Yomhalde, Part I (Quest)

August 3rd: 00 days, 00 hours, 42 minutes until Phase 2 of the Gods Game commences…

Cleveland's Public Square is an absolute shitshow. Fire and rubble burns where the old Sailors' and Soldiers' Monument once stood. The screaming, cascading sound of shattering glass decorate the background as windows from all the nearby buildings explode outward. A couple of the buildings look like drunken Jenga towers.

Above me, the sky makes the destruction below look like an idyllic getaway. The sky is an unnaturally dark blanket of blackness streaked with hellfire. Crimson clouds swirl above Public Square, forming around a bleeding wound in reality itself. Cracks forming in the air, slowly growing—like whatever on the other side is pounding, pounding—desperate to get in. Hundreds of imps fill the air, wheeling and diving, giggling in high-pitched shrieks as they rain chaos on the city below. Somewhere in the distance, a single, gigantic red eye hangs on the horizon. Watching, waiting for… something. If it wasn't for the ringing in my ears, I would probably also hear the beating blades of the helicopter circling Terminal Tower, trying to avoid the flocks of imps while keeping its cameras trained on the apocalyptic scene unfolding below.

Yup, and the shirtless guy crawling out of the massive, roughly human-shaped crater where that pretentious health fast-casual restaurant used to be? (You know the one!) yeah, that's me. Covered in dust and blood, and currently being sprayed by a ruptured water main. And I'm currently wondering how the hell I found myself in the middle of the apparent end of the world.

I groan and push myself up from the pavement, one arm at a time as my body slowly reforms from the damage. Something crunches in my shoulder. That doesn't sound good. No time for questions!... My HUD flickers into view.

I glance at my Health and Stamina bars. Both look like they've been chewed on by an angry dog. If it wasn't for my Resistances kicking in when I hit the pavement at terminal velocity, I'd be nothing more than smear of meat. Like a human-size scoop of tuna salad… My love and appreciation for passive Skills will never cease.

I spit out a mouthful of blood and what was either a molar or a piece of gravel. I lift my head, looking over the lip of my impact crater and desperately searching… Yes! I spot it—my Full Metal Staff. It's half-buried a few feet away from my crater, dug into the pavement where it had its own impact. The black iron barbell pulses with raw vitality. Five plates of energy sit on each end, each about the size of a forty-five pound weight. They're blue, and each glowing like miniature suns.

The hat on my head grumbles something, but I can't make it out.

I quickly take in the rest of the battleground around me. Our enemy still hasn't moved. He's hovering in the air, beneath whatever portal to hell is being conjured in the sky. Glowing, bleeding runes spiral around him like demonic graffiti sprayed across the air. That's not good.

Behind me, I hear a ragged, rattling breath. Reshma Murmu, the Bone Cleric. She's still clinging to life somewhere behind the rubble. She's tougher than she looks. Matthew Bruck—the Silent Specter? He's definitely the Pollock painting splattered against the side of Terminal Tower. Bits of him drip down the side of the building in streaks.

I know Jermone is out there. Somewhere. Though I don't hear him in the Sending Stone still attached behind my right ear.

Jelly Boy? Nowhere to be seen.

And Veronica? I don't see her either. Cold dread floods my stomach as I think the worst may have happened.

We're fucked. We're so, so fucked.

Above me, the sky curdles, shifts—and I feel a quake in my soul. Tendrils of black inky substance snake their way out of the crimson wound forming above us. The air turns sharp, acidic, burning my lungs with every inhale.

System notifications begin to flash across my vision.

[SYSTEM MESSAGE]

[WARNING: High-Level Dimensional Breach Immanent]

[Time to Breach: 3 minutes, 25 seconds]

A fucking portal to the Nether was about to rip itself open, right above Cleveland.

Er… Yeah. Did I mention we were fucked?

June 3rd: 60 days, 12 hours, and 25 minutes until Phase 2 of the Gods Game commences…

I'm about ten and a half miles into my new daily running routine when something that sounds like an exploding dumpster catches my attention and my [Aura Sense] Skill flares.

I'm running through the center of downtown Cleveland, on my usual route, making my way towards the lakefront, where I'll run all the way back to Edgewater, where I parked my car and started my loop. At Level 19, I'm able to maintain what would have been a full sprint about a month ago as my long-distance pace. Weightlifting in the morning, cardio in the afternoon.

But this isn't just running for the sake of cardio. In my right ear, my Bluetooth earbud crackles with the nasally voice of Pendleton Bushwick, the host of the podcast 'Gatewatchers.' It's the most popular podcast about all things Guilds and Gates. The show's popularity had exploded since its launch, and now it had massive sponsorship deals and snagged pretty significant guest appearances. Next week they were having Sarah Zorbas on—one of the five Captains of the most popular and powerful private Guild in the U.S., the Pegasus Guild—and also my ex-fiance. Yeah, not sure I will be streaming to that episode when it drops.

The episode I'm listening to is titled 'Is Gate-Crashing the New Cold War?'

Pendleton and his co-host are going off about the recent string of Gate-crashing attacks across the U.S. Organized crime syndicates had discovered a method of entering active, occupied Gates, ambushing the various Guild teams within. Private Guilds, Municipal Guilds… Heck, even Federal Gate Teams. It didn't matter. Apparently, it had the Guild community and the U.S. government in an absolute tizzy.

"It's not just about loot anymore," the co-host chimes in, "This is infrastructure and resource sabotage. De-stabilizing the economy, sowing panic. The Dow dropped almost 3,000 points after last week's incident when Wall Street saw five separate Gates crashed in a single afternoon. Forty percent! Over forty percent of all resources from those Gates were stolen!"

"Modern warfare," says Pendleton in agreement. "No more data breaches and hacks. They're coming after our Gates!..."

My runs are all about splitting my focus. While listening to the podcast and focusing on where I'm going, I activate my [Aura Sense] Skill. My mind splits and suddenly I have a moderate headache as half of my brain listens to the podcast and the other attempts to pick up on auras around me. I had gained the Skill a few days after exiting the Bronze Gate. When using the Skill, I'm able to see and sense auras in my immediate surrounding. Unfortunately, most people on Earth have weak auras. Even System-empowered individuals. Attempting to read auras while not putting my entire focus behind it, and running through the city at top speed was like trying to hear whispers through a nightclub wall.

It was a couple days ago, running along the lakefront that alarms blared in the half of my mind pumping [Aura Sense]. I looked up to see the source of the powerful aura. A woman, with glowing feathered wings extending from her shoulder blades. She soared between buildings before making a turn and disappearing from my line of sight. Still, her aura remained like a hammerblow to my mind's eye.

Freaking flying! I had thought in wonder. God, what I would do for a flight Spell. Then, I wouldn't need to drive my hunk of junk around town. System-empowered flight was rare and it was technically not allowed. But most cities didn't go through the effort of enforcing the rule if you didn't do anything too stupid or reckless, and stayed low enough to not interfere with aircraft flight. Just stay away from the airport and you were probably fine.

I switch focus. [Aura Sense] dials back, sliding into the background like a fire alarm with low batteries that I've chosen to ignore. My mind shifts gears, syncing with another Skill. I focus on my passive [Perception] Skill.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

My shoes continue to slap against the cracked sidewalk in rhythm as everything around me comes into sharper focus. The change is subtle. The podcast in my right ear is still droning on about Guild sabotage and political fallout, but now I also hear the soft clack of a bent street sign swaying in the breeze two blocks over. I catch the sour tang of something rotting and the faintest magical hum of an enchanted item through an open warehouse building as I pass by.

I spot movement in a second-story window. Nothing suspicious—just a kid watching me from behind a curtain, face pressed against the glass, squishing his nose into a snot-filled button against the translucent surface. But I can feel him watching me, like a ghost's fingers brushing against the back of my neck.

It's a feeling I try and ingrain into my mind, so I can recognize it when I'm purely relying on the passive version of the Skill. Since exiting the Bronze Gate, [Perception] had improved from a Tier 1 Skill up to a Tier 2 Skill. So, whatever I've been doing is working.

I stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to signal my right of way. I stretch, cracking my neck and adjust my grip on my Full Metal Staff. The staff is the last component of my running regimen. I carry it throughout every run, keeping its [Pumping Iron] Skill active the entire time.

I glance at the text across from my Health and Stamina bars.

[Active Skill: Pumping Iron]

[Stamina Consumption: Very High]

[Energy Storage: 0.20%]

The Full Metal Staff is a black iron barbell that could easily be lost in any standard meathead gym. Usually, it's not much heavier than a normal barbell, either. But thanks to its [Pumping Iron] Skill, running with it in my grip was an exercise of constant regret and struggle.

Skill: Pumping Iron

[Description: This Skill may only be activated while wielding the Full Metal Staff. The User is capable of storing energies created by their body into the staff itself for later use. Multiple forms of energy may be stored at the same time. The staff's weight increases with the amount of energy stored using this Skill. All stored energy will remain in stasis, even when the Skill is not active or when the staff is stored.]

The walk signal turns green and I start huffing it again. My biceps ripple and bulge as I grip the textured bar of the staff in my calloused hands. Running with the staff causes my Stamina bar to tick away at a faster-than-usual clip. I'm still figuring out what energies the staff is capable of storing, and what energies my body is capable of producing. But it didn't take long for me to learn Stamina worked just fine.

I bleed energy. The staff greedily drinks it.

[Pumping Iron] converts the agony of physical effort into something I can use later. And, after almost two weeks of putting a daily run's worth of residual Stamina into the staff, I've got something to show for it. A small disc of glowing blue energy has formed on either side of the staff. Each one is thin, and about the size of a two-and-a-half pound plate I would find at the gym. Despite their size, the weight is more than a guilt trip from my mother. Every step wielding the staff is a negotiation with my legs. Every breath feels like my lungs are filing an HR complaint with my brain to please stop!

I push myself harder, picking up the pace. I only stop to change the position of the staff, placing it across my shoulders as though I'm about to squat it.

That's when I hear the explosion. The sound is followed by a pulse that slams through my chest like a low-frequency shockwave, and a heartbeat later, [Aura Sense] lights up like a Vegas slot machine going into cardiac arrest.

I've only encountered this sensation one other time since exiting the Bronze Gate. I stop mid-sprint, pivot on aching legs, and suck in a sharp breath.

Eight days ago, I felt a similar sensation, and it led to a monster that had wandered from a recently opened Gate.

Monster Identified: Small Fungoid

Level: 5

Classification: Minor Sporeborn

The thing looked like a three-foot tall brown-capped mushroom with stubby legs and no arms. I found it snacking on a dead gull. After attempting to speak to the damned thing, it attacked my leg like a horny chihuahua and I had to smack it back to oblivion with one good swing of my Full Metal Staff. That's all it had taken.

I had found the Gate it had stumbled out of, but the Cleveland Municipal Forces were there five minutes later, securing the area.

The sensation I felt now was stronger. Much stronger.

I explode forward, leaning into a full sprint. The initial acceleration rocks the buildings near me and sets car alarms screaming. I jump a trash can, vault a parking meter, and burn down an alley so fast I bet my shadow's having a hard time keeping up.

All the while, I'm pouring my entire mental focus into [Aura Sense].

There! Something dashes over my head, crossing the alley from one low rooftop to the other. Whatever it is, it's big and isn't particularly keen on staying undetected. I track its aura, feeling like I've finally got a hold on how it feels.

Eventually, the monster lands on an old warehouse building with a long, flat rooftop. I round the building and leap, letting the full power of my System-enhanced Strength send me flying through the air and onto the rooftop, just in time to cut it off. Unfortunately, my landing is far less cool and I almost eat shit, stumbling forward and barely catching myself by using the Full Metal Staff, slamming it into the rooftop and putting a halt to my momentum.

The monster freezes in place and I finally get a good look at it.

Its got the body of an NFL linebacker crossed with a G.I. Joe villain. It wears a skin-tight, sleeveless bodysuit, which clings to its stone-gray skin. It's boulder-size shoulders extend down to two, thick arms rippling with muscle, ending in two human-like hands, though I can see the webbing between each digit. It has a cephalopod head, with squid-like tentacles flowing from the bottom half of its face like some kind of freaky beard. It stares at me with two intelligent gray-blue eyes.

I examine the creature.

New Monster Identified: Eldritch Mollusca

Level: 22

Classification: Deep Sea Lancer

Okay… Looks like Lake Erie may have a small Cthulhu problem. Or, the metro response team was slow to react to a recently-opened Gate. Probably the latter, but hey, we live in weird times.

I raise a hand and yell, "HEY! STOP!"

Pause.

"NO!"

Then it bolts. Turning and leaping off the rooftop in one, powerful jump.

And I can't help the wide grin that splits my face, like some kind of lunatic. I strike my pose, flex my biceps and cast [Wizard's Fist].

"Lefty! Righty! Don't let him get away!" I exclaim, pointing in the direction my cephalopod buddy just bounded.

Two spectral fists rip into existence beside me in twin puffs of cold, silvery mist. They rocket ahead of me, smashing HVAC units and displacing flocks of startled pigeons.

I deposit my Full Metal Staff into my Inventory and follow, but before I reach them I heard a garbled "Oomph! … Argh!" accompanied by the sound of fists slamming into kidneys.

The monster and my spectral fists are on a bike path beside the building, to our left are train tracks and beyond that is the grayish expanse of Lake Erie. It's swiping its hands at the fists, and quickly realizing that normal attacks won't work against the Spell. And just as he looks like he's going to make another break for it, I'm on him, spear tackling him around his waist and taking him to the ground. We hit the asphalt bike path like a demolition derby. Tentacles are flailing, limbs thrashing. I put my Jiu Jitsu lessons to work, getting behind him and wrapping my legs around his torso. I wrench his arms behind him.

"Stop resisting!" I grunt. "I don't wanna hurt you, I just want to talk!"

"Raaaaaagghhh!" it yells, bucking under me like a demonic bull. "Let go of me, surface worm!"

"No! Not until you chill the hell out!"

It freezes. Snarls. Then… pauses. Chest heaving, tentacles twitching. I slowly feel the tension bleed out of it like air from a popped tire.

"I will spare you this once," it growls. "But do not push me, landling."

"Fair enough, I appreciate it," I say, easing off. Not all the way, just enough to show a little good faith in the discussion. "I am Joe… Do you have a name?"

It's silent for a beat too long. Then…

"Yomhalde, the Deep."

"Okay, Yomhalde," I nod. "I'm gonna let you go. But you gotta promise you won't attack me… Or run. Deal?"

Another pause.

"These terms are… acceptable." The last word comes in the form of a suppressed whimper.

Yomhalde and I stroll down the condiments aisle of the downtown Heinen's.

He had made a quick pit stop at a Goodwill before coming here. So, I'm now walking alongside a squid monster wearing sunglasses, an oversized bucket hat, an open Hawaiian shirt and a pair of cargo shorts with flip flops.

Yomhalde clutches a jar in his hands, examining it like some kind of precious artifact. The sunglasses are barely holding onto his cephalopod face, resting awkwardly on his noseless brow ridge. I'd like to say this disguise makes him look less like a Lovecraftian Deep Sea horror. But it doesn't.

He turns to me, tentacles twitching. "These vials," he rumbles, voice low and gurgly. "What kind of arcane potions are these?"

I glance down at what he's holding. "Those… Are kosher dill pickles."

He stares at them with a deep reverence. "Fascinating…" he murmurs.

I nod. "Crunchy, vinegary. But not arcane in the slightest. And not what we've come here for, so put them back."

He sullenly places them onto the shelf.

The other shoppers we pass don't seem to care. One lady side-eyes us while grabbing aioli, but otherwise? Nothing. Which says a lot about how far this world has come since integrating with the System.

Back on the bike path we had wrestled on, Yomhalde had given me an explanation about why he had been on our side of the Gate to begin with.

In his Realm, he and his people live in a cavernous system beneath the sea. His tribe is starving. Barely scraping by. Then, a Gate appeared. His people had chosen Yomhalde to enter the Gate in search of food. The way he had described it to me, he was their hero. It was really touching.

"I'll help," I had told him. "But I need two things in return."

The first, was that as soon as I helped him secure food for his people, he was to go back through the Gate he had entered through.

Second, he would let me use his mana in a ritual spell. I promised him it wouldn't hurt him. After all, if I wanted to hurt him, I would have already done so. This seemed to be convincing enough. He nodded and agreed to my terms. And after only a little bit of trouble, I had myself an intelligent and cooperative monster. Exactly what I needed to cast [Pact of the Novice Scribe] to obtain a new Spell.

"Ah, here we are…!" I say, stopping not far from the deli counter where the man with the beard net slowly sinks behind a counter full of steaks and sausages. I gesture grandly.

The heat lamps hum with golden light, illuminating rows of plump, glistening rotisserie chickens. Each one is a thing of greasy beauty. The crispy skin on each chicken glistens.

Yomhalde leans forward, sniffs once, and makes a wet, delighted noise.

"I shall bring honor to my people," he whispers.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.