a booming sound, it tore through the air and slammed into the chieftain.

The fire, lightning, and air that had been tightly packed in the cone burst out in a ball of light yellow plasma as the earthen shell fragmented on impact.

Where the chief had stood, there was only a leaky piece of meat. With Runner having a number of levels on the beast,
Splatterhouse
being a higher-end spell, and the creature having no resistance, it simply stood no chance.

Level up!

You’ve reached level 27

Unfortunately, it had taken eighty percent of his mana bar to cast
Splatterhouse
once.

Which makes it worthless for combat. I’d be a one pump chump. Even putting it into an item wouldn’t change thing—the cooldown would make it as useless, if not more. If I tried to outfit everyone with a staff that launched this, would I be equipping my friend today, to outfit my enemy tomorrow?

Grunting in disappointment, he opened the level-up window.

He selected Dexterity as the attribute to increase, then he executed the level up and waited for whatever memories would come. He had long since given up hope on getting the password, or the entire event that put them here, but it never hurt to hope.

Childhood memories came to him. Memories of his parents holding up silly drawings he made, attempting to put on a play for them, and reading deep into the night.

As they passed into his actual memory, he once more thought about the fact that he would never, could never, compare to his companions. So many of his stats went to cover the sixty-three-point deficit. Soon he would have the chance to build an entire set of armor for Katarina. Then she would be a mountain of angry redhead.

“My lord! Are you alright?” asked Isabelle from behind.

Looking over his shoulder, he frowned at the lithe blonde. Annoyance tickled his brain at the title she could not break. Or would not.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It was my spell after all. Though I suppose I need to go loot him. Here, follow along. My mana is tapped out and I could use an escort,” Runner said. Walking away from her, he lined himself up with the smoking corpse.

“Your spell? My lord, you use magic?”

“Sometimes. Depends on my mood.”

“Swords as well?”

“Yes, why?”

“And you crafted Katarina’s blade? It’s classed as an artifact…”

“Lady Death’s staff, Kitten’s sword and shield. Yes. Again, why?”

“That’s not possible. None of it is for a single person.”

“Sure it is, only for me. Stick around long enough and prove your loyalty, Isabelle. I’ll end up equipping you the same. Can’t have my mercenary commander running around in crappy gear.” Runner had the time to invest in gearing everyone on the trip. The carriage rides grew duller with every mile. “Ah, here we are.”

Bending down over the corpse, he shifted the contents into his bag. There wasn’t any point to anything the creature dropped.

He opened a trade window with Isabelle and transferred the gear to her.

“Take that. Personal gift from me. Do what you will with it.”

“My lord! I—these are very powerful. I cannot.”

“Pretty sure you’ll be breaking an order at that point. Unless you wanted to hand yourself over to me as a personal possession, I’m sure you misspoke.”

Done with the smoldering corpse, he began to trek back to the encampment. No one moved, everyone stood still, watching his approach. He had the distinct impression they were not sure what to make of the situation.

“Of course, my lord. My apologies. I accept these with the goodwill they were given in.”

“Damn right. I need you to hook in with Rabbit and get your shit squared. She’ll inventory out for me what I need. Start learning from her as fast as you can as well. I expect you to act as quartermaster for future mercenary groups. Off with you then. I’m tired of this place.”

Runner shook his head. There had to be some way to get
Splatterhouse
working on a more normal scale.

Shrinking the spell down would definitely make it more usable. Though it would then do inherently less damage.

Wait. Who can use magical items? Crafters can use magical items. Crafters would never dare challenge me. Make ’em big. Bulky. Hard to move once in place. They’ll end up no drop, so there will be no possibility of giving them away. Yes…

He could never hope to achieve the heights that Katarina, Thana, Hannah, or even Nadine could reach.

But I can definitely push them even higher. I don’t need to be better than them, I have to make them better than ever.

I shall become the merchant of death.

The real world had the likes of Oppenheimer. Here, here in Otherlife, it would have Norwood.

A slow evil grin spread across his face as he devised weapons in his mind. Weapons to cause mass destruction.

Trapped in his own body and unable to move, Runner screamed deep from his stomach. Screeched until his throat bled and his tongue hurt.

His arms and legs were bound to a table. A metal band had been clamped tightly to his brow and held his head in place.

Where am I? How did I get here? What’s going on?

Around him, masked creatures gathered. They were clothed in surgical scrubs, but he could see their glossy skin between the clothes. They occasionally reached out to touch various parts of his naked self with their three-fingered hands. And he lay there. Unable to move.

One of the monsters leaned over Runner’s chest and then drew a blade down at an angle from his shoulder.

Pain alone made him want to piss himself silly. A second cut was made on the opposite shoulder in the same manner as the first. Where the two slices met, the knife edge came again. From sternum to navel, he felt his skin spreading apart.

They were dissecting him. An autopsy.

Shoving a metal instrument under the skin, they worked to peel it off. A new pair of hands appeared, a metal device shaped like a wishbone cradled between alien claws.

The device was jammed into his ribs, and he felt them crack before snapping apart like dry kindling. Eyes wide in agony, Runner stared in shock as the creature stuck its hands deep into his chest cavity.

Panicked, afraid, and in pain, Runner tried to turn his head to scream for help. He managed a single inch. Laid out to his left were five identical men, locked in place. They were all him. They were all Runner Norwood.

Sitting bolt upright in his bed, Runner grabbed at his nightshirt with his right hand. Panting, he confirmed his body to be whole, correct, undamaged. Pressing his left hand to his eyes, he mentally checked the in game clock. It was three am.

The nightmare wasn’t lost on him. His mind had decided he would live what had probably already happened to Uno and company.

No. Not Uno. Michael Werner, Vick North, Jeff Finch, James Smith, Ben Pitt, Devon Malard. Ted Henshaw makes seven. Seven lives.

He shuddered, his skin cold, his mind sliding to and fro. Settling himself as best as he could, he lay back down into his bedding.

Staring up at the ceiling, he swallowed. Months ago he had wondered at the man he was becoming. Now he had his answer.

Unknown fingers locked around his right hand, squeezing his palm. Letting his head loll to the right, he found Hannah’s blue eyes staring into him.

“I’m losing myself, Hanners. I’m not a good person. If I met someone who had done the things I’ve done, I’d curse them. Curse them and the day they were born,” Runner choked out.

“The fact that you’re all fucked up over your choices means you’re clearly not lost. Maybe a little directionless, but not lost. No one in this world of ours, as shitty as it may be at times, has had to, or will have to, make the choices you do.”

Runner nodded his head a little, a fragile hold over his psyche settling in.

“You can talk to me. Talk to any of us. Well, maybe not prissy pants Nadine. She’s a goody two-shoes to the core. We’d all help you, Runner. In any way we could.”

“I know. Thank you, Hannah. I’m going to try to go back to sleep now.”

Patting his hand with hers, Hannah rolled over and invaded Nadine’s sleeping space, throwing an arm around the merchant.

Snickering quietly to himself, he had to feel impressed. Those two had come a long way from where they’d started. They all had.

He did not want to think about the fact that they had not yet found out about Uno and the rest. He would have to tell them soon. Hiding secrets would be the first step to losing their trust.

Their trust was one of the few precious things he had left.

Firm callused fingers wrapped into his nightshirt and dragged him across the floor towards Katarina and Thana’s bed.

Coming to a stop, he found himself wedged into the base of the bed frame. Above him were Katarina’s coal-colored eyes. They watched him.

She said nothing, as if she needed no words. She smiled, a gentle smile promising security and safety, and rested that long-fingered hand of hers in the middle of his chest. Her head disappeared from view as she returned to her pillow.

Feeling rather childish at how secure he felt, he nearly berated himself. Then stopped.

Who the fuck cares?

Resting his hand atop Katarina’s, he snuggled back into his blankets and closed his eyes.

Take comfort when and where you can.

5:42pm Sovereign Earth time

11/11/43

“You did what? You m-m-murdered them?!” Nadine screeched at him.

“I traded murderers for vital resources. Even now Srit’s people are installing a new server. One that I can prep to take up the role of the medical server. It’ll take time to figure out what to install and how to install it, but I can give it a full basic medical server image. Even with the base release programming, it’ll be leaps and bounds beyond what this game can handle and provide.”

“YOU T-T-T-TRADED PEOPLE’S LIVES AWAY, RUN-N-NER!” Nadine shouted.

Thankfully they were situated in their campsite. The ability provided privacy in a place where one would not expect it. Thana, Hannah, and Katarina had taken his news with stoicism. Thana looked a little concerned over it, yet was probably weighing it out against the benefits.

“Rabbit, please, don’t shout at me. I did. I’m responsible for many lives. Many, many lives. I traded six lives for the sake of over four hundred thousand. I’m the one who has to live with that, not you. Am I happy with it? No. I’m not,” Runner hissed at her.

“Do I regret it? I regret only that I didn’t take action previously. When the knights found them, they were standing over two corpses. Corpses of little traveling merchants like you. That, according to those murdering bastards, had nothing but bread and some coins. I let them go once, and it cost at least two more lives.”

Runner stopped, his shoulders hunched as he spoke in a poisoned voice.

“I sold their worthless lives away, Rabbit. I sold them away at the steep price of my own soul and well-being. I’m also ninety percent closer to getting everyone out.”

“Runner! This isn’t like you. This isn-n-n’t you. You’re better than-n this.”

“No. I’m not. It pains me to disappoint you, Rabbit, but this is only going to get worse. I’m going to lead an army into combat and get people killed. Black and white morality has no place here. The humans were attacked first, without warning. They’re counterattacking. We’re technically not in the right here, and hundreds will die.”

Biting off a dark laugh, he shook his head, turning to leave the camp. He didn’t feel like sleeping right now. Sleep brought its own problems. There would be only nightmares waiting for him in sleep
.