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Chapter 95: Choices
🕑 Added 2024-07-17 05:19:21 +0000 UTCWorld: MSS - Loading...
***
There was a sound.
Scuttling? Skittling? Crunching?
Rubbing my eyes, I awoke and immediately wished that I hadn’t.
Thousands upon thousands of insects had filled the bottom of the canyon. They were scurrying all over the corpses of the Scavengers, feeding. These insects weren’t just the creepy-crawlies from earth either, they were monsters. Man-sized critters tore into the corpses, their mandibles ripping soft flesh with abandon. Some of them hissed at each other, fighting over a bodyless head; the brain already nothing more than gray stringy gristle on the floor.
I saw two monsters play tug-of-war with a man’s corpse, ripping it in half and the innards splashing out on the ground with a wet splash. More than that, others simply feasted where they were; inhuman eyes staring at nothing with no thought behind them. Only endless hunger and a predatory impulse to feed on the rare buffet laid out before them.
I’d seen a lot of things since I’d come to this world.
But nothing like this.
I turned and lost the contents of yesterday’s meal.
Something hissed.
An insect monster, [Giant Beetle] of grade 10 was clawing at my temporary shelter, trying to bypass the translucent blue walls.
No, I was just panicking. The [Giant Beetle] climbed over the cube and continued on its way while carrying someone’s arm. It left streaks of blood, muscle and cartilage on the cube; also giving me a full view of its body underneath the shell.
I retched again.
When was the last time I’d been in a situation like this? No companions, no idea where I was and surrounded by strange monsters? I hadn’t chosen to come here, I was forced. And that scared me. It scared me because I was in a part of MSS that I had no idea about and that’s when bad things happened. Yet one thing was different.
I touched a hand to my pocket, feeling the dozens of Dimension Rings jingle around. They were the results of looting all the corpses yesterday.
I had lost count after the 102nd corpse.
Slowly, I took out the rings; putting them on one by one. Eventually, I found what I was looking for; a sword. A simple falchion. It wasn’t what I was used to, but it’d do.
I couldn’t stay here. I had to keep moving. There was the danger that the Gargantuan Death Worm presented, if it returned it would be death. Not because the monster would bother to pay attention to me, but because by just moving through the earth, it could bury me. Then there was the fact that there were other insectoid monsters present, who know what else could pop up.
With this many unknowns, I had to get out of here while I could.
Slowly, I touched my hand to the small cube of the Portable Temporary Shelter, noting that it had the number three on it. Before I had activated it yesterday, it had said four. So three more uses.
I took a breath to ready myself, then pressed down on it; turning it off.
The translucent blue walls came down.
Slowly, I began to walk through the feasting bugs.
Some of them moved aside as I came near them, gorging on the still bodies. Some of them hissed, covering the body with its body protectively.
As I walked, I saw some of the beetle-monsters burrow deep underground; bringing the corpses with them. Then there were monsters that I saw, laying slimy slick-coated eggs right next to the corpses and –I wanted to throw up again– in them. Eye sockets and mouths –any open orifice, really– served as nests for clusters of eggs. Furthermore, there were other monsters that were mating right in front of me.
Shuddering, I continued walking.
I walked for miles. Each pocket canyon was the same scenery, full of corpses being fed upon by insect monsters. I ignored the sounds, the otherworldly chittering sounds as they called to one another. Even when I came face to face with an insect monster, I stayed still; doing my best not to aggravate it. My fight or flight response screamed in agony; trying to get away from the monsters or cut it up into quivering pieces of chitin. But I resisted.
There were so so many of them.
Not only that… some of the eggs were hatching, feeding on the corpse and each other.
So I walked trying not to look too hard at anything. To keep myself busy, I counted each step. Whenever I lost count, I started over again.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that walk.
“10,982… 10,983… 10,984…” I whispered and stopped, finally seeing something in the distance that wasn’t an insect or a corpse.
A door.
Looking around, I saw that the insects were gone and so were the corpses. In fact, no longer was I in the makeshift canyon created by the Gargantuan Death Worm. I was in an entirely different place, a basement of sorts. I looked back and saw that about a hundred paces back, there was an opening. A break in the wall, barely big enough to be called an entrance, no doubt due to the rampaging worm.
I found a corner and sat in it, breathing hard.
There was a sense of relief in being someplace that was man made. It didn’t matter that unconsciously, I knew that this must be the Scavenger’s Clan Building in the Cliffs. Nor did it matter that anyone could come in through that basement and this place could be crawling with a hundred different types of creatures –the Scavengers. What mattered was the sense of familiarity, of being near civilization and other people.
The empty eyes of the corpses still lingered in my vision like fresh carcasses, so did the alien eyes of the insectoid monsters. The sound of tearing meat, the silent screams of horror…
Did I hear some of the corpses grunt? Fingers outstretched for help? Or was I just imagining it?
I tucked my knees in closer, trying to control my breathing.
I’d seen scarier things. Yes.
But there was so much death… and the raw reality of life. Not limited to MSS, but life in general; away from the rules of society, what happens to the weak. What had almost happened to me. If I wasn’t still holding onto the concentration technique which Arrosh taught me, I would have broken down long ago.
But now, I was safe.
The door next to me rattled, then opened.
“-always making me check the, –whut?”
He was a burly, unkempt bear of a man. Human. He had a bald spot on his head and was covered by thin strands of hair from the side. In that instant, my eyes absorbed all the details about him; his vanity in trying to hide his balding head with hair. His gut, which told me the life of pleasure filled with food, alcohol and most likely women. His eyes were beady and he had a somewhat pinched expression. His arms were huge, the fat hanging loose.
Dirt underneath his fingernails. The wave of musk and sweat that accompanied him into the room.
The way those dirty fingers scrabbled for the dagger at his waist and the panicked gleam in his eyes at seeing me huddle in the corner. Reflected in his pupils; I saw the mirrored version of my own movements from his point of view. My own form blurred, hands moving an infinite time faster than his. I slapped his hand away and drew his dagger; lunging upwards straight towards him.
His mouth opened to scream –perhaps to try and talk to me, or yell for help– but no words escaped his throat; only a gurgle of blood.
I rode him down to the ground, keeping the dagger fixed in his neck and shoved one fist in his mouth.
All the while, I stared into his eyes at the reflection of my own face.
Not the steady calm that I had come to expect of myself.
My eyes were just as fearful and shocked.
I stayed on top of him until the light in his eyes disappeared and his finger stopped twitching.
All that remained was my own breathing; tiny panicked wheezes.
I rolled off of him –no, it now– leaving the dagger stuck.
This wasn’t the first time I’d killed. Not by a longshot.
But it was the first I’d killed as a free man, as an adventurer.
I had killed dozens of orcs and the Akka Xalud soldiers on the way here. I had felt guilt and sorrow; but had soldiered on telling myself that it was necessary.
But this man just now wasn’t something like that. He wasn’t an orc slave master and we certainly weren’t at war. He was… just checking the basement of his Clan building.
It was just pure chance that we met.
I could tell immediately that he was weaker than me; definitely a lower grade adventurer. I could’ve disabled him instead of killing him. I could’ve knocked him out. But my hands moved on their own, choosing the fastest and most efficient course of action: lethality.
You know, I thought I was ready when I became an adventurer to face death. After all, I saw my own friend, Skaris, almost die right in front of me. I was fighting monsters daily, risking my life. I had told myself time and time again, that eventually I’d kill adventurers. It was a part of MSS. Sooner or later, someone would pick a fight with me and it would lead to bloodshed –and if enough wealth was involved, it certainly would not end with first blood.
It never did.
I thought I was ready. But I wasn’t.
But this killing combined with the insects broke something inside of me; it hardly mattered whether I was ready or not. Because my body had killed, without any input from my own head. I should be happy. This body that I had honed and trained had become what I wanted it to become: a weapon. A weapon that could stand against the mythical creatures in this world as well as its mortal inhabitants.
I didn’t think twice about it, by the gods, I hadn’t needed to think at all.
I felt sick.
But you know what the worst thing of it all was?
I was ready to do it again.
Like I said, I killed before. I had similar feelings back then to what I was feeling now.
‘Don’t try to justify it. Don’t tell yourself it was necessary or needed. There’s no need for guilt or pleasure. The moment you try to justify this killing with reasons will only turn it into excuses –something for you to use in the future to keep yourself from killing or the opposite, killing without discrimination. It is what it is; you’re a murderer. There’s no right or wrong about it, just a plain and simple fact.”
It took me a while to control my breathing.
I looked at the body again.
I wanted to look away.
But I forced myself to look. Absorbing everything from the dirty boots to the food stains in his beard.
He would never laugh again, talk again. If he had a family, those families would never see him again. They’d just live on old memories of him, telling themselves that was sufficient enough. I’d taken a loved one away from someone, a friend, a husband, a father, a son. I had snuffed out someone’s light in this world and there was no getting around it.
I just had to accept that.
Yeah. Don’t dig yourself into the rabbit hole; that’s how you’re gonna go on a crusade for your own sense of justice or become a serial killer.
I kept looking at the body, distancing myself from the morals of the murder while getting closer to the factual consequences of it. I’m not sure if that makes sense to you, and it sure as hell didn’t make sense to me. All I know is that it made me feel better; that I didn’t feel like a monster or a good guy. In retrospect, I actually didn’t need anyone to understand me; because then I felt that I was trying to shift a part of the consequences of my actions into the gray area we call right or wrong.
I just wanted to feel… ok with what happened.
And eventually, I did.
Slowly, I got up and went over to the body. I dragged it to a corner of the storage, taking his Dimension Ring. I looked at the blood on the floor, rubbed it with my boots and saw that the storage room was dusty enough so that no one would notice.
Then I opened the door of the Storage Room and headed into the Scavenger Clan’s hideout.
***
The subjugation party led by Marc Pointell arrived at dawn.
He had brought roughly 20 adventurers, all of them either Grade 4 or 5. Upon seeing Aurora and the others, he walked over.
The plain-faced man was dressed for battle; a brown robe with iron and leather buckles criss crossing across his chest. He greeted them with a simple wave.
“I had been looking for you. You’re one of the few independent parties in this region of Jayu.” Marc said without particular intonation.
Aurora understood what Marc was getting at immediately.
Basically, the Guild Master saw this Field Boss as a chance.
Slaying a Field Boss was no simple feat and the wealth resulting from it would surely attract attention; even without a Core drop. If they chose to, they could use a [Stasis] spell on the monster; forcing the monster to retain its corpse even after death. With the corpse, there would be plenty of materials to be sold plus there was always the chance that the Core was still there inside the monster. The only downside of a [Stasis] spell was the fact that there would be no chance of items or coins.
Marc Pointell no doubt tried to recruit some other Clans for this, but they most likely refused. Back in Turina, such a thing would be unthinkable. But in the Jayu States, the positions were reversed; the Clans held all the power while the Guild was powerless, all because of the lack of manpower. Those Clans probably asked for something in return, something prospesterous like all rights to Cores and Item drops, or 90% claims to the monster materials.
So the sad reality was that Marc Pointell had come here with Grade 4s and 5s, hoping that they’d be enough to defeat the field boss.
“We were waiting for you, Mr. Pointell.” Aurora walked up, acting as the de-facto leader of their party in Lock’s absence. She saw Kyrian frown at her but the kind-hearted mage did not interject.
Marc’s even gaze swept the party. “...Where is Lock Slaveborn?”
Aurora didn’t answer which was an answer unto itself.
Marc’s eyes turned sympathetic, though to those who didn’t know him they wouldn’t notice. “Body?”
“Not found. We wish to join the subjugation party and search for him after,” then Aurora ventured, “Your skills would be a great help.”
Marc blinked at her, speaking in a whisper. “You’re asking me for help?”
Aurora nodded.
He narrowed his eyes. “Child… I thought we agreed that you are not to-”
“You can be rest assured, I am aware of my dealings with you; Mr. Pointell. Now will you help us or not?”
“...If we still have all our limbs intact, yes. I can help you search for Lock, Ms. Vetilian.”
She winced as he said her bastard name.
After working out the logistics, Marc returned to the subjugation party to get places ready for them.
When Aurora turned around, everyone was sporting a different expression. Skaris was the same as yesterday, impatient and ready to explode. Kyrian was too good-mannered to ask her openly about her short conversation with Marc, but no doubt that the mage had an inkling about what the ‘deal’ they mentioned was. After all, he was a Turinan himself and no doubt familiar with her situation. Stole on the other hand was visibly struggling not to burst into questions.
Aurora sighed, wondering if this was worth the risk. Both politically and physically. Chances were high that Lock was already dead.
Still, a small voice inside of Aurora continued to whisper to her that he was alive; that through impossible odds, Lock Slaveborn would come out of that canyon. Bloodied and wounded, yes. But alive.
When she first met the man, he had been nothing more than a former slave turned adventurer, a common enough person in Jayu; the country of freedom.
It was simple curiosity at first.
Even before he showed signs of [Aura], he set himself apart from the others with his open-mind, clear-head and exceptional judgment making skills within the Fracture. Aurora was convinced that if it was not for Pyret’s party, Lock could have led them out of the Fracture with no casualties. But if that was it, he would not have grabbed Aurora’s attention. She had grown up around Scions of the Great Houses –bastard child she may be, her talented granted her access to all the training that others had.
No, what he showed her was more than just adventuring skills.
She remembered the scene between him and Skaris in the Twilight Maze.
Aurora had seen the visible turmoil in his face; he had known what the right choice was. She had seen him make other choices; he was highly efficient. Aurora had already prepared herself mentally for the beastman’s death, they hadn’t been close but had fought side by side together. She could lift up a prayer to the Flame on his behalf.
So she was shocked when Lock purposefully made the wrong decision, almost costing everyone their lives.
It went against everything that she had seen so far, no adventurer should make such a choice. And by all rights, they should all have been punished for his choice, left to die in that frozen Fracture.
But they were still alive.
Since then, she replayed that moment many times, wondering what she would do. And the answer was simple; she didn’t know.
Everyone she cared about had died long ago and the gods had never given her the choice that they gave to Lock.
Whether that was a blessing or a curse, she didn’t know.
She used [Aura] as an excuse to stick close to him, but truthfully she just had to know what kind of choice she would make. What would Aurora Candrian Vetilian do when it came time for her to choose between what was right and what was wrong? When the lives of the people she cared about was at stake? Would she do the right thing? Or would she break under pressure?
Never before had she had to answer this question, nor been exposed to the pains of weighing the lives of one against those of others. So Aurora, the bastard who had been touted as the Genius of the Great House of Vetilius, wanted to see more of what Lock Slaveborn would do. What struggles would come his way and how he would deal with them. How his choices would affect the people around him.
Choices… were something that she had been robbed of, long time ago.
***
Comments
Mordock 24
Aurora lore finally!
Terra
Haha that's some nightmare material right there. Imagine waking up to hundreds of bugs feasting around you. Now that's sick :p
