ZachSkye
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Knives & Levels - Chapter 59
🕑 Added 2025-02-10 19:47:43 +0000 UTCColt was hardly out of the White House door before a new system message popped into existence, filling his vision.
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Notice: You have been removed from the Faction: New Nashville.
Notice: You are currently in the domain of a faction and will receive a 5% penalty in offensive actions within this territory and receive 5% extra damage from defenders.
———
Colt didn’t feel a real impact from the notice; but he was sure that in a fight against someone on his level, it might be that little difference that could make or break a battle.
Also, not having a faction was… Interesting. What did it mean if he completed a dungeon now? What were the rewards?
Denny was quick on the trigger, which made him think that part of his trap involved this Faction system.
The moment they exited the White House, a veritable small army of men and women security surrounded them. The guard who let them into the walls awkwardly cleared his throat to get their attention as they took to the New Nashville streets.
“So, uh. I heard about what happened,” he offered and looked at the rest of the guards. “Sorry about all that, man. We got strict orders to escort you out right away.”
Colt took in the situation and thought it through strategically.
The number of guards wasn’t the problem. Most of them were mid-thirty, with a couple on the lower end of thirty. Mostly uncommon classes. Though he hadn’t had a chance to test himself against another person, save for Bill, he had been diligent about scanning the guards before and getting a grasp of their skills compared to his. Even a few brief Inspects right now spoke all he needed to know.
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Inspect (Intermediate) has gained a level!
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While their levels had been steadily increasing, not many had an Edict, and if they did, it didn’t represent a serious threat. Their skills weren’t as honed in either, having divided their time between fighting and security work around the city.
But the Edict was the real key.
He was starting to come to the realization that others hadn’t caught on to the power of Edicts… Or it might be that obtaining one and leveling it was harder than he’d thought. It could be an unspoken influence of his class that he was so readily able to dive into that world or the fact he diligently invested in Soul. Either way, stacking them up against him was a recipe for a bloodbath.
Colt absorbed the wider city around him—his silence making the guards shuffle uncomfortably. Two even set their hands on their weapons.
Somewhere, tucked away in this city, was Jimmy. He could force his way through them right now and try to find him.
Yes, Colt could comfortably take all of these guards. Doing so would be a bloodbath—and he’d riddle these struggling streets with bodies of people trying their best to get along. He saw a young girl nearby with a dirty stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide as she watched the standoff.
No, if he wanted to have a bloodbath of a conflict, it would've been in the White House itself, facing whatever trap Denny had planned. Too many people were at risk here, and though these guards were technically Denny’s soldiers, Colt didn’t think they were loyalists in the same way that Wind Mage was; they worked for him because it was the easiest and safest route for them. He couldn’t begrudge them that. They didn’t know better yet.
Besides, Colt didn’t want to go on a slaughter spree—the kind of person that would make him was not a pathway he wanted to explore with the power he’d worked hard for.
There was another way to win this rivalry; he’d do it his way. Colt took a look at the rest of his group and gave a small smile. They eased at that, going from tense and preparing for a battle for their lives to a more relaxed expression, except for Julia, who hadn’t been getting ready at all. The girl looked just about ready to tip over.
Colt figured it was time to address that before they left.
“I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t mean to speak for you. I know Nate and Sarah are by my side—even though we’ve been through a couple of dungeons, it’s scarcely my decision on whether or not you should risk your neck outside of a comfortable city with the way the world is now.”
n response to Colt's apology, Julia stared at him, her mouth forming a smile.
“No.”
“No?”
“Excuse me, can we please get to walking?” The guard tried to interrupt, and Colt raised a hand in a ‘stop signal’ and glared at the guy.
“No.” Julia insisted.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t split me off; this might not be a game, but I think we’ve been through enough together that I can still call you all my party. I’m… I’m sorry I treated you like NPCs—I—I didn’t care if you died since you weren’t real… But Sarah—you—you looked out for me. Even though I treated you like side characters.” Julia sniffled as she spoke.
“We really gotta get going…” The guard gave a fake cough. Colt rolled his eyes at the guy.
“We took you into danger knowing you didn’t have a solid grasp on reality. We’re at fault, too.” Colt said.
“I don’t care. I’m sticking with you guys. I heard the same conversation up there. This isn’t a place I want to stay.” Julia’s eyes firmed, her mouth going straight as she stood up and announced her resolve.
Sarah pulled her in for a side hug, and once more, the insistent guard budded into a conversation he didn’t belong. Colt sighed and told him they were ready to go. Wondering if the guy knew just how hard Colt had considered turning this little street into a fight.
With an almost palpable yell of relief, their escort started to move, making sure to get them the hell out of New Nashville in the quickest and most orderly way… In that, they forced a lot of people aside because Denny didn’t want Colt inside of his walls for a second longer than needed. For his part, Colt marched in silence, taking in all the people suffering under the might of the lopsided society Denny was cultivating.
This was freedom, Denny said. Live here. Suffer here. Unless you give me your body and life so I may have more power, there was a better way, a more just way. Colt, though, knew he’d be back. Jimmy was somewhere stashed away in this city. And until he spoke with his friend, Colt couldn’t be done with New Nashville. And even then, he still wanted more for this city, with its living spirit.
With the guards escorting them out, Colt, Nate, Sarah, and Julia once more found themselves tossed back out without real direction into the ruined streets of Nashville. Sarah gave a quick scowl at the city, and a brief, "Go fuck yourself, Denny," as they walked off into the mist. The stadium lurked behind them, its lit silhouette cutting through the mist, and then gradually fading as they moved deeper into the fog-covered ruins, but Colt knew they'd be back. First order of business was to survive and plan a way to get to Jimmy.
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Grem leaned in his chair, the white plastic groaning as he leaned back, threatening to snap underneath his fat and muscle, and his eyes were glazed as he chewed bubble gum; in his hand was his trusty sword. A wicked little toy picked up over the last week; he’d bled hard for it, too, as all his guys did. “Level 67, and for what? Ha.”
He’d bled hard with his boys, stepped out for a quick walk through the city, and came back. To what? His boys were gone. All of them.
No, not from the dungeons, though they lost a good number of them to those hellholes, too. Being alone was a dangerous enough pastime. Nah. The dungeons hadn’t done this. Not directly at least.
He stared out the door of his room; the broken frame of the building went to the apartments that he and his had called theirs—a nice old Nashville place, one of their boy’s apartments before the System.
Outside the door was the mess.
Heads were chopped and pulped, all their furniture except these shitty plastic chairs was wrecked, guts thrown all over the walls, and big holes torn through almost every part of the building. Blood painted everywhere. You might as well have made this place into one of those horror houses they did on Halloween. Hell, it was a miracle that the place even still stood up after all of that endless abuse. A person couldn’t have done this—not even a person like that bastard Denny; he was still human.
This had to have been a monster.
“Well, shit,” Grem chewed, rocking slightly in his chair. He put his head in his hands and gave a forced laugh.
All that work.
All that blood.
Hilarious.
For this? This was their reward? To think all that work jackass monster to go and kill them before they could even get payback?
God, it was so funny.
“Did’ja hear a good joke?” A voice called; a man walked into the former living room, his black boots slinking as it collected dried blood; he wore a black cowboy hat and had a wide smile on his face—tipping it as he saw Grem.
Grem screamed—standing up and flinging the plastic chair behind him with a clank. Denny, of all—he came and mocked the dead remains of Grem’s gang? How dare he?!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, partner.” Denny held a hand up, and Grem didn’t even care. Why should he? The guy was a weakling now after all that power-grinding Grem and his gang did; their sacrifices wouldn’t be for anything. Not if he got his vengeance on the piece of work who started it all, to begin with. Grem sped forward, a ball of hate and malice that wanted nothing more than to rip the still-beating heart out of the man in front of him.
A golden chain appeared in the door frame; Grem ran through it, sure it would break.
It didn’t, Grem’s arm did with a sickening crack as he tumbled and crashed into the room.
Denny leaned down, more golden chains snaking and wrapping around him. There was a wild smile on the guy’s face as he leaned in, “Should’ve left my city, you vermin. All you little rats holding up in your hidey holes, plotting, stealing… These dungeons are mine. These people are mine. They’re gonna work for me, gonna make points for me—that’s law and order. Old world and new world, scum like you never get it. There are two types of people. Those like me, the elite. And those like you. Weak, pathetic creatures. Might as well not even be human. You’re supposed to bow to me; I would’ve been kind if you had. Given you a spot in my walls.”
“Bullshit!” Grem struggled in the golden chains; they should be easy to break. With a five-level difference between them, he and Denny were far enough apart. Grem's muscles flexed as he pushed out with all his hard-won Strength points.
The chains didn’t give.
Denny shook his head; “Naw, not that easy. My skills are from my other investments, and I think you know how I got the levels; having a lot of dungeon-clearing teams brings in points to spare. Having a training partner can do wonders. Not that it matters much. You’re a pitiful little rare class. If my math is right, I’ve got about forty or so raw points on you.”
Grem struggled and cussed.
“Now, you probably thought that some monster wandered in and wrecked you and your boys; I coulda let you think that. But where’s the fun? I always fancied myself a bit of an exterminator—y’know, when you get those rats in your home? Most people would be upset. Annoyed. Me? I’d get excited excited. They test your head, and you gotta think like a rat to take care of them, and ain’t nothing sweeter than punishing those little freeloaders and beating them at their own games.”
“Shut up!” Grem screamed—Denny yanked his face so he’d look him in the eyes, then slapped him, sending Grem reeling and spinning on the floor. A boot stopped him, with a heavy thud on his chest that snapped a rib. With a grunt, Denny shoved Grem and made him face the entrance to their little apartment.
Sitting in the doorway was a beast—Twice the height of a man, its muscles bulged. Its ears quirked; it was like someone had shoved a head on top of a bull, and then dosed that bull with more performance-enhancing drugs than should exist in this mortal world. Its muscles bulged; its nostrils snorted as its black hair rose up.
Branded on its chest was a golden crown, which began to brighten and shine in a deep yellow hue.
“It was a monster that eliminated your boys. My monster. See—when you little rats scamper and scurry, and get a little too fat, they get confident. But a fact of life is this: no fat rat aint going to be enough to stand up to the man of the house. No. The man’s just going to use a different kind of weapon to stomp you into the ground.”
Denny hauled Grem up, the golden chains digging deeper into his skin. The pain ran through him as they pressed in, coiling like an anaconda. Grem let out a scream as they dug into his skin, as the breath became harder to come in and out.
His captor laughed, then shoved him forward, right into the waiting arms of the beast.
One of those hands grasped his skull, the flesh scarred and dry. The other pressed against his chest, yanking the chains as a means of support; he lifted into the air, feet dangling as the monster sniffed his face. And then it began to yank. Slowly, at first. The hand around his head tightened, long black fingernails digging in and finding resting spots in his skull. A good grip from which they wouldn’t budge. One of which was an eye socket, popping the vital organ with a burst of blinding pain.
It yanked, ripped, and tore some more until Grem no longer existed.
