Kill.
Die.
Repeat.
Pete and Craig moved into a steady rhythm as they continued the game. They headed for the same clump of boulders after the next three resurrections, picking off enemies below and gathering five relics between them. The final time they reached the boulder; however, it was clear that the fighting had shifted, and they were going to have to move toward the river in order to take out more enemies.
"Looks like I'm leaning toward a melee build," Pete said, bringing up a holographic version of his display and showing it to Craig.
>> REGULATION PROFIT ENFORCER: PETE
+| Credit Card of Rapid Liquidity: increases agility by 5.
+| Belch Blessed Thistle: successful melee attacks cause 10% bleed damage.
+| Big Boy Blade: combat knife blade size increased by 150%, critical strike chance with this weapon increased by 2%.
He pulled out the combat knife and showed it to Craig, demonstrating the effects of his latest relic. The blade was now more than twice the usual size, and even the sheath strapped to his belt had enlarged to accommodate the new dimensions of the weapon. The edge of the blade also seemed to smoke, as though shadows were coming off the weapon.
"No protection though," Pete went on, "and no healing. So I can do damage, but I'm gonna take a hell of a lot as well."
Craig nodded, showing his own haul of relics.
>> REGULATION PROFIT ENFORCER: CRAIG
+| Golden Bullet: Your rifle now holds 12 bullets.
+| Debtor's Curse Long Range Scope: +20% accuracy and +20% critical strike damage for enemies that are more than 50 feet away [must have at least 500 Belch Bucks on hand].
+| Burning Ember: All range attacks now cause 10% fire damage.
Craig held his rifle, showing off the new scope he'd acquired. The barrel of the gun also seemed a little longer, and there were crimson markings on the stock, perhaps signifying the fire damage his shots would now cause.
>> TEAM SHARE UNLOCK:
Congratulations! You have spent sufficient time together to unlock the Team Share feature. From this point on, you will be able to see relics that are offered to any member of your team. Relics can also be traded between team members for 500 Belch Bucks per trade.
"Nice!" Pete said.
"That should make things easier if one of us is offered three relics that don't fit with our current skills."
"Yeah, exactly. So, we've got range and melee covered, but absolutely no damage mitigation or heals between us. That means we're gonna keep dying until we can pick up a relic that can help."
Craig nodded, lifting his rifle and looking down the scope as he pointed toward the beachy area up ahead that led to the river.
"I see another elite. There are a few smaller units surrounding it, but the brute seems wounded."
Pete leaned around the edge of the boulder and looked in the direction Craig was facing. He squinted, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. He could just make out one of the bigger elite demons standing amid a throng of Company soldiers. Gunfire cracked as the troops tried to take down the brute, but they were harried by a group of smaller imp creatures that hurled fireballs at them and screeched at one another with demonic glee.
"Jesus! They've really gone all in on the whole demon theme," Pete said.
"We have something similar in our mythology," Craig replied. "Though the demons of our history tend to be shadow creatures that inhabit dreams and steal children from their beds rather than these peculiar red creatures."
"Ready?" Pete asked.
The goblin nodded, and they charged off into the fray, rifles held close to their bodies as they ran across the hard sand. Large groups of Company soldiers were positioned on either side, firing their rifles at the enemy and running forward as artillery fire boomed all around them. It reminded Pete of a dozen different scenes he'd watched in war movies, with dirt and sand flying into the air with each explosive detonation, along with mangled body parts and the cries of the dead and dying.
While they were still a long way from their target, a horn blast cut through the din of battle, drawing their attention to the left where a strange and obscene procession lumbered out from the trees. Large metal and wood wagons with wheels that screeched in protest as they turned were being pulled along by dozens of shackled and bloody hobgoblins. The brutes had metal hooks jammed into their shoulders, attached to rusty chains that pulled the wagons forward.
On top of the wagons were half a dozen mutilated goblin and hobgoblin bodies that had been pinned against huge wooden boards alongside slogans that had clearly been written in blood in large letters.
DEATH TO THE DOMINION!
COIN IS CRIMINAL!
PROFIT PERVERTS PURPOSE!
WE WILL EAT YOUR CHILDREN!
Pete watched the baffling parade as it entered the clearing and saw that there were women and children shackled and caged in the last of the three huge wagons. Fire-wielding imps surrounded the cage, flames dancing between clawed hands as the demonic creatures danced and capered.
"Fucking hell," Pete hissed. "This is some medieval grimdark shit here."
"If this game has been established by the Propaganda and Merchandising Division, subtlety will not be chief among its attributes."
"You can say that again. Feels like my eyeballs are being hit by sledgehammers."
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The horn blared again as the procession made its way onto the battlefield. Stirred into a predictable rage, the Company troops surged forward, heedless of the risk. In the chaos that ensued, Pete immediately saw an opportunity.
"There!" he shouted, pointing at a group of elite demons that had come charging out from behind the wagons. "We need to get in behind them."
They ran, arcing toward the elites while the throng of Company soldiers hit them head-on. A hail of gunfire tore through the hulking demons but served only to wound them rather than put them down altogether. Pete slung his rifle over his shoulder, cursing the fact that he couldn't just drop the weapon into his inventory as he increased his speed.
It was a risky maneuver, but if they played it right, they might be able to take out three elite rebels in one strike. They just had to wait for the Corporation troops to wear down the enemy, wounding them sufficiently so that Pete and Craig could swoop in at the last minute. It was essentially the same strategy they'd been using thus far in the game, but switching to a melee attack in Pete's case was going to make the approach much riskier this time.
There was no time to communicate all of this to Craig, of course, but the little goblin had proven remarkably adept at following Pete's lead and adapting on the fly. As Pete sprinted toward the three elite demons, an imp up ahead turned to face him, oily black eyes narrowing as it conjured fire between its blackened claws.
Before the imp could send a burst of fire toward Pete, a shot rang out and the creature's head exploded. Pete grinned as he ran. The recent addition of the rifle scope and Burning Ember relics meant that Craig had a much better chance of getting a critical hit with his gun.
[Pete] Nice shot!
[Craig] You are welcome. I will attempt to assist from a distance where I can.
Pete slowed a little and pulled the blade from its sheath, holding it down at one side as he continued to sprint toward the enemy. The scene ahead was chaos, with bullets flying and bladed weaponry slashing. Balls of fire exploded here and there, engulfing Corporation troops in a lethal conflagration but causing the demons no real discomfort.
As he approached the area where the three elite demons were cutting into ranks of soldiers, Pete was spotted by two nearby imps. One of the creatures sent a ball of fire at Pete, forcing him to dodge to one side and roll on the ground to avoid getting hit. Intense heat shot past him as he got back to his feet. As the second imp prepared to send out a ball of flame, bright crimson blood gushed from its chest, and the figure staggered backward as the crack of Craig's rifle reached Pete a moment later.
Knife in hand, Pete charged at the imps, slashing through the neck of the wounded demon first and feeling the blade cut through demon flesh like the proverbial hot knife through butter. He kicked the imp backward, immediately turning and deflecting a swipe of the second imp's claws before shoulder-barging the creature and sending it stumbling backward.
Pete followed up by thrusting his combat knife into the imp's chest, guessing where he hoped the creature's heart would be. He was rewarded by a gush of hot blood that was accompanied by a scorching fire that surrounded the wound. Pete ripped out the blade, twisting away from the imp as blood and fire poured from its chest.
>> KILL BOUNTY: 250 Belch Bucks
Pete didn't stop moving. He ran to the closest of the elite demons, hoping he wouldn't be killed by friendly fire before he reached the brute. The now-familiar crack of Craig's enhanced rifle reached Pete's ears as the closest elite demon spun around, a goblin trooper skewered on the end of one black sword as onyx eyes regarded Pete.
The huge demon flicked its blade to one side, sending the dying goblin to the ground as it advanced on Pete, teeth bared, flames burning between the curved horns on top of its head. Blood spurted from a fresh wound on the brute's left shoulder as Craig fired his gun once more.
The elite didn't seem to notice. There were deep cuts and puncture marks littering its leathery skin, and one hand was hanging limply at its side, but it still headed to Pete with purpose, clutching its remaining blade in its good hand.
Pete slowed to a walk, too close to the demon for Craig to risk another shot. The brute was badly wounded, but it still looked like it had more than enough strength and savagery to deal with Pete. He'd have to be smart, patient. That wasn't easy considering the time pressure they were under and the fact that his mother was still out there in the real world, in very real peril.
The demon swung its midnight blade at Pete's head, and he ducked, diving into a roll and coming up with his knife slashing at the demon's legs. The blade bit into demon flesh, cutting deeply into the meat of one leg. Blinding pain followed as Pete was knocked hard in the head and sent tumbling over, the knife falling from his hand as he hit the ground.
It took a moment for him to realize what had hit him as he blinked and moved into a crouch, swinging the rifle around from his shoulder to use as a club. He stared in disbelief at the demon rebel. Two smaller arms and hands had unfurled from its abdomen and now flexed into fists, jutting out from the side of his torso.
"That's just fucking unfair," Pete complained, looking around for his knife and spotting it lying a few yards to his left.
The demon swung its huge blade at Pete’s body once again, and this time Pete held up the rifle to block the swipe. Metal clanged against metal, and the blow struck so hard that it sent a shock of pain through his wrists and up his arms. Pete cursed, dropping the rifle and grabbing the combat blade with numb fingers as he rolled on the ground to get clear of a follow-up punch from one of the demon’s smaller fists.
“Damned Kuato shit!” Pete blurted, running to the side of the demon and lashing out with the blade.
The sweep cut through one of the smaller arms, severing the limb as Pete ducked back to avoid a savage sweep of the demon’s blade. It roared in anger, seemingly impervious to the pain it must have been enduring. Rather than moving away from the hulking demon and putting himself at greater risk of getting cut to pieces by its huge blade, Pete moved in close, driving his blade up into the abdomen of the demon and pushing the knife upward with as much force as he could manage.
A fist slammed into Pete’s face, but he bit down against the pain, moving around the back of the demon as it slammed its sword pommel at Pete’s back. The blow only partially struck, but it was enough to knock Pete backwards, the combat knife ripping free of the demon’s flesh as he staggered backwards.
As Pete steadied his footing, the elite demon turned to face him, slumped down, blood pouring from the fresh wounds in its torso. Chest heaving with breath, Pete didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait for the demon to attack again. He ran forward, jumping up with the blade held in a downward stabbing position.
The demon brought its sword arm around but moved too slowly to catch Pete. His elongated combat knife slammed into the demon’s right eye, driving deep as the figure shuddered and stumbled. Hot blood sprayed from the wound, hissing as it gushed out against Pete’s face while he rode the demon to the ground.
A moment before it hit, the rebel demon disintegrated, sending Pete thudding against the earth, his combat knife sinking into the sand as he hit the ground with jarring force.
>> ELITE KILL: 500 Belch Bucks
>> AVAILABLE RELICS:
+| Tithe Cheat Charm: A cracked blessing charm; +2% resistance to magical damage.
+| Gilded Scrip Shard: A broken piece of rebel currency; grants +1% Health Regeneration.
+| Broach of Unending Flatulence: a cloud of constant flatulence surrounds the holder, causing 3% poisonous gas damage to all enemies within 10 feet and 1% damage to the holder [Crafted by Bogmaster57]
Pete rolled onto his back, staring up at the trio of relics floating in front of him. He squinted, reading the details of the last relic in confusion.
[Pete] The fuck?
[Craig] It seems that Dominion citizens with sufficient coin are allowed to craft their own relics. I believe, in cases like this, if we choose a citizen's relic, they win a prize of some kind.
[Pete] Well, there's no way in fuck I'm picking a fart relic!
Pete selected the Gilded Script Shard, and a new icon appeared at the top of his HUD confirming the selection.
[Craig] Good choice.
[Pete] Yeah, now let's find you something.
Pete got to his feet, grunting in pain as he recovered his rifle and moved toward the remaining two elite demons. The battle seemed to have shifted somewhat, with a knot of Company soldiers making it to the rear wagon, where they were attempting to reach the screaming women and children locked in the cages.
Pete felt a sting of guilt as he quickly surveyed the scene, a sense of common decency pulling him toward the cages.
[Craig] None of this is real, Pete. It is propaganda designed to elicit anger and force you into a certain course of action. I suggest we focus on the task at hand.
The little goblin was leaning against a tree back the way they'd come, staring through the scope of his enhanced rifle.
[Pete] Alright. Two more elites to kill then.