“Who… are you?” Aurora asked. Her voice sounded unsure of if she should be reverent or suspicious.
Arthur made his alias to stay as anonymous as possible. Viridian was a name he’d had in his gaming days, which he’d first adopted on account of the color of his eyes. He’d used that name in every game he’d played, and even in some chatrooms before he stopped going to them. Some people thought he was tacky for his choice, but it was one of the few things that he truly considered his own.
While he chose to be anonymous for at least the most part, he wasn’t sure if he should obscure his identity from these people in particular. He knew that revealing too much information could be a risk. While he didn’t consider himself to be anything special himself, he understood that if his abilities were unique, unscrupulous people would try to take advantage of him. Even so, he wasn’t against helping people who needed it, even if they were people that most would find distasteful. On the contrary, he would leap to nearly anyone’s aid, barring people he truly believed to be evil. The simple fact was that he would help anyone he felt needed it, whether they were taking advantage of him or not. In Arthur’s mind, it simply didn’t matter.
Anonymity was something that Arthur often found comfort in. He liked being just another face in the crowd, almost as though being unimportant was a shield against his own self-esteem issues. If people ignored his existence, then he could simply exist as an observer. He would occasionally end up in one spotlight or another, of course, due to a stupid mistake or an attempt to be a good person gone wrong. More often than not, though, he blended into the crowd, and that was exactly how he liked it. To him, being special simply wasn’t appealing, as it would come with scrutiny and pressure to be something he couldn’t live up to.
This mentality often clashed with his nature. He was someone who felt obligated to assist other people, even to his detriment, but was also someone who venerated being unseen. More than obligated, he was compelled to the very marrow of his bones to be what some people might call selfless, compassionate, or supportive. To him, however, he simply believed that if he could spend his breath being of use to someone, it gave his life a little more meaning than it’d had before.
Even though he had been drunk, the knight from the dreamscape had been right. If he was going to find his parents, he’d need to start in the place they’d most likely be. If the most likely place they’d be would be a settlement formed after the conquer, he would need to find it. If he was going to find a safe settlement, he wouldn’t be capable of leaving these people behind to fend for themselves. He would be with these three for at least as long as it’d take to find that settlement, making anonymity an exacting task. He would need to wear his helm at all times, which simply wasn’t feasible, no matter how comfortable it was. He had no choice but to take them with him, which meant he had no choice but to reveal himself.
Arthur slowly gripped his helm with both hands. Ema, Gideon and Aurora watched with held breath. Some of the other survivors of their group had heard the boom of the lightning bolt and came to investigate, watching the ongoings from behind a wall. Ema and Gideon were still holding up Aurora, their eyes glued to the mysterious stranger as the helm slowly moved upward.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the clouds above parting and losing their furious tint. The virid radiance of the Heart of Devotion shone just as brightly in the returned light of midday as it had in the gloom. With the rain slowing to a light sprinkle, Arthur emitted an almost rainbow-like phenomenon against the backdrop of parting clouds as his helm lifted.
Dark brown, mop-like hair spilled out. Orbs of unyielding green glimmered and sparkled behind it, like beautiful forest nymphs hiding behind dingy trees. His face was just as middling as always, and he blinked against the sudden sun in his face. The light only seemed to reflect the glitter-like aura that danced about the gleam coming off of him like heat, and the striking sight mesmerized the survivors. Some of their eyes widened, and others gaped like they were about to eat a cheeseburger. None of their eyes drifted from the visual smorgasbord, causing Arthur to regret his choice already.
“Arthur,” He forced out, trying his hardest not to cringe away from their burrowing gazes. “…What’s your names?”
Title
[Heart of Devotion]
Deactivated
The luster radiating from Arthur retreated, sinking into his heavy plate like lotion into skin. The three continued to stare until Gideon broke the silence.
“Lindow? It’s… you?” He said breathlessly, as if he still couldn’t believe his eyes. Arthur’s brows went up.
“How do you know me? I don’t think we’ve ever met?”
Gideon chuckled, but it was sorrowful. “I only know you because you were almost always late to Dr. Sherman’s class. There used to be betting pools on whether or not you’d be late again.” He said. Arthur’s curious face turned to one of shocked affront.
“You’re a student here?” Ema asked incredulously. “Have you been here this entire time?! How haven’t we found you in all these weeks?”
“Wait, weeks?” Arthur’s face returned to confusion. “Hold on…”, he let out a breath, and looked around. “We should get to safety before we talk more, we could be attacked again any time out here.” Gideon nodded, letting Aurora stand on her own. Ema was more hesitant to separate from her friend, but also let go soon after. After standing up straight, Aurora nodded. “He’s right, it’s not safe here.” After signaling Arthur to follow, she put her hands in her ratty jean pockets. “Come on. The others are this way. And if you know Dr. Sherman, then… there’s something you should see.” Gideon and Ema’s heads lowered, giving Arthur a bad feeling.
“How long has he been like this?”
Arthur stood over Dr. Sherman, who was lying on a couch. It was covered by a blanket and a half ton of bandages, but he’d been stabbed during the first days of the raid. As a result, he’d been inflicted by hemorrhage, a status condition that inflicted disastrous effects.
[Hemorrhage]: Causes continuous bleeding damage. High VIT reduces effectiveness. Low VIT increases effectiveness. Extended duration may cause additional negative effects.
Hemorrhage was not dangerous to someone like Arthur, but was deadly for someone with a low vitality stat. By that definition, it was the most deadly to a human who had never leveled up. Dr. Sherman was a level 1 human, as he’d never gotten the chance to fight. He’d been “saved” by Ema healing him constantly whenever his health got low, but it’d recently gotten worse. As an additional effect, hemorrhage also exposed the afflicted to further diseases if it wasn’t cured fast enough. As a result, Dr. Sherman shivered beneath the heavy blankets, his hands cold as ice.
“He’s been like this for weeks.” Ema said. “I can’t cure his diseases or bleeding. I’ve tried all the medicine we could find, and I haven’t gotten a chance to get a curing skill.” She gripped the frame of the couch in frustration. “I’ve been healing him whenever he gets low, but… I don’t know how much longer he’ll last.”
The room they were currently in looked to have been a break-room previously, with tables and chairs strewn about. There was only one couch, which the only professor in the group was currently occupying. It was dark, with the only light coming in from a partly shattered window to illuminate the crestfallen faces of youths. They sat or stood about, whispered among each other, and slept scattered around the blessedly large room. Some watched Arthur with different looks in their eyes, with hostility or distrust, or with hesitant hope. None of them spoke to him.
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Arthur lowered himself to one knee, taking a closer look at Dr. Sherman. His skin was pale, and there were deep bags below his eyes. His normally well taken care of beard had grown messy. The back of his neck had a blue and purple hue that crept down and under his shirt. Arthur took his frozen hands into his, the attempt to warm them doomed to fail.
Arthur’s experiences with Dr. Sherman were mixed. He was stern, but always fair, and expected those he taught to do their best. During Arthur’s many and varied failures, he’d repeatedly tear strips off of him verbally, but he never gave up on him. He expected Arthur to do better each time he screwed up, and if he didn’t, he’d drive him harder next time. For some reason Arthur didn’t understand, he always believed in him and pushed him for more, despite his disabilities.
“I remember…” Ema began, her voice cracking slightly. “When I was skipping class, I saw him walking down a hall…” She chuckled, despite the wetness forming in her eyes. “He was so content with his coffee, I couldn’t help but mess with him.” Gideon smiled sadly, eyes sinking to the ground. “Yeah… that man loved his coffee.”
“I was eating some fruit, and… I put a banana peel around the corner he was heading towards,” Ema admitted, causing Gideon to cough out a laugh despite the mood. Aurora shook her head disapprovingly at her friend’s cartoon antics.
“I swear, he painted the entire ceiling brown with his coffee! I thought he must’ve had powers to make his cup hold more than-” Her attempt at levity fell flat as her voice broke with a sobbing hic. Aurora looked on with concerned eyes, and though his brows knitted together, Gideon’s eyes didn’t have the strength to leave the floor.
“He chased me for like half an hour!” She said, despite her mask of mirth falling. “The next time I saw him, he just gave me a look like that one meme picture! I… he…” Her sniffles caught up with her, stealing her words away like thieves in the night. Her blubbering was punctuated with ugly hiccups as Aurora put her arm around her supportively. “We’ve lost a lot of people,” she said joylessly. “I think… we’re going to lose him soon, too.” Arthur looked around the room. It was filled to bursting with misery, every individual there showing lines of anxiety writ across their faces. There was a palpable air of fear and dread permeating the area, and the sight tore at his excised heart.
“I can’t imagine how much you’ve all been through. Being surrounded by so much pain and death for so long…” He took a shaky breath. “I could never endure so much torment.” His grip on the professor’s hands tightened. More of the refugees were watching him now, deadened, starving eyes sliding to him like moving furniture as he spoke.
“It takes a certain kind of bravery not to give up when pushed so far, I think. I’m… not smart enough to know how to convey it properly, but I want you to know that I’m truly glad you’ve all made it so far. I don’t know how much I can help, or if I can at all, but…” He sighed, his chest swelling with sorrow at the miasma of suffering that exuded from every single person present.
“I swear, I’ll do everything I can. I won’t stop until you’re all safe, even if it kills me. None of you will have to face this alone again.” He spoke low, but his words reached across the room, regardless. He put a hand up to cup the professor’s forehead. It was the only part of him that was warm, too warm.
“This… ends now.”
[Absolvement]: Expend a stack of [Audacity] to absorb the damage of an ally within your area of influence. Physical and bodily state changes apply. Cannot absorb damage of deceased ally. Cannot absorb damage from a higher leveled ally that outstrips your current vitality. Requires physical contact. Long cooldown.
A golden light shone from inside the man’s skin as he rapidly healed. The light grew further as that skin quickly regained its color, and the man’s eyes lost their bags and became less sunken. The purplish tinge creeping up his neck also dispersed, even the blood staining the gauze and blankets swiftly retreated. The light had caught the attention of almost all those who weren’t already watching, mouths going agape all around. Gideon’s eyes were wide as saucers. Aurora’s hand covered her mouth, and Ema stared with greater hope every moment. In just seconds, the light died down, leaving him healthy and sleeping soundly.
Arthur took his hand off of Dr. Sherman’s forehead, smiling to himself. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but it seemed that his skill also took away status conditions. He stood, letting out a breath. The skill said that it would transfer the damage, but he wasn’t sure how-
Suddenly, Arthur felt a sharp pain in his side. He doubled over, shocking everyone around as he vomited a large amount of blood. His armor disappeared, revealing his dirty and stained shirt as he stumbled back, crashing into a wall.
You have contracted
[Hemorrhage]
You have contracted
[Pneumonia]
You have contracted
[Anemia]
You have contracted
[Indigo Rubber Extract]
He spat up more blood before sinking to the floor and wheezing for breath. A purple hue crept up his neck, and on the same side, blood began to seep out of his shirt like a forming tie-dye. He felt a healing skill land on him as he was surrounded by onlookers, and everything went dark.
Camille Castillo evened out the papers on her desk before tucking them away. She massaged her forehead for what felt like the twelfth time today, her System enhanced stamina feeling no greater than it had before the conquer. She had been the one to convince her parents to allow her and her sister to come to the USA on an unscheduled sabbatical, a decision she came to regret. She and her sister both were now stranded in the foreign country, unable to get a single word to or from her family in Spain. Not for the first time, she wondered if they were even still alive.
She tore herself free from the chair she’d been seated in for the last many hours, feeling like the skin of her legs was ripped from her as she did. The silence of early morning in her makeshift “office” was broken only by the shuffle of her clothes and the rustle of the approval papers she’d just signed. When the System first came, she and her peers had the good fortune of getting ahead of the curve, creating a safe space within the first hours. They’d been inside a domed building that was naturally resistant to tremors. After looking upon the madness occurring outside, they’d sealed and barricaded all entrances and exits. Afterwards, they’d done a full sweep of the premises, and upon securing the area, they took all the wood, and even some plastics they could find to block out the windows. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a moderately defensible position.
Camille and her sister had arrived in the country with an escort, which was the only recent decision she’d made that she was proud of. The company her parents headed in Spain practically had its own military force; hardly a legal practice, but to them, laws were more like gentle suggestions that only had teeth when the public were involved. The elites of their “security affiliates” had accompanied their precious scions on their trip, and those same elites were instrumental in establishing the refuge. While part of the crew secured the domed fortress, a small force went out to gather supplies for what would likely be a long stay. While some of that group died, most had survived, brought back supplies and became their groups first System enhanced forces.
Camille sighed as she shambled to her personal quarters, unsure of why she’d been reminiscing about the beginning of the end of the world. She supposed it was because it was a simpler time; a time before factions and the rebirth of the pungent politics she’d thought to have left behind. Word of a safe place had spread far and fast, too fast. Their population within the dome had grown so large so quickly that they’d been forced to expand outside. Thankfully, by then their small group of fighters had grown into a real force, numbered in the triple digits. They’d been able to beat back the monsters flooding the land, and had even banded together to bring down a “Raid Commander”, whatever that was. As a result, they taken ground back from the monster waves for the first time since the apocalypse began. A certain duo had made particularly significant contributions during that battle. One of them was named “Walker”, or something.
After establishing a new perimeter, the System had sent them a message. The message that appeared in front of everyone, broke the united survivors into factions, and made Camille’s blood run ice cold.
Congratulations!
You’ve established a [Territory]!
You are now eligible to gain the [Territory Leader] title
The soft click of the door to Camille’s room felt as loud as a gunshot. She made it to her bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her light brown hair had grown out, and her features were more haggard than ever, despite only being in her 30s. She massaged her hands under running water, being thankful for the “magical plumbing” they’d managed to hammer out thanks to certain survivors who used to be maintenance workers. They’d taken classes and gained skills pertaining to civilization, sacrificing power for the needs of the collective. As she rubbed at her hands, she remembered the day that message appeared, and the first time she’d been forced to kill someone.
There had been blood… everywhere. All over her hands, on her clothes, in her hair… in her mouth…
She rubbed more and more furiously as the smell of blood assaulted her nose anew. It wouldn’t come off, no matter how much she scrubbed at it. The red tint on her palms seemed almost under her own skin, taunting her with their permanent tinge. She tasted the coppery stew of the man again, his eyes wide and bulging, mouth agape as it spilled onto her more and more and more and moreandmoreandmoreandmoreand-
Camille relieved herself of her lunch. It splashed against her shoes as she heaved, doubling over the befouled counter.
She knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.