Chapter 11: Stereotypical (4)

‘We could do this,’ Jain thought.

Under the might of the Kristoff siblings and their Infernal Weaponry, bodies fell in waves.  Out in the open, these goblins were downright pitiful.  With the existence of light, and synonymously, the absence of darkness, they were no more dangerous than a rabid dog.  The only real threat was the weapon in their hands.  Like humans, these creatures were made of flesh –their dirt-caked nails no sharper than those of a man, and sharp canines no more dangerous than a wolf.

But that was nothing before the might of Blade, Guns and Sorcery.

The faintest glimmer of hope flared to life within Jain’s chest.

The [Goblin Warrior] appeared out of nowhere.  It wore a cloak and little else, dashing forward from the shadow  with controlled movements.  A stark contrast to its screeching brethren that charged forward with little thought for their safety.

It cut down Irina within seconds then promptly turned, blocking Natalia’s gunfire.

And ran straight towards the gunner.

“Sister!”  Lev cried out, his bone goblin bending low to the ground and skittling the distance between them.

The goblin warrior didn’t even take a second look, cutting it down with a single stroke of its sword.

Natalia fired another burst at the warrior but it was too quick, darting to the side.  With dark-purple skin and a beige cloak covered in grime, it was barely visible within the shifting shadows of the museum.

“Lev, the light!”  Natalia cried out.

Lev cursed from next to Jain, waving his hand and casting another [Light] spell that flared to existence. Jain shielded his eyes, seeing everything that was happening for the first time.

The sundress-wearing Russian fired again and again, doing so with a smile on her face.  One of the goblins got so close that she shoved the muzzle inside of its mouth and shot through the back of its head.  She proceeded to step on the corpse and use it as a footstand, continuing to fire at the shadows where the Goblin warrior was running.

Whatever effect that Lev’s [Light] spell had on the goblins, it was affecting the goblin warrior as well.  Albeit, to a lesser extent.  He ran along the walls, looking for an opening on Natalia.  But whenever she turned to stave off another wave of goblins from overwhelming the fallen Irina, Lev synchronized it with another cast of his [Light] spell.  The warrior would then hiss, retreating to the shadows and looking for another angle.

“Jain!”  Lev snapped.

“Huh?”  Jain muttered.

“Mana.”  He said simply.

Jain started like someone had slapped him.  He looked at Lev, like really looked at him.  The classy perfume model was gone and in his place was a weary looking young man, drenched in sweat from head to toe.  Lev cried out something between pain, anger and strain; casting another [Light] spell and keeping the goblin warrior off of Natalia.  Sweat dripped off his chin.

Mana.  Of course, how could Jain have missed it?  It was the basis of all games where spells and supernatural abilities made up the gameplay.  Not just the game, but the newfound instinct that had been present within him before that running out of Mana mid combat was a death sentence.

More gunfire as Natalia fired into the goblins.

She was still smiling fiercely, but there was a forced feel to it.

Jain had to do something.  But what could he do?

Natalia had demonic machineguns.  Lev had magic.  Irina had a bigass sword.

What the hell did he have?  The power to identify things?

‘The power… to Identify things.’  

The gun.

Jain turned and immediately sprinted away from Lev.

“What?”  Lev wheezed, drained by the repeated casting.  “Where are you, you trusliviy svoloch!”

It was something he had noticed from earlier.  But compared to Natalia and IRina, Lev’s russian was a little lacking.  Especially when it came to curse words.

The goblins that had been wary of Lev, found interest in the new prey that ran away from the source of light.  Namely, Jain.

‘So they can tell who the weak link is.’  If Jain had time, he would have smiled bitterly.  But right now, all his attention and energy were focused on his legs.

40m.  The length of two school buses.

That was the distance that Jain had to run.

The average person runs a 100-meter dash in between 15 and 20 seconds.  A 40-meter dash should take a little less than half that, perhaps six to eight seconds.

However, there were many things that Jain had to consider.  For one, his leg was still injured.  Yes, t’was a flesh wound.  But when dashing for your life, adrenaline can only do so much.  He pumped his legs, the imaginary pain accompanying the image of his cut being torn open gnawing at the back of his mind.  

Secondly, Jain wasn’t in shape.

After his psychic stint, he worked at a fast food restaurant.  The glorious golden arches.  Breakfast, Lunch were provided –as well as the occasional leftover for dinner.  He looked skinny on the outside and with clothes on, no one could tell he was wearing a flesh tube around his mid area.  As an afterthought, Jain noted with desperate humor that ‘round’ was indeed a shape.

And lastly, the goblins came out of hiding.

But none of those were things that were in the forefront of his mind.  Right now, Jain only had one thing in mind.

A goblin crawled out from behind a display case, tripping over its own legs and rubbing its eyes.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!”

Jain bowled over the first goblin.  Luckily, the creature was half-dazed.  They fell together in a tangle of limbs, clothes and weapons.  For a panic-seizing second, Jain saw the gleam of a knife as they fell.  The moment Jain’s shoulder hit the floor, he scrambled over the goblin and grabbed the knife.

Then he stabbed it in the throat.

Its bright yellow eyes stared into Jain’s.

“Ghk… Ghk…”  The grotesque humanoid tried to get something out, clawing with weakening hands at the blade.  The blood fountained out, getting all over Jain’s lower stomach and legs.

Slowly, its eyes clouded over and the flicker of consciousness faded.

Jain froze.

Natalia’s uzis spat fire, bright muzzle flashes bouncing off the walls and was followed by another glare of the [Light] spell.

With trembling hands, Jain wrenched the dagger out of the corpse.  He had to struggle to do so, almost falling flat on his face.  With the dagger in hand, he stumbled over to the display containing the pistol from before.

The display glass was already broken, leaving a hole just wide enough for Jain’s hand.  Without thinking, Jain reached inside and stopped.

The metallic gun trembled.

And Jain could feel the gun.

A wave of nausea and disgust scoured over him, scraping things raw and naked.  His eyes played tricks on him; dark-red tendrils sprouted from the gun, reaching out hungrily towards Jain’s own hand.  They curled in on themselves, shivering with anticipation.  The tendrils flashed, disappearing and reappearing, radiating with an emotion so pure that it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but.

Hate.

A loathing so deep that Jain jerked away from the illusionary limbs like he’d just been burned.

And just as quick, the sensation faded.  Faded but not forgotten, the visage of the tentacles remained burnt into his retinas and Jain just knew that the hate he felt from the gun had been real.  As real as the cut on his thigh, as real as the firm handle of the goblin’s dagger.  That the sickening pulse of tender revulsion would remain fresh in his mind as scars.

As real as the screaming of goblins and the slick taste of iron –blood– in his mouth.

The gun was alive.

And as Jain’s focus returned, he observed one more thing.

Above the gun was a small icon.  A cartoonish one, that he’d seen before.

The same treasure chest symbol that he’d seen floating above the head of the Kristoff siblings.

‘It’s this thing.’  Jain realized, ‘This is the treasure.’  

His ability: Saju.  The one that was synonymous with the phony fortune telling techniques that his mother taught him, predicting the ebb and flow of a person’s life.  Great wealth and misfortune.  Without a doubt, this was the great fortune, a precious item, that lay within the course of fate for the Kristoff siblings.

“IRINA!”  Lev’s voice cried out, followed by a flash of light so bright that it lit up the entire room in a blinding glean of pure white.  

More goblins screamed and another scream followed soon after, belonging to a woman.  

Natalia.

With his back turned towards the battle, Jain hadn’t been affected.  He squinted his eyes and a sense of urgency drove away the introspection.  Jain reached in, ignoring the red tendrils that appeared and grabbed the handle.

Like a handshake, the tendrils wrapped right around Jain’s hands and wrist, the tips stabbing into Jain’s arms.

And once more, Jain tried to let go.

But his fingers locked up, gripping the handle of the old war relic tighter in an ironclad grip.  Jain dropped the dagger in his other hand, trying to tear the gun out of his grip but his fingers were like rock, refusing to budge.

And what could only be described as awareness flickered into existence in the back of his mind.

It had no thought.  It had no direction.  It had no conscious directive.

Just pure raw hate, disgust, revulsion and loathing, all rolled into one, smelted down into its purest form and made into a pill.  A pill that Jain had to swallow.

There were no words to describe the experience.

[Achievement Unlocked!]

[Level Up!]

The system alerts popped up, more a subconscious knowledge than pop-up screens.  But it was enough to bring Jain back to reality for the umpteenth time that day.  With the return of his mental faculties, the gun’s sensation retreated from the forefront.  It hadn’t disappeared, not completely.  The cursed gun’s anger lurked below the surface of Jain’s mind, ready to overwhelm him at the slightest sign of weakness.

—

Name: P38

Grade: S-

Description

A cursed pistol with the emotions of its last wielder who took his own life.  Be careful, lest you find yourself consumed with its hate.  

Soul-Bound: Jain Templar

Effects

-Mind

-Spirit

[UNABLE TO IDENTIFY]

[UNABLE TO IDENTIFY]

…

[UNABLE TO IDENTIFY]

—

Information flooded into Jain’s mind and with it, a plan.

Jain turned and immediately ran.

His absence shouldn’t have changed the outcome of this battle.  It was a silent agreement among the Kristoffs not to count on Jain’s help, that he was a noncombatant.  But therein lay the weakness of their plan.  Even the greatsword wielding Russian had not foreseen just how accurate Jain’s prediction was, nor understood the depth of his understanding in the symmetry between Earth’s folklore and the current circumstance.  As a result, the three of them had focused on rushing through the goblin horde, not anticipating the appearance of a stronger one.

Jain was barely able to see; since Lev’s mana had run out, so had the supply of [Light] spells.  Only the soft smolders of still remaining light bulbs illuminated the scene.

Natalia and Lev stood together, standing over Irina’s fallen body.  Opposite of them, stood the Goblin Warrior and the remaining goblins behind him.  In between them was another of Lev’s skeleton goblins with a missing arm.

Even though Natalia had gunned down dozens of goblins, there were still about twenty left.  They howled and beat at their chests, but the Goblin Warrior’s stillness kept them at bay.  With Lev and Natalia looking worse for wear, it was obvious that there was only one ending to this stand off.

“Hey, Ugly!”  Jain yelled out, drawing attention from both sides.  “Yeah, over here!”  He cried as the Goblin Warrior cocked its head, leering at him.

Jain was already less than ten feet from the Goblin Warrior.

It turned to him, an expression eerily similar to a primate that was studying a new strange creature.  There was no doubt now, this creature was smarter than its lesser brethren. Probably the only reason why it allowed Jain to get so close; it was smart enough not to recognize Jain as a threat.

Jain shot it in the face.

For once Lady Luck was on Jain’s side, because he didn’t miss.

The gun went off like a muted firecracker, a strange punchiness to the sound.  One moment, the goblin warrior leered at Jain, not threatened at all. The next moment, it’s face collapsed into a horrendous amalgam of flaps of meat and bone.  The lower half of its jaw fell to the floor with a plop.

And its body followed soon after.

[Level Up!]

It happened so fast that the goblins didn’t even notice.

Well, Jain wasn’t about to stick around and wait.

“Pick up Irina! Go!”  Jain reached the Kristoffs, grabbing Irina and putting one arm over his shoulder.

Lev immediately picked up the other arm, supporting her weight between the two of them.  Jain had the same idea as he.  Right now, without mana, Lev was no better than Jain.  Natalia, from Jain’s understanding, could at least put up a fight even without mana.

Compared to Jain and Lev who were eager to get out, Natalia had no such qualms about sticking around.  She let out a naughty laugh that chimed like bells.  Yelling out a word in russian, she began shooting into the mass of goblins.  Unlike the staccato-like shots from before, Natalia brought up the rear while firing nonstop.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”  Natalia kept yelling.

Checking to make sure that Natalia was still following, Jain turned his attention to the task.  “Come on!”

“Can… walk…”  Irina groaned.

Ignoring her, the two young men half-dragged, half-carried the Russian Supermodel with them.

The next moments were a blur.  There was the notion that perhaps continuing to walk through the museum wasn’t the best idea.  After all, Jain was pretty sure that the [Karajà] was still sticking around.  Maybe more.  But when he looked at Irina, her aura was no dimmer than before.  It was still bright green, minus the treasure chest icon from before.  There was no hint of red anywhere, not even on Lev and Natalia.

‘Not blue anymore, but green.’

If there was one particular thing that Jain learned, it was that depending on which direction they walked, hints of red began to worm into Lev and Irina’s aura.  When Jain changed direction, the red disappeared.  Using this as a compass, Jain began to lead them on a twisting path of hallways, exhibits and stairwells.

“...Do you know where we’re going?”  Lev said a moment later, heaving with exertion.  “Cause we’ve been going around in circles.”

“Yes.”  Jain said with surety.

“How?”

Jain noticed that Lev was staring at him.  That the Mage’s eyes hovered between Jane and the P38 stowed into his underwear.  Exactly the way you’re not supposed to do with guns.

“...I just do.”  Jain whispered.

Lev’s silence was filled with the weight of unspoken questions and suspicions.

“Natalia, are you following?”

“Ah, yes.”  Natalia answered and quickly hid her hands, folding them behind her back like one would when taking a stroll.  Pretending like she hadn’t been doing anything.

She had been leveling up.

Jain nodded in understanding and looked ahead.

Eventually, the four of them reached the exit, right on time as the sun was rising once more.

Everywhere that sunlight touched, Jain saw the destruction left in the wake of the last 24 hours.

Bodies littered the asphalt streets, blood pouring freely.  Referring to them as ‘bodies’ was an understatement.  They were little more than pieces of meat, picked over and picked clean by whatever godforsaken monsters invaded earth.  The tiny hope that Jain experienced in the museum, the hope that he couldn’t get rid of, was finally crushed.

Skyscrapers blew out smoke out of every window, each of them reminding Jain of the tragedy in New York years ago.  Cars lay strewn around sidewalks, the kind of scene you’d see in a zombie apocalypse movie.  Blood stained the streets and the sky was an angry hue of red, orange and purple –the short hour between Night and Day.

New York City was in ruins.