The Systemic Lands

Chapter 257: Day 535 (6) – Viewpoints 23

Chapter 257: Day 535 (6) – Viewpoints 23

Yaakov

“Ahhh!” The soldier screamed as the flesh of his melted. He had climbed up on one of the pulsing red worms stabbing down with his sword. He stayed on the worm too long. Now his feet were melting even after he had fallen off the monster and was danger of being crushed as it trashed about. More cries went up from the wounded and dying.

I rushed in with my spear and stabbed out. It only penetrated a slight way into the monster but melted the flesh. I had been granted one of the rare pieces of enchanted equipment in reserve. I quickly retreated before my spear could melt.

I stabbed out again. The monster stopped moving and then turned into a cloud of dust, before that dust too disappeared. Several people tumbled to the ground where they had been standing on it. As well as bits of flesh and gear that had been left behind.

“Come on people!” One of the soldiers shouted and waved his sword. Everyone was exhausted but we pushed forward to tackle the next worm.

“Acid Shot! Acid Shot!” One of the Union people in green melted some flying monsters that had been coming in at our flank.

I hadn’t understood the horror of this place before, but now I realized. It was a life and death struggle even within the city itself. Having met the Champion, it was hard to imagine one man fighting and killing such monstrosities.

I stabbed forward into the worm and was forced to retreat without my weapon, as it melted away. “Ahhhh!” A woman screamed as she hacked into the monster with a sword. Despite being in gray, she had stats since she could stand near the oppressive heat for longer than a second.

The worm turned to dust. I looked around as a cheer went up. I raised my hands despite my exhaustion and cheered as well.

Clarissa

“General Smith,” I greeted the man as I watched the battle unfold beneath me. We were holding on and would soon triumph over this wave. “I hope there is good news?” I asked. While I had my own summoner to survey the battlefield from on high, I wanted to hear his opinion.

“Chief Administrator Clarissa,” he replied while one of my maids handed him a cup of water which he gladly accepted. I could see he was worn and tired. “The city walls are holding for now. The outer worms were killed by our reserve forces, we won the plaza, and Champion Michael took out the Ritualist’s supplies if our long range observations were correct.”

It was frankly impressive how his soldiers leapt onto the worms seeking to tear down the outer walls. It had been timed quite well from what my summoner had reported. A credit to General Smith’s intensive training and focus on utilizing high Body stats in combat. The lesson Michael had pointed out from Gertrude had not been lost. High stats alone did not make capable fighters.

“I received the same information. So, a temporary victory, but an important one,” I replied. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to use my trump cards and would be able to keep them in reserve. It would be a lot of points to spend. But nothing was more important than survival. Even Champion Michael, though I would never say this to his face.

“At least the ground becomes harder to disturb the closer you to the plaza. Otherwise, those worms would have ripped everything right out from under our feet,” General Smith let out a long sigh. “Still, the Ritualist has 2,000 or so troops left. I suspect he will commit another massive wave. We barely survived the last one.”

“We will activate the City Shield then. Once the monsters are near the plaza. The lack of direct control will make the hybrids much less dangerous. And we can easily pick them off. The worms are summons, so they will dust,” I replied while scanning the air and the state of the plaza. General Smith stepped up next to me to look out as well.

“The bad news is the city is engulfed. We could affect a breakout, but I am guessing no for now?” the General asked.

“No. You no Champion Michael will never accept a retreat and that there is nowhere to retreat to. I am surprised you are even bringing it up,” I said and glanced at the General out of the corner of my eye. He shrugged at my response.

“Just wanted you to know. I am putting the Ritualist’s main force around 1,200 to the East, with another 250 at each gate. I have recalled my forces to the plaza. My only move left is the City Shield,” General Smith said with the understanding that I would decide on the activation and me alone.

“We will wait General, until waiting is no longer an option,” I replied.

“I notice you are keeping your people back,” he criticized. I turned to stare at him and slowly nodded.

“Yes I am. My trump cards, that I am holding in reserve. The outer wall and the scope of the battle are yours. The City Shield and my trump cards are mine.” We had discussed this before, but apparently the recent fighting had rattled his head.

“As you say Chief Administrator Clarissa. We are losing good people,” he said with a heavy voice.

“I understand. But my trump cards have only a single chance of working. I won’t risk salvaging the situation at a critical moment, just to save some lives. Lives are cheap general, trumps aren’t, points even more so,” I countered.

“Well, it is what it is. We are almost out of crafting crystals and the East portion of our inner defenses has been smashed.” We both looked at the ruined portion of the buildings. It would be annoying to keep them out of sight in order to have them repair themselves automatically.

Doctor Ben Katz

“Black,” I said after looking at the 40% burns covering the man. He had no chance of living unless he got a restoration. That wasn’t going to happen. Medical treatment was prioritized by color. Gray shirts weren’t worth giving restorations. Only red shirts and green shirts got restorations, since they had stats and more points had been invested into them.

It was frustrating since I could save so many more people, due to the gray shirts costing less to heal. But those were the medical decisions from on high. There would be no universal health care in Purgatory, there just weren’t enough resources.

Black meant they were going to die and to end their suffering. My assistant tied a black piece of cloth around their foot. This meant they were the lowest priority. “Red priority,” I said looking at the man’s melted hand and partially burned face. He was breathing shallowly, but he was alive and was wearing a captain’s uniform of the RMPF.

He was quickly carried off to get a restoration. I could save 20 to 40 gray shirts with the points it cost to restore that one man. Wear the right color, get the life saving system restoration. Wear gray, and you were just cannon fodder. I moved onto the next person who had been brought to the triage station near the pillars.

“Yellow,” I said, since they would live and had minor injuries, but they weren’t a priority for a restoration, another gray shirt. A minor injury was a broken bone, arm bent the wrong way. I could only hope he would get treatment after the battle. I knew I would have to fight tooth and nail for points to heal these people. My assistant tied a yellow strip of cloth around the man’s foot before we moved onto the next person.

“Yellow,” I said with a look at a green uniformed woman. She would live even with her foot crushed. There were only so many crystals and points. The priority had to go to heavy combat fighters for the front lines. She had a low number of stat points based on the energy I could sense from her, and her injuries weren’t burn injuries, indicating she hadn’t been up close and personal with the worms. That meant she didn’t priority treatment.

I kept triaging people as I remembered my arrival in this very plaza. It had been nightmare then, and it was a nightmare now. At least there was more organization, but the enemy was more organized as well. I could only hope that Michael hadn’t blown himself to bits and would emerge victorious.

“Black,” I said looking at what could only be a corpse with how badly they were melted. Even with no energy inside of them, I paused and checked their breathing and eyes, nothing, before quickly moving onto the next person. Old habits die hard unfortunately.

“Red,” I said and winced. The young man would probably not make it. But I was the only one with triage authority. I would try to stabilize the young man’s condition, once I was done, but I wasn’t hopeful. There were just too many people, and only one of me. There were no other senior doctors that had turned up, despite Clarissa having people keep an eye on the new arrivals.

I was not about to trust a medical student or an intern to not kill people. They could assist, but I wanted someone who was a resident at least before I let them back life and death decisions.

The Astrologer

The Ritualist could shove a spike up his rear. A barbed spike. The pain radiating from where my right should be was hurting quite a bit and distracting me as I flew to the West. Well, the Ritualist was a dead man. He had polluted his energy to such a degree, there was no return.

If I had my real body, I could have crushed him easily with a pure resonance attack by killing one of those level 4 monsters and using their crystals to transfer an attack directly inside of him. But with this stupid, weak, body and even weaker skills I could leverage a fraction of my true prowess. And now, with the loss of my hand, the situation was even worse.

It could not be healed. This shell was the only one I had managed to get out of my prison. Crafted from the flesh of the original and imbued with life energy. Tied together with energy from the original, to give me memories, understanding, and purpose. Astral Projection was the shell I wore to not be a horrifying creation to cause others to panic and to provide a small amount of protection.

I had run out of curses as I flew over the landscape to the West, my senses strained to the breaking point. Her diviners would have sensed the disturbance. Even now, the ripples from Purgatory were spreading out. A major engagement and a signal were being sent. There was a reason that crafting bombs and outside system summoning were banned under the Treaty of West and East.

Now that treaty was frayed and only a thin paper shield and not even worth the paper it had been written on. I landed at the border and noted the Envoy arriving, running across the landscape, his white and black outfit a clear indication of who he served. He was sure to take up as much of my time to inconvenience me.

“Projection of the Astrologer ruler of the East,” the Envoy greeted me.

“Envoy of her most esteemed Divine Empress ruler of the West,” I returned the formal greeting in the man’s native tongue.

“Such fluctuations. A terrible occurrence. Some insight provide,” the Envoy said in his weird manner of speech after the greetings had been given. I took a moment to process what he said before speaking. A single misstep would see her act, and all would be ruined.

“An unfortunate rebel. They are being put down as I speak. I wouldn’t worry too much,” I replied.

“By your main body? Crafting bombs and summoning? A breach of treaty,” the Envoy spoke. He had a malicious grin on his face. I knew she was using this man to pressure me to reveal a weakness. If he knew I was trapped, we would all die horribly. I refused to be subjected to such a fate but kept my outer shell perfectly calm and placid, the true power of Astral Projection. It was not the power of a skill or stats, but one’s mastery that decided each engagement.

I wasn’t worried about the Ritualist and Michael sharing such information. For she would consider such information a trap, meant to lure her forth. I had already turned back multiple minor incursions. The Envoy would no doubt be considering sending another one if the battle carried on long enough. Her caution was only exceeded by her excessive brutality once she decided to act. If the true state of the East was discovered and my absence, that might be enough to shift her to act.

“A minor breach. That is being addressed as we speak. I am sure rebels are a constant worry for the West as well?” I asked knowing the answer was yes. The slight frown on the Envoy’s face indicated I landed a minor blow.

“Only for right now. None may stand against her for long. Let us sit and speak.” I mentally sighed at this. The Envoy’s true purpose made clear, which I already knew. To take up my time and engage in endless verbal sparring every chance he got. It was his sole purpose to counter me and to annoy my progenitor. Even my projection was trapped until the Ritualist was dead, along with my main body. I wanted to scream and curse but was forced to keep the polite smile on my face.

“Of course, Envoy. What do you wish to discuss?” I asked as he waved his hand and the ground rose up into a stone chair for him to sit on. I waved my hand and altered my Astral Projection to form a grandiose chair that towered over his chair a bit. It was tricky to pull off the appearance of sitting down, but I managed.

“A loss of a hand. A terrible injury. How did it occur?” the Envoy asked. Now the real battle would begin. Time to dodge all the verbal landmines.