Viscus passed by many mechanics, most of whom appeared to have just clocked in. His eyes skimmed over their faces, but he couldn't discern who was who, not when more than half of them held chilly gazes upon spotting him. Steps hastened, and those who stood in his way were either shoved or were quick enough to make space for him.
Aggression was never his first choice, but some just stared him in the eye, unmoving, and he wasn't stopping for anyone. The blond felt his blood boil with each pair of eyes he registered. They knew what they were doing, and they weren't stopping. They wanted him out, and he would oblige.
He didn't need them, and neither did they need him. It was simple, and it made the decision all the more easier.
Within a minute of leaving Tricky's room, he was finally standing in fresh, rust-flavored air. The sun was bearing down on him, but it was still gathering its courage. Viscus had no plans of standing in its light and continued his march, but the few steps he took hadn't brought him far enough to prevent two hands from landing squarely on his shoulders, stopping him.
For a single, brief moment, his mind considered shrugging them off and walking, but his mind was slower than his body. Near instantly, Viscus hopped away from the offending limbs, slapping them away before sliding a dagger out of his inventory at ready. He heard a snarl, only to realize it unconsciously came from his own body, but he ignored it for the sake of the two enemies in front of him.
A mohawk of green hair and one pile with orange to red gradient stood out, his mind registering them to be the leaders of the group, Diver and Ive. Diver grasped his own wrist, rubbing it with surprise in his eyes, while Ive had reacted fast enough to avoid the blond's retaliation, and something reflected a danger in his eyes, putting the blond even more on guard.
"You alright?" Ive whispered to his friend while taking a step forward, shielding him from Viscus's glare. Two soft "Yeah" were muttered, the voice tinted with disbelief.
"Viscus," the larger of the two, Ive, growled. "Explain yourself."
Narrowing his eyes, the blond shifted in place, his sight flickering left and right. The grip on his dagger tightened, and he debated pulling out a gun as well, but he had no idea whether that was the correct choice. Tricky was banned from guns, but there was no guarantee the rest were.
"One last chance," Ive's honey-colored eyes glowed, and he took one more heavy step forward, the sand blowing from the force of it. "You're acting unreasonable, and I'd rather hear you out first."
"Shut. Up." Viscus gnashed his teeth. "I'm leaving."
When he took a step backward, Ive took one forward, and when that dance repeated twice more, he paused, his muscles tightening. Instinctually, his mind screamed at him to lunge, to make the first move. It looked no different from the start of a fight, but the level the System supplied caused his survival instincts to blare instead.
[Ive (Human) Lv. 19 | AP 100%]
Viscus knew his upper limits were around the Lv. 15 mark, and even then, he would barely exit the fight with a sliver of health, if he even survived. He could never forget the way the Hoarder leader manhandled him, and to see someone even stronger standing right in front of him?
Patience was running out, and it wasn't Viscus's. Ive's hands clenched, his eyes glowing further, as if it was filled to the brim with light. "You don't come in here, vow to never harm us, join our family, and then do the exact opposite of that days later!"
"We saw good in you, but you betrayed our trust. You nearly injured one of our men for just grabbing you, and we-"
"Ive, wait," Diver took a step forward with his wrist no longer in grasp, but a distinct sharpness in his eyes. "Viscus, I saw your earnestness when you spoke to me. I looked into your eyes, and I understand what I've seen. What I'm seeing. Why don't we go inside for a few minutes for some tea, have a calm chat?"
Diver's soft tone contrasted with the hard glare Ive was giving the blond. In another world, Viscus would have imagined himself taking the offer, going in, and talking - but for what? They had barely anything but the junk to offer him, and he would even be losing due to the waste of time they would enforce on him. And that's not even considering the danger of such an idea.
The thought of being in an enclosed space with Ive looming over him simply was as much of a deterrent as the terrible cost-benefit of staying. Outside, he could run away, but inside, he was doomed.
Viscus shook his head, his eyes repeatedly glancing between Diver and Ive, but focusing on one for a few more seconds at a time than the other. In the edge of his vision he noticed men streaming out of the warehouse, some apparently more armed than the others, but their stances, the way they were tensed, he knew. Viscus knew.
"I'm leaving."
"I thought I was wrong" Ive's fists trembled. "I thought we were wrong. Why in Oum's name are you doing this?"
The Gamer stayed silent, half his sight covered by his skill list, while the two leaders couldn't help but shiver from the cold glare. Viscus's chest rose and fell with a rhythm, its speed going up by the second. He shut his eyes and pursed his lips, the dagger's handle in his hand nearly snapping.
With a deep exhale, he stared at the two, his lips pressed in a line, "Look around you."
They blinked, but their gaze stuck to him, unmoving. A gaze not too dissimilar to the ones he encountered while entering and leaving, causing his poorly maintained calmness to wash off. Anger overtook whatever reason he had, and he roared, "Look around you, damnit!"
They didn't, because they knew. He knew they knew about the men's opinions of him.
"Viscus, have you heard about the killer roaming the streets at night?"
That threw the blond off his game for a moment, but not more, "What? What are you-"
"Wait," Viscus realized. "You're accusing me of being that guy, aren't you, Ive?"
"I'm not accusing anything," the words he heard translated differently in his brain. "What I'm saying is that at some point, a blond, Atlesian guy appeared within the community, and not too long later, some gangs dropped like flies."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"We've seen the records, and we've seen the masked blond display certain unique things, like the color of their Aura, or the way you pulled your dagger out of nowhere…"
"Ive, hold-"
The Gamer couldn't register any more words. They knew it was him, no other way about it. He was trapped. His head wildly turned, and he saw himself surrounded. Most of the men had their hands near their guns, ready to draw at a moment's notice, but he wouldn't let them.
He would have to fight, but he needed an opportunity. A single chance.
"Viscus, you're not that guy, right?"
The silence echoed louder than any answer could, and with it the blond deposited his dagger in his inventory, the act causing them to flinch. Not a second later did the trio hear a yell from behind from a familiar voice, startling most of them nonetheless.
"Guys! Hold on!" the orange haired mechanic spoke, causing everyone to look at him. "I think this was a misunder-"
With a glint in his eye, the blond dropped a glowing yellow canister, the thud alerting the mechanics, and causing their eyes to widen.
"Don't-"
The world rumbled as if a thunderbolt had struck, explosion blasting into the trio with arcs of lightning flowing endlessly from the yellow core. The surrounding mechanics had to duck, jump, and roll, or hide if possible, and when it was done and settled, they all lifted their heads and stared where the blond once stood, the smell of burnt plastic wafting through the air.
The two leaders, one covering the other, coughed as the dust dissipated, revealing scorched ground where the canister once sat, and nothing where the blond once stood.
-CEM-
His mind was filled with expletives as his legs brought him faster than ever toward the exit. The maze of trash was nothing in the face of his memory, or the minimap in the corner of his vision.
At times, the map was disorienting, but he didn't have to look, not when he was easily able to manoeuvre through. His ears quickly picked up the rumbling noise of an engine, and from a corner appeared a motorcycle. It was coming straight at him, so he hurriedly stuck himself to one of the piles, out of the biker's way.
Thankfully, it passed by him without stopping, so he took a deep breath and continued on his escape, vowing to never return to this place again. How could he, when they practically unmasked him - when they nearly tricked him.
Diver's words echoed in his ears, soft and full of worry, but not for Viscus, never for him. He realized as his legs took him back into the open streets and toward the hotel that the mechanics' leader knew what he was doing, and the blond nearly fell for it. The allure was there, but he was right in declining, even if the reason wasn't obvious yet.
They knew who he was, yet they invited him inside for a 'calm' chat. A chat. With a compound filled with armed gangsters and someone with enough levels and Aura to crush him twice over. He chuckled, not out of humor, but out of sheer disgust.
It was obvious as day - they were gangsters. Part of a gang, working for a gang, friends of a gang, the clues were all here, yet he believed. They acted as if not part of one, they looked as if they didn't dabble in the shady parts of business, but that was a lie, wasn't it? They helped fix up the Blues' vans, they were all armed to the teeth, and no doubt, they also supplied other gangs with tech and danced in whatever business opportunities a mechanic could enjoy.
Viscus's memory surfaced, and he remembered when he asked Diver to join the group. The words glossed over his mind at the time, but now they felt as if the memory was actively shooting him for making such a rookie mistake. He, the gang leader, said it loud and clear - that Viscus was becoming "part of the gang, part of the family," and the Gamer was in such a rush that he couldn't even pick it up.
Viscus hated Vacuo. He despised the place, for everything it stood for, for its rampant anarchy and poor maintenance. For its laughable technologies, for its terrible culture, for-
For everything.
Places like Vacuo shouldn't exist. By all rights, they shouldn't stay afloat, yet they did. But for what? For what reason did this cesspit live on after it became nothing but a decoration compared to what the rest of the kingdoms had become. He thought he found someone different, that they were not a gang, that he wasn't associating with the wrong people. Yet, he was, and he always would.
No one in this city wasn't associated with a gang, faction, or whatnot. By this point, wouldn't the huntsman academy be, too, considered a gang on its own? Only residing over a limited area of town, and barely present in other places in a manner no different to a gang?
Viscus bumped into a wall in his rush, but confusion took over as he remembered he wasn't walking in any way toward a wall. When he refocused his vision, he realized he hit something akin to a wall, rather, someone with glowing Aura. His System supplied him with 'Huntsman-in-training,' and that was as much as the Gamer had to read before he promptly apologized and scurried off, trying his best to hide his features.
For as much as he tried, he couldn't keep his expression in check. His teeth exposed, and his nails dug into his palm, and no deep breath could calm him in his current state. How could it, when he knew he was so weak that a mere gang leader could scare him. That an average huntsman-in-training was miles ahead of him in experience and gear.
No matter what, he needed to break through the next milestone. The quest loomed over him for as long as he was in Vacuo, the city, and its rewards promised more. If the first quest had given him Aura, and the next would give him his semblance, then what would the one after grant?
He needed to level up. He needed his semblance. He needed the System's assistance, because he had no one else to rely on. He had himself, but he was weak. The System wasn't. It was his path to leaving this accursed world, and it was his key. The path was lit up, clear as day, yet not solid. Immaterial, but a problem easy to solve.
His path would be highlighted in blue, his steps landing over liquid made of crimson and a hazy cloud of black.
But the black ichor would have to wait, because he wasn't ready. He had no weapons with enough power to combat the creatures of the dark, but that would change soon. Tonight, or the night after at most, he would reach level 10, no matter the cost.
Viscus, the Gamer, was done being a punching bag. He was done being betrayed, being tricked, and never being able to retaliate. He didn't deserve it - he deserved none of it, yet this world treated him like an outsider. Because he was. He was an outsider, and he couldn't comply with their lifestyle, their loose morals, and their endless greed.
His calls for help went unnoticed. Worse, ignored, or even mocked. When he asked - when he pleaded for a job, he was met with absolutes. When he did finally find someone to help, they demanded more out of him after he did them a favor. And when he finally found a place that seemed accommodating, he was proven more and more that Vacuo was never one to be trusted. Neither could his judgement, apparently.
Yet, his judgement was infinitely more reliable than anyone in Vacuo ever was.
The hotel door closed with a slam, and he steadied himself. No more joking around. No more asking for help. No more looking for work. No more rest. No more.
No. More.
-CEM-
The Gamer had opted to set out two hours earlier than his usual, the energy boiling within his body urging him to leave. He fought the urge as he relentlessly prepared, his mind playing out scenarios, and not all of them were favorable.
He had no need for these thoughts, not when there was no other option but to win. He was living no game - there was no save and load, and he held no illusion of omnipotence. Even if his power was limitless in potential if the Gamer literature was of any use, it was limited in scope. If a skill of his was already at its maximum level by 20, then how limitless was such a System? But even if it was limited, even if it was weak, that would stop him not from making his best use of it and going back home.
The streets, loud and as lively as day, were not considered in his eyes, and never would be. Innocents would never be his targets, and that's excluding the fact that him making an appearance like so would heap the might of an army on his head. An army of Aura users, with power he could only dream of. But there would be no dreams waiting for him if he did so, only the tight, cold embrace of the grave.
The bustle eased off, slowly, but there was always a hint of its existence. No matter where he was, if he strained his ears, he could always hear a faint song or two. It felt as if he was in the dead streets, distant as they were, but not far enough. The edges were still populated - People were marching, strolling, or doing something within the alleys. Unconsciously, his vision, with the help of the moon, exposed what was in such alleys, and he retched on principle.
His steps, fast, went faster. His arms, steady, became jittery. He felt his heart beat in anticipation. But it wasn't excitement. It wasn't eagerness or out of a deep superficial desire. It was because he was doing what he should have never needed to do, what a person should never come close to doing. Yet a simple fact and reality in such a world, in such a city, there was no other option.
He opened his inventory, eyes skimming over the piles and piles of guns, ammo, and melee weaponry. Many of these guns were useless, and that wasn't because of an innate issue with the guns themselves. Rather, it was the lack of ammo sitting inside them, and the lack of time for him to reload.
The Gamer had always opted for taking out another gun because he had no time to focus on one. Even if their magazines weren't filled to the brim, he could always rotate them, and if he had no ammo to even reload with, he could easily begin disassembling them in his free time.
Free time that he didn't have. There was always something to do, and to improve his [Crafting] skill was of lower priority than he first deemed it to be. It was something for him to do in his leisure, to tinker around and play. Vanity. He didn't need a special weapon, because he could always have ten more from his hunts.
Glancing at the minimap, he couldn't help but feel confused as he took in the street he was standing in, and the unfamiliar density of people roaming around. The Gamer looked again at the map, and it assured him that he was most definitely where no activity should have been.
Cursing, he glanced around to find a reason for such liveliness, but it wasn't until he looked up that he understood. The moon stared back at him, and he could have tricked himself it was the same as his from home, but its crumbling visage was ever present. Standing close but not yet where it should be at midnight, half of it was lit, though he could see the edges of light encroaching on the darker side.
The moon, to him, was a mark. It was a story in its own right, a tale giving meaning to what power could reach. To leave such an effect, to have the power to do so. Strength. Pure, unadulterated might, and none of it was his. The two immortals had a taste of what opposing such power might entail, and they were left with endless suffering.
Grinding his teeth, the blond continued on his way to find a place less populated. His movements grew more erratic, and his eyes captured what his ears alluded to, but what more than rats and sand did he expect?
The Gamer coughed, then sighed. From alive to dead, the streets confused him even more. He couldn't spot a single soul where he once hunted, and it reminded him of the night prior, of the fruitless search till dawn.
He couldn't waste any more time. If his night was a repeat of the last, if it ended with nothing but failure, then he would go mad. He was already going mad at the idea of wasting time, so he had to make a choice.
The Gamer listed them in his head, the two options, and he knew what he would pick. He could hope and continue searching, the safety of finding isolated groups never losing allure, but he hasn't forgotten. The new base he had assaulted the night prior, he could remember the trucks, the grenades, the rifles, and the lives. The people he had killed and who had almost killed him.
His legs were taking him there before he could formulate a decision, because there were no such options. He had no choice but to double down, but he shouldn't do it like his modus operandi. He shouldn't waltz in like he owned the place, not unless he wanted to turn into nothing but paste.
The Gamer closed in on the location, his repeated scans making sure he wasn't monitored until he found himself close, and the telltale sign of a gangster made its appearance. They were loitering around, their numbers no different from those in the less lively streets, but to him, they were screaming their occupation.
The blond would look at the scene in front of him and pack up within an instant if it was his usual nightly hunt. It wasn't, and this time, they weren't his targets, not those groups. He had eyes on a bigger prize, and looking up, he knew how to get it. Ignoring the thugs who now had him in their sights, he entered the alley, one he could never forget - the one where they tried to blow him up.
He dragged his sight over the walls until he found the imprints from where he dug his hands. A deep breath was all he needed before streaming Mana down his limbs and jumping. He ascended two floors, and as soon as he felt gravity fight to take hold, he rammed his fists into the wall, bringing him to a halt. He then heard footsteps approaching, but he had already begun his climb.
By the time they were at the entrance of the alley, he was dragging his legs over the roof's wall, and he couldn't help but let himself fall onto the dusty floor while huffing. When he wasn't in a life or death situation, the act of looking down from such an unstable position made him gulp and rush to the top.
After a minute, he was back on his feet, and he dared not look back. His face, now as white as the moon, reflected none of his emotions. The Gamer crossed the roof until he was met with a wall separating the building he was standing on with another, and a quick jump was all he needed to bypass it.
Such was repeated until he was only two buildings away from where he had to go, but the path was cut off by an alley making a fissure too large for a man to cross. The blond swept his gaze over the roof and to the side, but he couldn't find any other way to continue.
A bulb lit up as he scanned the roof itself, but he found himself disappointed when he found nothing to bridge the gap, so he was left wondering. The gap was too large for a man to jump, and the building in front was taller than the one he was on.
Yet, the Gamer was no ordinary man. Not by virtue of the title, but by virtue of being stronger than the average citizen. Taking a deep breath, the blond gathered strength in his legs, a blue glow overtaking them, and he made the leap. It was two meters across, and a whole floor and a half higher, but he knew it was possible
His jump was as high as the one he made from ground, and his hands found purchase over the half-wall. Sweat made a counter-argument, however, and he felt himself lose grip and begin to slide, his legs flailing about.
Gritting his teeth, he retracted one arm and his grip with the other weakened faster, but more power was the solution. He dug his hand back into the wall, splaying his fingers to tighten his hold, and that allowed him to raise himself high enough to finally pass.
Once he was on solid ground, he glanced at his Mana and frowned. From the few simple applications, he had found himself at a loss of 30 MP, and that was after it recovered in between his uses. It made him doubly sure he needed to find a way to raise his Mana-related stats other than manually adding points into them.
Hurriedly, he took a seat and began his [Meditation], and slowly but surely he felt himself ease into it. Once his eyes had opened, the blond stood up and passed over to the next building until he found a light blare from his target's roof access.
Panic overcame the blond until he realized the man was talking to a scroll. He crouched as best he could to avoid the man's gaze, but roused the Mana in his body in preparation to fight if detection was inevitable. Hurriedly, he glanced around to find any cover, but there was only a short line of bricks standing between him and the thug, forcing him to curse in his mind.
"C'mon, honey. You know.."
The Gamer stilled as the man's body faced him, but he dared not move, not yet. The scroll was separating their gazes, so he held himself, even if every instinct was telling him to lunge, to take down the man when he was isolated, and he would have had the distance not been so big, and he wasn't on call with someone.
The blond didn't focus on the conversation, but on the man's movements. And the thug was none the wiser, turning so that his back would face the Gamer, but he held his hand. Rather than continue the conversation on the roof, the thug clicked his tongue and stepped back inside, failing to notice the breath of relief that followed.
The brown eyes beneath the mask sharpened, and the blond slowly crossed over till he was just a few steps away from the access. Before he went inside, he leaned over the half-wall and couldn't help but gulp, thankful that he was successful in sneaking.
On the ground stood groups of men, and this time they were clearly prepared for a fight. Not all were armed with rifles, but a quick use of the System showed an average level of 4 and above, and that terrified him.
He glanced at the building he had just hopped from and thought to himself. He could leave, and there would be no trace of his presence. He didn't have to do something so reckless, but he would be lying to himself if he agreed with that statement.
The Gamer stared at the roof access before slowly walking toward it. There was no quicker way, and speed was what he needed the most. With a dagger in hand, he observed the steel door in front of him and hesitantly touched it. He hoped the door wouldn't have been locked, so when it creaked open, he tensed, then opened it as fast as he could.
"No going back from this," he muttered to himself, then stepped into the darkness.
-CEM-
Descending into the abyss was difficult. Lack of light and inability to see in the dark both played a role, but the blond attempted to rectify it three steps in. Like the thug that had walked the path before him, he took out a scroll and began fiddling with it, but when it lit up like a flashlight, he couldn't help but reluctantly turn it off and store it back in his inventory, a frown hidden behind the mask.
From where he was standing, he saw no light. At least, none close enough to illuminate even the lowest step, so that meant any light not accounted for would alert the base within an instant. Clicking his tongue, the Gamer tapped on the dusty wall next to him, then closed his eyes.
After a few moments, he opened them with an idea in mind. Raising one hand in front of him, he streamed Mana into it with the purpose of lighting up rather than strengthening. A soft glow enveloped his limb, but it felt no different to an empowerment, and the amount of Mana drained proved it to be so.
Humming, he thought about creating a small [Mana Bomb], but when he remembered the restlessness the bomb had when he delayed its launch, he erased the idea from his mind. He would rather not blow himself up, and he didn't have any better options, causing him to grimace.
The Gamer nearly pulled out the scroll out of sheer frustration until an outlandish thought came to mind. Since both animals and faunus enjoy night vision, he entered into his [Mana Vision] for precision. With as much control as he could muster, he slowly rerouted some Mana toward his eyes, and he only felt a hint of warmth at first.
The warmth rose into heat, and the heat turned into searing pain, causing him to shut off the operation and groan while grasping his head, a headache arising with a magnitude he only felt at the rarest of occasions.
As the headache rose in intensity, so did the burn in his eyes, and he held back a scream as he felt his eyes practically balloon until he heard a pop. He clenched his teeth, painfully huffing and groaning until he felt the Mana settle into its usual pathway, but with an added connection to his eyes.
The Gamer took a forced, deep breath before opening his eyes, and he had to shut them again due to the contrast in his vision. As the pain eased, he slowly lifted his lids in a manner not unlike a camera's shutter. Where there was once darkness, light replaced it, though color couldn't be distinguished in his current state.
Glancing at the skills list, he noted the addition of [Night Vision], a tint of confusion as to why this act lead to the creation of a skill and not his typical empowerment, but he pushed it off for another time and slowly made his way down the stairs, the echoes of pain still ringing in his mind.
The newfound sight disoriented him as blue filled his vision, but he drudged on, dust flying with each step. His body was coiled, and his arms were taut, ready for an unknown, ready to spring at a moment's notice.
Each step marked his path, and steadily the staircase began to regain its color, a light from downstairs allowing him to turn off his skill and cringe at the cost. While not as much as his usual empowerment, it did still eat through a hefty amount of Mana, but he had no time to sit down and take a breath. Voices could be heard from where he crouched, the concrete portion of the railing hiding him from any peering eyes, but he doubted they could see him, not when he was still standing in the darker portion of the building.
As his feet struck the last step down from the access, he noted he could continue downwards, or explore the floor in front of him. The Gamer pondered for a grand total of three seconds before he was inside the hallway. His new skill came into play once again, and he found himself standing in front of three open doors. Not all were wide open, but he could spot the crack in two, so he headed on and found himself standing in one of these rooms.
Empty, abandoned, dirty, and stale were all viable words to use to describe the room. Wraps for food, cigarette packs, and suspicious stains were all that decorated the place, so he did a 180 and silently shut the door behind him, only to realize that the door itself had no working knob. It creaked open into its typical resting position, and he winced.
Gulping, he stared at the stairway, hoping that no one would have heard or decided to check out the noise. 30 seconds were all that he waited before releasing the breath he was holding, and he moved onto the next room, though this time with tempered expectations.
When that second room yielded nothing, he groaned inwardly then stared with a deep desire at the barely lit stairway, but after a couple deep breaths, he controlled himself and entered the next room, and for that he found things other than junk.
Things that he had no way of using, that was. Boxes filled with light bulbs, boxes filled with nails, and wooden boards among others. He sighed, moved out, and began his descent toward the next floor. He couldn't ask himself why this place looked so abandoned. Maybe the building itself wasn't in use before the new gang moved in?
Clicking his tongue, he left the items untouched, a glare in his eyes. Once he was halfway to the next floor, he froze as he heard voices, and light from within the hallway had him slowly pull out a dagger. Gradually, he moved onward until he was standing in the hallway. He slunk his way toward the lit up room, his grip on the dagger tightening, and his Mana circulating faster.
"Man, she just doesn't get it," a thug spoke, his voice similar to the one the blond had heard on the roof.
"'Think you're right about that. It isn't like the lien you're getting won't let her live her life."
"Makes me regret.."
A quick glimpse showed the two busy working on something. When the mask peeked from the doorway, he registered that they were working on assembling furniture. One was crouched and tightening a nail between the bed frame pieces, while the other was working on a table.
After glancing around to make sure there was no one else but the two, the blond made his way inside, and the two were unaware of his presence until one paused, his face following a shadow, "You done with-"
Before the man could even turn toward the Gamer, a dagger sunk into his skull, and the sound alarmed the guy working on the bed. Twice he blinked, and the third registered the flying body zooming at him. By the fourth blink, the thug had broken through the bed frame and struck the wall with a groan, but he couldn't say another word before the Gamer was on him, and red soon spurted from the thug's neck with a gurgle. Two more stabs a second later and the man's head drooped, his wide eyes lifeless.
Hurriedly, the blond grabbed any valuables the two had then left the room. The other doors hid nothing else of value but more boxes of furniture and whatnot. Clearly, this base was turning residential, at least in the upper floors, but his hunt wouldn't end here. He had until the ground floor to explore, and more levels to gain. He wasn't leaving until the place had run out of men, he was level 10, or he was nearly dead.
A few more kills would propel him into level 9, but until then, he had work to do. His sight turned to normal as he inched closer to the floor below, the light enough to stop him from wasting any more Mana. He heard a hum deeper within, but he wouldn't trust that there was only one person. The hum turned into a tune as the sound of a song came into life, and that allowed him to pinpoint the source.
The last door was wide open while the rest were shut, and a weak tug showed that they were securely closed. The Gamer held no desire to force himself inside and alarm the entire base with the noise, but maybe later he'd be able to learn lockpicking or a System-assisted skill that allowed him to bypass locks.
With an exhale, the blond looked into the room to find a man sitting on a chair and staring into his scroll. Rather than search further, the Gamer hid behind the wall, but a "Huh?" had him curse under his breath. Looking down, he saw his shadow peek in front of the open door, and he knew he messed up when the man turned off the song and began approaching.
"Come up from behind the wall, I can see you. If you're tryna do some prank on me, then now is not the time," the man growled, and the blond gulped. "You know what I'll do when I find you, so-"
As soon as the man was within range, the Gamer jumped from behind the wall and tackled him, a surprised squeak sounding. The two tumbled to the ground, but the blond had the upper hand, the dagger stabbing directly into the man's eye. When the dagger stopped just a centimeter above the eye, the blond's own eyes widened.
"Fuck you!" the Aura empowered thug slapped away the Gamer's dagger with one hand and whacked him in the face with the other.
Grimacing, the Gamer fell on his back, but he spied the thug pulling a radio from his belt. His heart hammered, and he forced himself up within an instant. Lunging at the thug, he heard the man speak a word before pausing, the thug dodging the blond's telegraphed strike and countering with a kick of his own. Grasping his stomach with a groan, the Gamer quickly heard the words that he wished to prevent, and the radio clicked before the man began his followup, and that was the mark of the blond's free trial ending.
Gritting his teeth, the blond blocked the incoming barrage of punches, but one attack slipped past his guard, a kick not unlike the one he had just experienced. Ignoring the pain, the blond took out a metal pipe and swung at his opponent, his eyes widening. The metal bent as it met the thug's forearm, his grimace echoing the Gamer's.
A kick was the blond's response, targeted at the thug's shin, followed by a barrage of bullets that no doubt would have alerted the base - if it already wasn't. Cursing, the thug abandoned defense and pressed the attack, putting a lot of trust in his Aura. That was his mistake as the blond bashed the empty gun onto the thug's head, a "Wuh!?" sounding from the man before his legs were swept from below him.
With the guy on the floor confused, the Gamer summoned a ball of Mana in his hand and stuck it into his opponent's face. Terror could be felt as the sphere approached, and the man rushed to bat the blond's arm away, but a free hand had grasped the thug's, and the ball touched face.
An explosion shook the building as the Gamer found himself flung out of the room, the wall cracking as he slammed into it. When he reoriented, he couldn't help but grimace at the lack of an experience notification. Before he could get up, he heard footsteps from the opposite end of the hallway, and a horde of men streaming up the stairs.
Reacting wasn't an option, not when the thug dashed out of the room, out of the smoke, and tackled the Gamer, shoving him through the concrete into a dark room.
A yell of pain escaped the blond, but it was silenced as he was flattened to a wall, and his head rang as a fist slammed into it. The thug retracted it for another attack, but a shimmering barrier ate the blow, and the thug hissed. Taking the chance, the blond grabbed his opponent by the head and had his own meet it. The mask transmitted the pain, but it was clear from the thug's disorientation that the force had been directed correctly.
The Gamer then proceeded to pummel the thug, anger in his grunts, and the repeated shots to the head barely gave his opponent the chance to counter. With a jab followed by an uppercut, the two were only steps away from crossing the broken wall and into the light, and that was when the thug noticed a glint in the Gamer's eyes a moment too late.
One wrong step had him trip across the uneven break in the wall, the bricks cracking as he fell, and the blond pounced on him with fervor. As soon as his head touched the ground, the blond smashed it further into the floor with a glowing hammerfist. Surprisingly, blood began seeping under the Aura, but the Gamer couldn't consider it for long as he felt bullets pepper him. Growling, he dragged the half-conscious man in an attempt to replicate a meatshield, and that forced the thugs to stop shooting and return back to hiding.
Frowning, the blond glanced at his resources, and he made the decision. With the thug in his arms, he dashed ahead, and he could hear the men scramble to get away. A tiny smirk below the mask formed, and he was soon face to face with thugs on opposite sides of the stairs - some up and some below.
On one side he held the Aura empowered thug, and with the other he shot at the men trying to hit and run. After the gun ran out, he began to feel the thug stir back to competency, and that forced the blond to shove him off the rails.
Half a second after the throw, the Gamer heard a scream followed by a loud crack, and he felt the fight pause as the gangsters watched while their companion fell, his head smashing into one side of the stairs. Aura shattered on the next, then he fell head first into the ground floor. A meaty crash echoed in the stairway amidst the chilling silence, the twisted body gradually sliding to a halt.
"Holy shit," a thug muttered, then screamed as he saw someone next to him drop dead not a moment later.
The blond forced the fight to resume, but he didn't comprehend the numbers the gangsters had until he saw over 10 rifles stare him down the eye. He couldn't even gulp as the first bullet smashed into him, so he ducked while running back into the hallway. He couldn't fight in open space, and he didn't have as much Mana as he wanted. Blasting them with [Mana Bomb] was an option… for all of two moves. His [Night Vision] followed by this fight had drained him of practically half of his Mana, and patience was not going to reward him.
That was especially more true when he heard a clattering in front of the room he hid in, and he had the object in his sight for a millisecond before light filled his eyes. He yelled out in pain and tripped over something. He was blinded, and the ringing in his ears, loud as it was, couldn't hide the rapid footsteps approaching.
[Gamer's Mind] kicked in, however, and he regained sight as soon as his opponents peered through the door, and he roared before bashing into the first person he saw. The rifle shot both at him then at the walls and ceiling as he crashed into the man, and the gangsters couldn't shoot at him faster than he could steal the rifle from his opponent's hands and direct it at the line of dead meat in front of him.
With a magazine larger than that of the pistols he had been using, and with a vastly different recoil as well, he shot for seconds until the gun clicked flat, and found that he had only killed four while the rest had retreated.
The man below him had knocked his head when he hit the ground, but he wouldn't be waking up any time soon, not after the Gamer caved his face in with a Mana empowered punch. Another flashbang entered the hallway, but expectation helped and he had averted his gaze quick enough, though the ringing wouldn't become familiar any time soon.
Pulling the body over his shoulder and with a new gun in hand, he staggered forward, a blaze in his eyes.
"I'll kill you all!" The Gamer roared, and the fight recommenced.
No. More
"T-tonight.. Tonight…" he gazed at the pearlescent white mask, his grasp tightening while his other hand wiped off a thin layer of dust. He felt his voice waver, but no more. "Tonight, a river will flow through the dry streets of this land, as colorful as the darkest rose."
And he would bathe in it.
-Oh how I wish I could have written it so.
So.. I wanted to talk about a few things (you can skip if you want).
Firstly, how to pronounce Viscus. Simple: Visc- like Disk/Disc, and -Us like the word Us, from the hit game..- A play on the word Viscous.
(Also sorry for a late response on that review, Pasta forgets to respond, but I'll endeavor to fix that for later releases).
Secondly, Pasta's been groaning over the chapter size. With only the first three scenes, I recall it being around 4.4 or 4.5k, and, typically, I'd have gone "Yes, that good," but that no good, not for my plan(s). In total, this chapter ends at just a few words above 7.4k. An achievement, but not something that sets a precedent.
For the third thing, ever since I finished this chapter, I had to rethink my next step, chapter 23. In reality, it was somewhat written within the months of my exams and I delayed its placement to make the story read better, but doubts began streaming in as I reconsidered what happened in 21 and 22, and whether current 23 is truly the right move.
Yet.. In the end, Pasta knows what has to be done, but does not know if the strength is within. Next chapter would be the end of this arc, and it will end with a bang, but..
I fear.
.. No more words to be said. No more hesitation. Next chapter is the end of this arc.
And all you need to understand is that it's all within the plan.
All within the plan.
Later, my dearest of friends.
And Sir David? My soul warms at your understanding. Thank you.