The New World

Chapter 36: Breaking the Rules

Chapter 36: Breaking the Rules

I scanned through a few of the books over the next few hours. It took a bit, but I got an idea of what the meta was for rune writing. None of it meshed in with what I understood about the process. Everything in a textbook applied but only in a vacuum, not in actual practice. It was the oddest thing I found about lots of texts. They dished out dense clusters of information, yet somehow, none of it ever applied to whatever I studied.

Even worse, this book mentioned mana channeling as a foolhardy, dangerous venture. Because of that, it gave no advice on the matter. It did warn why doing so was dangerous, however. The main reason culminated from the actual energy radiating through a person’s body. A sort of magical friction occured, some of the ambient power flooding in.

It was a lot like running power through a wire. If I sent too much mana, this magical friction increased. This heated the user’s body, eventually boiling their blood and brittling their bones. My channeling proved twice as dangerous, as I not only risked cooking myself. I used my own body to cook myself. It was like getting an oven to turn it on. In fact, the only reason my sigil markings worked at all was because of my unique circumstances.

My armor augmented my durability, and the metal acted as a great conductor for mana. That lessened the magical friction quite a bit. I also stockpiled regeneration, letting me undo most of the damage I dealt to myself. Even better, the runes acted as an insulator for this energy, stopping it from coursing through my actual body. The mental sensations I experienced came about because of mana overflowing and leaking out of those runes.

That came from my lack of experience. These books supplemented that experience for a normal magician, but they carried no context for my situation. In fact, they made the assumption no one could channel mana into themselves safely, so the books barely mentioned these ideas in any depth. They only rambled a bit about how terrible an idea it was. They never even got to using an actual soul for this channeling technique. That was beyond madness, according to the books.

And that was the reason these books served no real purpose for me. They focused a lot on overcoming limitations I simply didn’t have. So, instead of listening to a bunch of close minded philosophers, I set up shop and got to work. I channeled mana through a hand, loosening my skin’s grip on my armor. A couple violent ruptures later, and I amassed a pile of black metal. This was also likely not recommended by the books either.

But I digress.

Picking up a piece of dark metal, I turned it in my hand. It shined with a matte finish, kind of like a polished magnet. It stayed strut after trying to bend it, the skin actually becoming more robust since I leveled up. Placing my palm on a plate, I shoved down. It gave a bit, but proved harder than cast iron. It still lacked steel’s robustness, however. A few evolutions might change that.

Putting a hand over a different plate, I reached out to mold the armor as I did with the stuff all over me. It wobbled, though only by the slightest margin. If anything, it matched a vibration more than a motion. As before, evolving my armor would enhance my control further. With enough mastery, I might even bend different runic inscriptions into the armor after taking it off. That brought a smile to my face.

Explosive spears, sharpened shards, even shining swords, all of that weaponry could come from my skin. With runic inscriptions, I may even detonate those weapons when they impacted monsters. That exceeded my potential at the time, so I kept working within my limits. I amassed a big pile of the metal. Such a tall stack, actually, that it weighed as much as I did. Gawking down at my armor, I discovered that I lacked hunger at all.

Raising a brow, I rubbed my temples. This whole stacking armor with no hunger thing…It kind of defied Newton’s law of conservation. Peering at my armor, I wondered what other secrets it held. Not having time to dwell on that, I picked up several good looking slabs of the dark metal before carrying them out of my room. I placed them onto an empty spot on the workbenches Torix set up. Sitting down, I carved runes.

I figured making something out of the plates would be both useful and calming. I started my crafting journey off with the most basic piece of armor I could make – a shield. Using my fist like a hammer, I broke off bits of the shield by slamming my fist into the edges of the plate. In minutes, Torix cast a silencing magic over me, grumbling all the while. I’ll admit, I may have been as loud as a bottle of thunder bursting.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Anyways, I encapsulated myself in the calm of crafting. Like a madman, I smashed that plate over and over. Stress relieving and somewhat productive, I created a roughly triangular shape. Using my gauntleted hands, I scraped the edges of the shield, smoothing them out.

It took all I had in me to make that happen. It was enough.

Skill unlocked! Craftsmanship | Level 1 – You are the maker of what you imagine. +1% to ease and precision of crafting.

The skill leveled with time, and each level bumped off a bit of difficulty for molding the metal. Putting both hands over the plate’s sides, I grasped and pushed my knee into the middle. I pried it down, caving the middle portion of the plate inward. This created a nice concave shape to the shield. If I placed the back of my palm against it, the points of contact would meld together over a minute or two.

The bonds held strong enough that the result satisfied me. With the shaping of the shield handled, I decided on several sets of runes I’d use for the shield’s enchantments. After a bit of brainstorming, I added in the markings for safety, peace, and calm, engraving them in the upper right portion of the shield. Looking at them reminded me of floating underwater with my eyes closed. I could just completely let go and relax. Ah.

After I made those runes, I carved the runes for stability and balance into the upper left side of the shield. Stability and balance came together in perfect harmony like listening to the gush of an ocean’s waves or the rumble of heavy rain. Unfortunately, all the patches of runes lacked that same concordance. The two different meanings dampened each other’s effects, making the shield dissonant and less effective.

I aimed to change that.

At the bottom of the shield, I chiseled the sigils for unity and love. A little cheesy, sure, but it got the job done. With a heavy pressing of my hand, I sliced long rivets into the shield between each set of runes. I etched a few runes on these connections, ensuring they made the runes connect. I pulsed mana through it, and golly, the thing worked. Gee willikers.

Skill unlocked! Enchanting | Level 1 – You give life to what you envision. +1% to the effect of enchantments.

The skill unlocked as I completed the last rune. When I finished polishing the shield, I lifted it up and glanced at my handiwork. Rough, choppy, and jagged, the shield beamed out with an amateur shoddiness that radiated in an undeniable fashion. I grinned at the terrible piece of equipment, it being my first work. Setting it aside, my eyes kept returning to it along with a deep sense of satisfaction. Terrible or not, I made it, and it was mine.

I spent so much time in my life running around without owning anything. Even before the system arrived, I slept on a couch with only my boxing gloves to my name. They smelled awful, and the leather fell off all over the place, making a mess. This shield outdid those twenty buck gloves from Amazon. Sparking memories, I used Kelsey’s account to buy those gloves. I waved off some unease, keeping myself dialed in.

For that moment, I thought about myself. And making something on my own, it documented a nice shift in my mindset. I may have owned nothing, but in time, I could amass a fortune of my own skin artifacts. I wrinkled my brow at that thought, kind of disgusted. Peering at the glossy sheen of the shield, I smiled.

Nobody would ever know. Heh. My eyes widened at an update in my status.

Enchanted Plate of Skin | Level Requirement: 100 – This shield is a hastily made object with a few basic runes carved into it to enhance its protective qualities. While not nearly as powerful as it could be, the unknown material carries excellent qualities. Being hard as quartz but flexible as polyglass, the metal can sustain severe punishment before shattering.

Effects:

Living Metal: Takes damage in place of the user if hit. The shield may use health or mana to be repaired after taking damage. This effect can occur without the user’s consent if mental strength isn’t high.

Total Health pool remaining: 1,000/1,000 | Damage Resistance: 90% | Effective Health Added: 300

Mark of Balance: Reduces force of impact on shield by 50%. Doesn’t reduce damage, just the effect of force on the user. When the health of the shield reaches zero, this effect is omitted.

I raised my hands in victory, even Schema recognizing my tiny breakthrough. The shield paled in comparison to most artifacts, but it was worth using. The whole process left me refreshed and ready for more. In all honesty, I didn’t even know how long I’d been sitting there. It didn’t really matter to me either. In my eyes, it was time well spent, and considering the situation, what more could I ask for?

Diving right back in, the shield added little to my actual health pool or anyone’s for that matter. Resolving to fix the issues, I paced back to my room and retrieved another plate from the stack of my piled up armor skin. After walking back, I froze in place. Althea worked on the same workbench as me, and she crafted these disgusting green sacks with her hands. She frowned at one, poking it with a finger,

“Gah…These are so gross.”

I walked up, “They definitely are. What’s wrong with that?”

She laid her head in front of the fleshy, swirling packet of green, “These are super nasty, and I want them to be…I don’t know, cuter, I guess?”

I poked one with a finger knuckle. It wobbled, “Huh…What about drawing a smiley face on them?” I winced, “Kind of a morbid thought. ”

Althea raised a brow at me, “What’s a smiley face?”

I drew one into the inner part of my shield. I turned it to her, “It’s like this.”

“Ah, that can totally work.”

I lifted the shield, “Speaking of work, could you work with this?”

She turned and clamped her fingers onto the shield, “What’s it for?”

“A shield. It’s barely any extra health for me, so I figured you might be able to use it.”

I turned around and walked off before Althea smiled at it, “Woah…Thanks.”

I waved, “No problem. I might not have to take an explosion for you next time if you have that.”

“Oh haha. Very funny.”

I sat back down at the table before brainstorming for a few more minutes. Defensive gear wouldn’t do much for me since the spare metal was weaker than the armor on me. Offensive gear opened up more opportunities as a whole. I walked back into my room and carried a pile of my skin in my arms. I set it into the main room with a cacophony of clanking.

Torix kept his eyes on his charts, but he mouthed, “Keep tearing your own skin off like that, and you’ll run right through my rations.”

I leaned over the pile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I toyed with the different pieces of metal, connecting runic inscriptions on different pieces. The unending tension of the last few weeks melted away as I did. Focusing on creation instead of destruction helped me take my mind off all the stressful aspects of my life too. It even acted as a pleasant mix up from the blood and guts that permeated my fighting.

Meandering with the plates, I found more and more limitations with the skin as it was. An evolution and a few level ups would ease the entire process. After hitting a particularly frustrating kink in the process, I let an armor piece slap the table. Leaning back, I opened my status and looked at the time. After the crafting breaks, I straightened myself out and fully functioned. Taking a breath, I stood and turned to Althea and Torix.

I spread my hands, “I think I’m ready to head out. I want to test some of the stuff I made too.”

Torix turned, one fire eye narrow and the other fire eye wide, “Are you certain?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Torix sent a message using his interface with Schema, “Then here is the route you and the others shall follow. Fight enemies here, here, and here at these select times. That shall avoid the normal routes of the Followers, and I’ll update you if anything goes awry in the meantime. Considering the defensive posture they’ve taken, we shouldn’t run into any problems.”

I read through the long list of data, “Man, you’re so thorough.”

Torix tilted his nose up without thinking, “Oh, well it’s good of you to notice. I do put in an effort to maintain my reputation.”

Kessiah burst into the room through the entrance. Having heard us through the wall, Kessiah frowned,

“I thought we’d be trapped here forever. Blugh, it’s time to do anything but just lay around. I’m literally bored out of my mind.”

We collected all of our relevant equipment. Althea kept a bag of glowing, green grenades under her robe. She carried my crafted shield on her left arm and her usual rifle composed her right arm. If she regenerated that shield, it might be way more useful for her than I first imagined it would be. On the other hand, I carried a bag full of random trinkets I crafted in the meantime. Kessiah kept nothing on hand, needing nothing besides her enormous number of levels.

We all walked out, Althea and Kessiah popping up with their steps. Mine were heavy but prepared. I understood what I walked into, and a piece of dreaded it. Kessiah walked out with an obelisk in her hand, guiding us out towards Springfield. She skipped a bit between each step, brimming with growing, bubbly excitement. When we reached outside the suburbs, Kessiah turned to us, “You guys ready for a little bit of blood?”

Althea nodded, “Uhm, we have to be, right?”

My nerves raced at thoughts of the deformed monsters. I peered forward with an unblinking gaze, “We do.”

Kessiah raised a brow, “You scared, tough guy?”

I stopped my hands from shaking as I gazed at her, “Yeah. I am.”

Kessiah smirked, “Huh. I expected more out of you.”

I furrowed my brow, grimacing towards my hometown, “Anyone can be brave without fear. Few can show courage in the face of it.”

Kessiah raised her hands, “Wow, you got catch phrases now, huh?”

I ignored her, mentally preparing myself for what was to come. Disappointed I didn’t take the bait, Kessiah tsked before bursting into a sprint. We bolted behind her, keeping up. Kessiah shouted over the wind in our ears,

“I’m going to keep pretty close to you two, but it’ll be up to the both of you to handle these monsters on your own.”

Althea and I nodded. Kessiah pointed at herself, “Make sure you don’t overextend yourself, and maybe try to work together. Your skills mesh well, so don’t let that go to waste.”

We sprinted through the fields and forests on our way towards Springfield. The whole trip drenched us in an unnerving calm. A cold sweat formed over my forehead, my nerves making me all jittery. Even though my mind accepted all that I had seen when I first entered the quarantine zone, anxiety riddled my chest and hands. As time passed, I gained a better understanding of where my adrenaline came from.

It wasn’t fear. It was incitement. I wanted to rip and tear.

Glad that at least some part of me looked forward to this, we reached the edges of the suburbs where the steel legion’s blockade lined the infected areas. More deformed bodies piled in the distance, holes from bullets littering their torsos and skulls. Less panicky than when I first arrived at the barricade, more details popped out to me.

Across every suburban block, the Force of Iron guarded a generator. Two circular pieces of metal spiralled around a blue core that shot out arcs of lightning at regular intervals. Runic markings covered those generators, and antennas stuck out the top of them. These streaks of blue electricity dispersed out into a field that contained the petal bugs. It strengthened the higher up I looked, the field eventually becoming brittle near the ground.

It stopped the spread of the infectors but not the infected. The ground troops handled that part. They relied much more on killing the creatures from a distance than locking them in. So far, it worked well enough. Trucks drove down the road and unloaded shipments of ammo at supply points. Those revamped factories near the warehouse district handled the production, supplying the whole operation. That’s why they put themselve in the industrial area to begin with. It was a smart move.

Walking up to the well supplied soldiers, I wished they lacked the foresight for that base. Their abundant resources made piercing the barricade much harder. That being said, Kessiah dwarfed their levels to the point of muting their strengths entirely. With her hands in her pockets, she strode up to the base. She smiled at them, oozing confidence, composure, and dominance. She announced,

“Hello boys and girls. I hope you don’t mind us walking into the quarantine zone. Otherwise, I’m going to have to force my way in. You don’t want me to force my way in.” Kessiah raised her eyebrows, “Unless you want to play for a while.”

The soldiers glanced at one another, confusion spreading through their ranks. My blood ran cold because I understood the context behind Kessiah’s words. Her threats were like throwing a live grenade at a child with the pin pulled. Everyone here flopped about, unaware of what they held in their hands. The soldier’s commanding officer replied with a loudspeaker and spoke back,

“Schema has now ordered us to let anyone enter the zone if they want to. We are not responsible for saving you. Good hunting.”

The commanding officer walked out, a woman covered in metal armor. She waved her hand, signalling Althea and I to follow. I grimaced at how easily Kessiah got in. After all the work I put in, I could’ve just walked in whenever. Kessiah leaned over to me and murmured,

“Don’t look so down. They would’ve tried killing you for the experience. Your level was low, after all.”

A bad taste spawned in my mouth before Kessiah gave me a pat on the back. She whispered, “That’s what being an unknown is all about – knives in the back and shots to the face. Breathe it in, young buck. You might as well get used to it.”

It wouldn’t take much longer before the soldier’s posed no threat to me, so the unknown status wouldn’t matter thereafter. Casually being threatened still rubbed me the wrong way all the same. Staring at Kessiah’s back, it made me wonder how many times she suffered from that kind of experience. It must’ve been countless occasions. Given her being a remnant, Kessiah never lived a life without being hunted.

I couldn’t even imagine what that must be like.

The culmination of those experiences explained Kessiah’s relentless cynicism. She lived in a world that bit her from all sides. She learned early on to bite back. I happened to be a convenient person to attack or something along those lines because Kessiah didn’t give Althea a hard time like she did me. I wondered where the animosity stemmed from, but all I could do was hope for answers in time.

Passing the barricade, haunting howls leaked in from all directions. I centered myself back in the moment. We walked across the barricaded entrance before a girl guard walked out in front of us. She pointed her rifle at some of the infected in the distance,

“Hey. Aim for the cores, don’t let them touch you, and try to stay moving. They can overwhelm you if you let them collect into a swarm. Bullets don’t work unless you hit the cores, and fire can hold them down for a while. They’re tougher than they look, so be mindful.”

Kessiah patted her shoulder, “Thanks honey. We’ll keep it in mind.”

The guard coughed into a hand, “I-I know you probably don’t need the tips, but I’ve seen quite a few people go in there and die already. I figured it might help.”

Kessiah tapped where the guard’s nose would be if not for her helmet. Kessiah chimed, “You’re cute. You know that?”

The female guard trotted off, her embarrassment leaking out even through her metal armor. We walked by before reaching the first line of houses. Fresh blood and bloody flesh scattered everywhere. Monsters roamed. Fires burned. My hands trembled, but my armor roared out in my mind. It wanted food, and it would have it.

I lowered my gaze, mana channeling into my runes. I intended on being awake this time. From my channeling last night, I learned my own mana could overwhelm me if I let it. To stop that, I put a chain on my usage this time, keeping it tidy and maintained. Kessiah turned to me before tilting her head,

“Hm, normally I’d say using mana like that might expose us, but there are quite a few people fighting in the quarantine zone. People from other planets will be coming to help with the quest as well…If we’re lucky. News will have to leak out first, but after that, we’ll be in a good situation. They’ll have some insane energy signatures, so we won’t stick out after that.”

I ramped up the energy into my runes, charging them with the orange energy and coarse lightning. Strength flowed into my limbs before I clamped my fists. I smashed my fists together, “I’ll lead the way.”

Kessiah scoffed, “Go for it little man. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

I bent down, “Alright. Keep your distance. I’ll be using an aura, and it’ll damage the both of you.”

Althea raised her palms, “So, like, I had no plans on going out there anyways. I’m taking out who I can with potshots for a while. You go take ’em out, chief. I’ll, uhm, sit back and watch.”

After giving her a curt nod, I sprinted forward. Once I reached about a block ahead of them, I ramped up Oppression. It molded at my thoughts, a part of my being. I shifted the aura a little, trying to keep it from stretching its full distance. It dipped down to where I could see, putting a lot of pressure off me. The last thing I wanted was to kill someone struggling to survive out here. Piercing deeper into the town, I figured out that dealing with survivors wasn’t going to be a problem.

We stayed on Torix’s route, avoiding fights while heading to the points of combat the necromancer mentioned. After a few rows of houses, mushrooms and other fungi rooted in the ground. Colored a sickly yellow, the funguses looked like collections of bodies molded together and reformed into plantlife. These biological horrors expanded and swelled as we explored deeper into Springfield.

I gawked in horror as familiar landmarks eroded into mere shadows of their former glory. We passed neighborhoods I remembered from a longtime ago, having passed them on my school bus. Deformed abominations took the place of humans there, the shambling monstrosities overtaking any semblance of humanity. Everyone already died in these residential areas, most of them murdered in violent waves of the newly infested.

The haunting sights didn’t end there. They rained in one after the other. We passed my old elementary school, the building converting into a dungeon since the last time I saw it. Yawm’s wildlife smothered the area, and a few escaped dungeon monsters duked it out with the encroaching fungal beasts. Blood took the place of chattering children. Splattering corpses replaced the sound of closing lockers. Congealing meat replaced the smells of pencils and erasers.

In the courtyard of the school, backpacks circled hopscotch circles and a pile of jump ropes. When the system arrived, children played in the middle of some activity. The monsters ripped a few of the backpacks and knocked over some of those supplies, ripping it all apart. We left the bloody battle after I soaked in a few of the monster’s corpses. It had to be done.

Those dilapidated places hurt to see, but the worst sight, by far, was my old boxing gym. Outlast crumbled into a shadow of its previous self, the entire building torn to shreds. Windows broke. Dust settled. Several fungi grew from the walls, and a large human moss pushed the gym’s sign aside. It was like the encroaching ecosystem was dismantling my old memories of this place, replacing them with the horrors of Yawm.

Because I asked, we walked into the gym for a while, but no living person lingered here. As we left, I kept my memories of that place close to my chest. Like everything else here, this place turned into a memory. I aimed to keep it fresh and close to home, not let it be turned into this decayed corpse of a place.

Other places left their marks on me, but we kept moving. At first, seeing the decay left me hollowed out like some gutted animal. This infestation destroyed my home. It was like my entire life scrubbed clean, no person, place, or thing lingering from my past. It gave me a feeling of loneliness as we skulked through those abandoned streets, torn houses, and old homes. In time, the desolation spawned something else in me.

A dark, embittering fury.

Yawm would pay for what he did here. He’d pay for what he did to my friends, my home, even my memories of this place. I’d tear his face off and make him wear the dried skin. Peering at my status, I stood no chance of even slowing a follower down, let alone Yawm. Unlike everyone in Springfield, I still lived, so I could change. I’d break down who I was and turn myself into something indomitable. If I needed to, I’d become a monster to kill one.

And that would be easy here where monsters roamed in abundance. Black veins traced the stems and stalks of every shrub, lichen, or tree. Thanks to Oppression, the plants wilted in two minutes while we passed by. We carved out a slice of the growing ecosystem, forging a path here. More of the plants came together in the deeper sections of the city, the roots connecting into dense foliage. No longer did the plants pile up like bodies. Instead, they conjoined up into trees without leaves, some with buds on them.

Once we pierced deep enough, pods covered those trees. Inside them, monstrosities formed. They peered at us with beady eyes through the thin, translucent covers insulating them. Once I reached close enough that a pod got in range of Oppression, a pod’s eyes locked in on us. The beasts swelled and pulsed from within their pods. One of the monsters popped out. A wet slush of material landed on the ground before a pair of eyes glanced up at us.

It was perfect, because Torix sent us to handle our first batch of enemies here. Gawking at the beast, I bore holes through it with my eyes, my armor grinning but my own lips forming a scowl. Kessiah meant safety wasn’t a concern, and gaining experience took priority. Mana rippled across my skin as I narrowed my eyes.

I’d avenge my home and the people who died here. I’d gore these monsters to pulp. It was time for battle. It was time for war.