Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 57 - Soul Spike

Sometimes, a purge is necessary. I didn’t want to, but it was my only option when dealing with those ungrateful wretches. Luckily, their entitlement never had a chance to spread before I nipped it in the bud. Still, I regret that it was necessary.

Nora Lancaster

Until that point, I’d eschewed the use of my most powerful weapon, mostly because I wasn’t sure how well the walls would hold up under the weight of its ordinance. However, with a horde of humanoid thralls bearing down on me, I had little choice but to go all out. If the hull was breached, I could only hope that the Mist shields would keep the atmosphere contained. Otherwise, it wouldn’t matter if I was ripped apart by the mob.

Before the BMAP’s rounds landed, I couldn’t help but notice that a multitude of species were present within the surging horde. I saw scales, multiple arms and legs attached to curiously shaped torsos, and fur-covered bodies in abundance. There were humans, too. And plenty of creatures I couldn’t really categorize as anything but monsters. One and all, though, they continued their screeching charge.

Explosions rocked the space, sending dozens of the creatures flying through the air – often in more than one piece – but I continued firing until the drum was empty. As I reloaded, I was beset by déjà vu, my mind immediately latching onto the similarity of the surging horde of mindless aliens and the mass of mutated wildlings I’d fought less than a week before.

But the situations were dissimilar enough that the illusion shattered under even the lightest scrutiny. For one, while the aliens came in all sorts of shapes, they weren’t deformed like the wildlings had been. For another, they didn’t seem as feral. Instead, aside from their screeching, they were remarkably devoid of any expression. No anger. No fear. Just immutable placidity.

Finally, the aliens all moved in perfect unison, as if they were being controlled by a hive mind. Considering the presence of the smaller spiders and my previous experience with their telekinetic prowess, it didn’t take a leap of logic to stumble upon the possibility that the horde was being telepathically controlled by the spiders.

Which was horrifying.

Not least because I had no real defense against such an assault. Hammering that home was a sudden spike of pain that felt like it sliced right through my brain. Or my thoughts. I let out a grunt, knowing full well that I’d only retained consciousness because of Pain Tolerance. Or perhaps my high Mind attribute. Either way, it was enough to keep me from blacking out, but not nearly enough to keep me from experiencing untold agony.

Behind me, Patrick got it worse, letting out a full-fledged scream as he clutched at his temples. I couldn’t spare him any thought, though, because my barrage had only slowed the horde down. It would take far more than a single cannister of explosive rounds to completely stop them.

It was a good thing that I’d brought plenty of ammunition, then.

In a move I’d practiced a thousand times before, I exchanged the spent drum for a fresh one and resumed my bombardment. The thump of the BMAP’s discharge filled the air, followed by the soothing sound of explosions. But the aliens’ numbers seemed endless. If I had to guess, I would’ve said that the horde was populated by each and every one of the space station’s previous occupants – an assumption supported by the numbers as well as their disparate attire.

Some were dressed casually, looking remarkably similar to what I might see in Nova City. Others wore military uniforms. Still others wore rich, flowing robes that suggested wealth and influence. None of the clothing was in good shape, but it was still easily categorized.

Of course, not every thrall was completely intact. Plenty sported grievous and rotting wounds. More than one looked as if it should’ve been in a grave. But they maintained enough mobility to contribute to the charge.

Dozens – then hundreds – fell before my barrage, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. There were too many, and I had too little ammunition. It was a similar problem to what I’d encountered against the mutated wildlings. I could kill them well enough, but one person could only do so much. And with every passing second, the horde of thralls pushed closer, ensuring that it would eventually devolve into a melee. Like had been the case with the wildlings, I would doubtless defeat many more, but at some point, the weight of their numbers would bear me to the ground. When that happened, I would be ripped to pieces.

I could see it all so clearly. I was destined to lose.

So, I needed to change the game.

Retreat was a possibility, but not an attractive one. Perhaps the thralls would give up the chase, but I suspected their pursuit would doggedly continue. And given that I knew the Rift would eventually repopulate – perhaps it already had – there was every chance that retreat would see us running headlong into more danger. With the thralls still in pursuit, we’d be stuck between two hostile forces.

No - retreat wasn’t really an option.

Nor was fighting the horde head-on.

It wasn’t until I noticed that the spiders still hadn’t moved that I stumbled upon a potential solution. If the aliens were being controlled by these stationary spiders, then what would happen if I started killing them off? Perhaps they’d lose control altogether. At the very least, it might buy us some time.

The only problem was that, with the thralls bearing down on us, I couldn’t spare the time it would take to target them. Fortunately, I wasn’t alone.

“Patrick!” I screamed as I loaded my third cannister. “Target the spiders!”

I had no idea if he even heard me. In fact, I felt certain that he hadn’t, considering that he was still screaming in agony. But in that moment, I chose to trust him. Perhaps it would prove a fatal mistake, but I wanted to wait until the last instant before I adjusted the plan.

I continued firing, but the surging horde clamored over the still smoking bodies of their brethren as they closed the distance between us. All the while, their screeches continued to fill the air; Patrick’s own screaming had died down, and I dared to hope that he’d managed to find a way to focus through the pain.

For my part, the agony was distracting, but I had plenty of experience and an ability on my side. He didn’t, as far as I knew.

Fifty yards away, the aliens came into focus. At first, it was difficult to notice, largely because of their alien physiology, but after only a second or two, I could confidently say that they were, one and all, malnourished. How long had the spiders kept them captive? Weeks, at least. Probably longer, considering that higher Constitution meant a reduced need for sustenance. In my case, I could easily survive for a couple of months without food. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but I could do it.

The enthralled aliens continued their shambling charge, and I maintained my bombardment, eventually emptying yet another cannister. I exchanged it quickly, but even that small delay meant that the aliens gained a few extra yards.

When they closed to within twenty yards, I started mapping out a plan for retreat. It would be close, especially if I had to carry Patrick, but I felt confident that I could outrun the horde. They weren’t the real issue, though. Instead, that designation belonged to whatever we’d left in our wake.

Rifts didn’t follow normal rules. Instead, they were just manifestations of densely concentrated Mist. As such, the conjured spaces – and the creatures within – functioned on a timer. Eventually, the monsters we had killed, as well as the Rift Shards we’d gathered, would repopulate. I had no idea how long that would take, but my intuition told me it wouldn’t be long.

Perhaps the spiders had already reformed.

There was no way I intended to run headlong into that kind of danger if I had any other option. But it was quickly becoming apparent that I wouldn’t be afforded much choice in the matter.

Finally, just as I was on the verge of using grenades to cover my retreat, I heard the distinct sound of Patrick’s pistol going off. Once. Twice. Three times, all in quick succession. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the spiders fall from the wall, its body torn to pieces by Patrick’s handheld railgun.

The horde went wild, screaming in despair as they tore at their own faces. I wasn’t going to let that opportunity go, and I quickly filled the air with another cannister’s worth of ordinance. Meanwhile, Patrick targeted another spider, taking it down with a few well-placed shots.

Unfortunately, there were no others in range, but the damage had been done.

The thralls had completely stopped, many of them sinking to their knees as they clawed at their own bodies, dragging chunks of flesh away with every passing second. It would have been the perfect opportunity to retreat and regroup.

But I had another idea.

Maybe it would have been smarter to take the safer option and come back to fight the horde as well as the spiders on our own terms, but I suspected that was the point of the Rift. I was no expert, but it seemed to me that Rifts were more than just a collection of progressively more powerful opponents to overcome. Instead, there was a pattern to it. It wasn’t a puzzle – not precisely – but the design wasn’t completely benign, either.

To me, it seemed that the situation had been set up to force us into a retreat. And if that was what the Rift wanted, I was experienced enough to know that it was probably smart to avoid it at all costs. So, if it wanted us to go back – probably to spring some kind of trap – I reasoned that the best course of action was to move forward.

So, I yelled, “Follow me! Don’t lag behind!”

With that, I lobbed a few more rounds from my BMAP at the horde of enthralled aliens, then raced forward. Even as the explosives tore a hole in the crowd, I exchanged the mobile artillery platform for my R-14. I’d have preferred the more potent firearm, but it would pose almost as much danger to me as it would to the thralls. And even more to Patrick, who didn’t have their unnatural durability or the benefit of my [Demolition] skill to protect him. So, if I was to punch a hole through the horde, I had to do so with a more mundane gun.

Not that the R-14 was incapable of doing the job.

We advanced, a storm of superheated plasma rounds leading the way as I carved a path through the mass of mind-controlled aliens. Most didn’t even resist, they were so distraught by the loss of their arachnid overlords, but a few managed to regain their aggression at the last second. It was too late, though, and they were cut down just like the rest.

Like that, we moved forward until we’d progressed deep within the horde. When we drew within range of one of the spiders, Patrick went to work, tearing through the stationary targets. It was all too easy.

Over the next half hour, we continued on, ruthlessly exterminating the telepathic spiders, and slowly, the horde’s cohesion began to degrade. Before long, the aliens were fighting one another almost as much as they tried to reach us.

At one point, they were probably civilized and sapient, but the spiders’ influence had stripped them of anything but feral fury. Before, they moved with a curious union of mind, but with the spiders’ numbers gradually declining, so too did the arachnids’ influence. As a result, the aliens came to resemble the wildlings with which I’d grown so familiar. The only difference was that they didn’t have the physicality to back up their savage instincts.

As such, the danger slowly decreased until, at last, Patrick put the last spider down.

Suddenly, every single member of the horde collapsed.

“What the…”

I swept my rifle around, searching for some surprise attack. But nothing came. So, I knelt down and touched one of the aliens. It was some reptilian variant, but the moment my fingers grazed its scaly skin, I knew it was dead.

“Are they…”

I nodded, saying, “Dead. All of them, unless I miss my guess.”

“How?” Patrick wondered.

I shook my head and told him that I had no idea. Then, I guessed, “The spiders seemed to be keeping them alive. I mean, look at these people. Even before they collapsed, they were barely holding together.”

“That’s…disturbing,” he said.

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed. “But we need to –”

Just then, the ground trembled as something incredibly heavy dropped from the ceiling and hit the floor. In truth, I’d been expecting something like that. The mind-control spiders were dangerous, but defeating them had been too easy. It only stood to reason that there would be some other guardian.

But when I jerked my gaze to the right and beheld the new threat, I had to admit that I was more than a little surprised at what I saw.

I guess it could accurately be called a spider, just like the rest of the creatures I’d encountered in the Rift. However, this one looked nothing like any of the others I’d killed. For one, it was the size of a tank, with spindly legs and a slim body that, despite its enormous size, looked like it was built for speed.

For another, it was entirely crystalline. Gleaming black, the spider also had a dozen quivering tendrils extending from its abdomen. To call their undulating movements unsettling would have been vastly underselling just how creepy the scene was.

And that was before I saw them whip out and slice into some nearby alien corpses, splitting them with ease.

“Run,” I croaked. When Patrick didn’t move, I screamed, “Run! This is not a fight for you!”

To his credit – or perhaps he was driven by his fear rather than an impulse to obey my directive – Patrick wasted no more time before turning and sprinting back the way we’d come. That left me facing the spider alone.

Which was probably appropriate. Patrick’s previous contributions notwithstanding, I usually worked better when I didn’t have to worry about anyone else.

With that, I exchanged my R-14 for my Pulsar, took aim, and embraced Empowered Shot. After two seconds – during which the spider remained curiously stationary – I squeezed the trigger and fired. The sniper rifle thundered, sending a round blistering through the air at supersonic speeds. It tore into the spider’s multifaceted eye with a booming explosion that sent shards of crystalline flesh misting into the air.

But the spider didn’t move.

Not at first, at least. Instead, I felt it the moment the creature’s attention settled on me, and when it did, my knees went weak and my will shattered as I stumbled forward and fell to all fours.

My mind raced to fill in the gaps, but I could feel some integral part of me splintering into a million pieces. Tears flowed down my cheeks. My every muscle twitched, stiffening as I fought for my very survival.

No – it was more than that.

I could feel the very essence of who I was being ripped asunder. It wasn’t an attack on my mind. Rather, it was an assault on my soul. Mentally and metaphysically, I flailed, but I had no defense against such an intrusion. Suddenly, everything that made me an individual was laid bare.

And I hated what I saw.

I was a weak, pitiful thing. My actions had never been about justice. They weren’t even about vengeance. Under that assault on my soul, I saw that everything was an attempt to exert some measure of control. That was why I’d dragged it out so long. Within the familiar confines of Nova City, cloaked in constant Stealth and other identities, I didn’t have to confront the reality of the situation. I didn’t have to acknowledge that I was no different from any of the other poor people I saw every day. I was just a product of outside circumstances.

But I knew I could be better. That’s what my uncle had worked so hard for.

He could have easily created an assassin; if he had, he would have just made me in his image. Instead, he’d always wanted more for me. Time and time again, Jeremiah had said as much. I just hadn’t listened.

Or perhaps I had forgotten.

Suddenly, I realized that he would never have approved of my quest for revenge. Certainly, he wouldn’t have had any issues with killing Nora, but he would have seen my months-long quest to make her suffer as she watched everything crumble around her as entirely misguided.

I knew that.

But I’d done it anyway because I’d convinced myself that it would somehow make me feel better. It wouldn’t, though. Deep down, I had always known that. But it was so much easier to focus on that than to plan for a future I was ill-equipped to contemplate. My instruction had been cut short, meaning that I’d only ever been trained to kill. I had no doubts he would have taught me how to live, had he not died.

As it stood, I’d have to figure it out for myself.

But first, I needed to kill a spider. To that end, I focused inward, leveraging every point of my Mind and Mist attributes into gathering the shattering pieces of my soul and dragging them back into place. I really didn’t know what I was doing. There was no structure to it. Instead, I could only brute force it.

Fortunately, I was well-equipped to do just that, and gradually, it worked.

At some point, my awareness of the surroundings returned, and I realized that the spider had begun to advance. With a monumental effort of will, I flexed my Mind, and the Mist followed suit. With that, I wrenched my soul from the crystalline spider’s grasp. It stumbled back, but I couldn’t take advantage. I was too busy gathering my wits.

So, by the time I pushed myself back to my feet, the creature had recovered. However, it seemed much more wary than before.

Good. For now, it was wariness. Soon, it would be fear.