All-encompassing darkness surrounded me as I stepped through the gate. The cold felt like ice crawling inside me, and I gripped the rifle tighter against my chest. My heartbeat hammered in my ears like a drum, offering no reassurance. Desperate, I reached for my last resort—the small pink gem necklace around my neck. It was a simple thing, yet it steadied my racing pulse. The oppressive weight faded, replaced by a soothing warmth, like sinking into a hot bath after a long day of marching and training.
Sweat gathered on my brow for a moment, but I dismissed the discomfort as the darkness broke apart. I opened my eyes wider, confused, before I realized I stood atop a rocky hill overlooking a field of golden-brown grass. Similar outcrops dotted the field, close enough that someone like me could cross between them quickly. I scanned the other vantage points and clutched the rifle closer. Figures crowded them—most armed with melee weapons, a few with bows and rifles.
I glanced behind me and saw my "neighbors": a red-skinned man who thought it was a good idea to appear on this obvious battlefield with only his private parts covered and a spear in hand. He clearly lacked brains, as the only method of combat available to him was the spear. He could have lacked the financial means to procure better equipment; however, he was either even more lacking in the gray matter region or he had some ace in the hole. I couldn't dismiss the possibility that the humanoid had some form of strength amplification or extra-durable skin; a Stalker had taught me these lessons early in my career. Stalkers were specialized insectoids—diminutive but fast, with sickle-like blade hands—that cost my first squad heavy casualties. I would have to aim for soft tissue, the eyes first to blind or kill him, or the joints to destabilize him. I didn't want to use my FEAR grenades, but I had to be ready.
The most pressing issue was the large alien creature. It had multiple eyes across its spherical skull, making any sneak attack—especially while dealing with the red-skinned fighter—quite difficult. Smoke bombs or a flashbang would disorient both quickly. Nevertheless, its sheer bulk worried me. A well-placed shot with Stinger might send enough pellets to blow a sizable hole into that bastard, but that was contingent on whether standard small-arms fire could penetrate its hide.
My lack of information made me uncomfortable. I couldn't consider a peaceful option at present, given how frightening and dangerous the mocking rabbit god was. Such a creature wouldn't be the guardian of a leisurely walk in the park. I tightened my grip on the rifle and sank into a crouch, ready to back out of the spear's range and thumb a flashbang the second those new threats moved. I hoped my instincts and fears were wrong, but Eldea had taught me that even your friends could stab you in the back just to escape.
It seemed that my neighbors had noticed my aggressive stance, but before any of us could spring into action, we heard it.
"MIKE TEST! ONE! TWO! THREE!"
I almost threw a flashbang, then caught myself. It had to be a public-address system. Where was the infrastructure, though? The field stretched at least a kilometer across—too wide for a single speaker. Maybe they were relaying through hidden nodes in the valleys. Then I looked up and saw the source: a sizable yellow cube floating in the air, and—beyond it—the fortress.
"How was that possible? The only idea I had was that it floated due to some kind of material similar to a Dread Flyer's inner gelatinous lining, which allows it to float like a hot-air balloon. Maybe this strange place had a similar beast, and its parts were easier to use than that fragile thing—or perhaps it was metal. Yes, metal or mineral seemed the most likely explanation, given the large structure in the distance."
"HELLO EVERYONE! 'REGULAR MEMBERS' WHO HAVE ENTERED THE TOWER!! THIS IS THE SECOND FLOOR AND I SINCERELY WELCOME YOU TO EVANKHELL'S FLOOR. THIS EVANKHELL'S FLOOR IS ALSO CALLED THE 'FLOOR OF TEST'! BECAUSE THIS IS THE LEVEL WHERE YOU ARE DEEMED WORTHY OF CLIMBING THIS TOWER!"
Tests? I could handle myself pretty well in any physical contest; all of the Eldean children were forced to participate in rigorous physical activity around the age of 10 to prepare against the incoming red tides. However, my knowledge regarding this land was certainly spotty. Whatever merchants did appear spoke little, and even my best attempts couldn't squirrel any info from them about the larger world. Now that I had a moment to think about—
"—THE FIRST TEST IS VERY SIMPLE! I WILL BEGIN ANNOUNCING THE RULES, SO LISTEN CAREFULLY! THE FOLLOWING ARE THE RULES FOR THE FIRST TEST! THE NUMBER OF REGULAR MEMBERS IN THIS FLOOR TOTALS '400'! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS TO MAKE THAT 400 GO DOWN TO 200! METHOD? BY ANY MEANS!! THE MOMENT THE NUMBER OF REGULAR MEMBERS GO DOWN TO 200, THIS TEST WILL END. THEN EVERYONE TRY YOUR BEST."
I didn't waste time. The flashbang arced toward them. The red-skinned man flinched, too slow to shield his eyes. The giant only stared at it like he had never seen a grenade before. Then it went off—blinding them instantly, since they weren't wearing specialized helmets.
While they staggered, I fired at whatever soft tissues I imagined wouldn't be so tough: eyes, joints, throat. My rounds punched through, surprising me for a second. I had expected greater resistance, but all it took were well-placed bullets that tore into their weak spots. It looked like it killed the red man on the spot, the rounds cleanly exiting out of the back of his skull.
The many-eyed colossus struggled, clawing at his eyes and throat, surviving the initial volley for a moment before I ended his pitiful fight with a shot to the center of his skull. I put another round into the red-skinned humanoid as well, to assure myself of his death. I couldn't exactly say for certain that none of them possessed some form of post-mortem ability or means to stay alive with a bullet going through their brain.
I felt my brain buzz with adrenaline as I crouched lower to the ground. Assessing with greater detail my surroundings, I saw the endless expanse of wheat-colored grass once more. There was a greater hill a bit further away, which should be crossable in a few mere moments. It would offer me a better vantage spot where I could easily pick off any stragglers or pursuers coming upon my position. But the worrisome thing was the distinct glare of a scope, beaming every time the fellow there moved from one target to another with his weapon.
"I could maybe charge their position. However, it would be too risky. I would face relentless fire from that side, as even a rat would know when a cat is moving to it with no abandon."
"Tsk." I checked my rifle thoroughly for any damage and looked down at the field once again. I should move to a better position so that the hill's peak covered me from the sniper. It was at that moment that I saw it.
A green chitinous monstrosity bearing a shrimp's head munching upon a child's head. It let out what I assumed were gleeful chirps and content sounds as it mercilessly tore the poor boy. The child, barely 13 or so, spasmed in his final death throes. Clearly the lad's last moments were not painless. At that moment, I felt my eyes turn red as I remembered.
"Archibald, mauled in the final war. Albert, eaten alive on our first expedition. Norman, dissolved inside a Dread Flyer. Alice, crushed beneath a Brood Mother. All of them—family, friends, companions, lovers—dead. All because of the insectoids. Because I couldn't move in time. Because I wasn't good enough. Because I was foolish. Because I thought myself great. And now another is dead to these monsters. All… because I couldn't kill them all."
I charged without a care in the world. A guttural roar of fury exploded from me as I jumped down, ignoring how my knees rattled a bit from the fall. I unloaded the rest of my magazine into that beast's torso and head, crossing the distance like an arrow across the field.
The beast seemed frightened by the sudden disruption of its attack upon the child's brain, and its exoskeleton was soon punctured, its innards turned to mush from my heavy fire from my Bastion rifle. I didn't stop, however. Once I arrived at whatever remained of that bastard, I struck it with my rifle stock. I kept bashing its skull with my fist and rifle stock until its head was turned into paste.
SCULRCH, SCULRCH, SCULRCH, Scurlch, sculrch.
"I knew it was foolish to charge, but the thought never entered my mind. There was no plan, no strategy — only rage. Only the memory of all the faces I had lost."
My breath turned ragged from beating the monster mercilessly as the adrenaline drained away. I was left with two corpses. Taking out a small knife, I stabbed the shaking child into the skull, ending his final death throes. I could only do so much; even my meager medical skills told me an exposed brain and missing parts of it were final. I hoped the boy was resting in whatever afterlife welcomed him. I breathed deeply, easing myself back into the mindset as I took out two of my incendiary grenades and threw them on both corpses after priming them.
I-G Mk.III
Incendiary Grenade
Type: Thermal Ordnance, Grenade
Weight: 0.4 kg
Durability: Single-use
Fuse Time: 1.4 s
Effect: Detonates with an incendiary burst in a 1 m radius, igniting all flammable materials within range. Creates sustained fire that lasts 12 seconds, independent of external fuel. Effective for area denial and forcing targets from cover.
It was a waste, as I could have piled them on top of one another and destroyed any chances of that creature having some grotesque means of reproduction. But I couldn't allow the child to lie close to its killer. I couldn't allow it, despite Eldean code telling me I must not waste resources on sentimentality.
It was foolish of me to charge so carelessly upon the enemy, but glancing at the smoldering corpses I remembered everybody who died in Eldea and understood that it had some meaning to me and whatever remnants of a normal man stayed behind with me.
I reloaded my rifle and ignored the spreading fire behind me, as it would serve as good enough cover from the sniper. The dried grass would spread the fire far and create enough chaos for sneak attacks from medium distance. As I prepared to charge forward, I saw a figure approach me.
He was younger and shorter than I, looked to be around 15 or so. He had chin-length light blue hair with a dark blue bandana covering one side of his bangs. He had pallid skin with dark blue eyes that I always saw among many of the politicians of Eldea. He even dressed sharply as them, but at least he didn't wear those disgusting robes that dragged behind them like a load of garbage.
As he approached me, I pointed Bastion in his direction, indicating for him to stop. While he was of age, he was still too young to be considered old enough to realize the mistake of stepping in a warzone. Therefore, I would give him this courtesy at the very least…
Albert smiled mischievously after managing to pull another prank on me. His pale blue hair and dark blue eyes shined brightly against his pale skin as he rolled on the floor laughing at my plight…
Albert, my best friend from childhood, stood before me, at the same age he died and now sitting before my eyes. I didn't manage to see him clearly due to the intensity of the moment and the fire partially covering his features, but that was Albert. My first instinct was to rush and hug him, but I steeled my heart. Eldea had plenty of stories of doppelgangers and shapeshifters—I couldn't afford to let my past send me to an early grave. The young man smiled in the same way Albert would when he had a plan afoot.
"Hello there, friend… How about we make a deal?"