LeetlePublishingCompany
patreon
Nero Walker, Book 4 Ch.33 (264)
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 23:30:02 +0000 UTCNearly brushing the ceiling of the tunnel with her essence-enhanced leap, Cathleen came down in the middle of the kobald casters like the manifestation of the term ‘death from above’. A single swipe removed the heads of three shamans while she physically flattened another one under her feet. Already adjusting her grip for another attack, she smirked at the sound of the others starting their attack.
Natalie and Mike were leading their teams into the front of the kobald’s formation, providing her and the scouts the opportunity to take out the rest of the kobald’s ranged support. Like shadows of death, they swept through the casters and shamans like a scythe reaping lives instead of wheat. And while the large group of kobalds could have trapped them, the distraction Natalie and Mike’s forces provided turned out to be more than enough to allow them to get away cleanly.
Back among the walls of the tunnel, she watched carefully as the remainder of the kobalds were put down systematically. This had been the third hastily arranged response force the kobalds had assembled, and it hadn’t faired any better than the ones before. There had been no time for the kobalds to do much more than combine multiple scouting parties into larger groups and send them off to their deaths.
Turning to the scout next to her, she said, “When they’re done here, tell them to regroup at the previous junction. I need to check in with the other assault forces.”
Without waiting for a reply, she vanished down the tunnel at a run. She needed to get back into range of the relays.
Even though she and the other commanders had expected it, it was still uncomfortable to be cut off from the Battle Hub. The relays the engineers had gotten working didn’t cover the entire upper city. These sections still inhabited by kobalds were still unusable, and they didn’t have the time or engineers to do anything about it at the moment. So, she’d just have to make do.
The moment she felt her link reengage with the Battle Hub, she reopened the command channels and requested an update.
One after another, the assault force commanders checked in. She received their battle summaries and current status, each one reporting nothing but success. The plan was working… so far.
“That’s good to hear. We’re going to need you to keep the kobalds engaged as long as you can. Don’t overextend. Just stick to harassing them and keep their attention on you. Our force has made it beyond the cordon, and we’ll hopefully make it to the throne room within the hour,” she said tersely.
After receiving the confirmation that her orders had been acknowledged, she switched over to the command channel for Knight Angelton and the rest of their assault force.
“The main tunnel system has been cleared. Minimal response from the kobalds so far. They didn’t seem to plan on anyone getting past their encampments. How are the rearguard and the rest of the troops holding up?” she asked.
Knight Angelton’s presence over the command channel was just as imposing as ever, showing no signs that anything was wrong. “Well enough for now. The kobalds most likely have been ordered to stop anyone from getting into their encampment and seem happy enough to keep us in our tunnel. I don’t believe it’s occurred to them that we’re currently on the wrong side of what they were ordered to defend. As long as we don’t try and force our way back through, I think we’ll be fine.”
Nodding to herself, Cathleen looked around the barely lit tunnel. It was wide enough to allow multiple carts of supplies along with a stream of people and was one of the three main thoroughfares through the upper city. In most respects, it has held up well through the years. However, the failed essence lighting and detritus filling the floor made it look less than accommodating for travel.
“We’ve confirmed that you’ll be able to take the planned route. I’m not sure how many more kobald scouting teams are around, but I think we’ve cleared out most of them. How long until you’re on the move?” she asked.
“Not long. The… healers… have gotten everyone up they can and are currently recovering their center. I estimate we’ll be ready to head out within 20 minutes, possibly less,” he replied.
Cathleen could tell that he was holding something back but didn’t have any interest in pushing him for more information. She knew he was capable of handling whatever it was, and if he wasn’t he’d let her know.
“Understood, we’ll continue sweeping the surrounding tunnels. We’ll reconnect with you at the second checkpoint so we can set up an isolated command channel. Until then, continue to monitor the other assault forces. I’ll be out of range of the Battle Hub for the foreseeable future, and you’ll have to take my place as the Battle Leader until you are as well,” she ordered.
“How far did you get before the relays failed?” he asked.
“Not nearly as far as we’d hoped. We’re still around 20 floors away from what used to be the noble district, and this is the outer range line,” she replied unhappily.
Grunting in acknowledgment, Knight Angelton replied, “That’s… not ideal. But we’ll make it work. See you in an hour.”
“One hour,” she confirmed before adding, “Good luck.”
“You as well,” he replied before returning to what he’d been doing.
—--
The moment Nero’s brain understood what was happening, he began cursing up a storm. He honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the situation he’d found himself in. It was all just so ridiculous.
There were simply too many things about this new world that bugged him. For one, the fact that the people here had a cultural investment in their individuality to the point that it influenced their laws, while at the same time seeing no issue pledging their lives to people made absolutely no sense to him. Then, on top of that, there was the fact that the entire governmental machine was built on the concept of a meritocracy which had somehow been warped through an unholy union with what appeared to be a class system. It made no sense at all, and should not work nearly as well as it seemed to.
But all that aside, the core issue he had with the way this world worked was the fact that it was so… cliched? No, that wasn’t the right word… ‘obvious’ maybe?
He could live with the fact that the people here were impossible. He could even somewhat wrap his head around how their society came to be what with the fact that everyone could ‘feel’ their neighbor’s emotions through their weird pseudo-telepethy. When it came down to it, it was nothing more than an amped-up version of what he was already used to. Forced to understand how their actions affected others in turn affected them. He got that.
The people at the top living absurdly long lives and wanting their middle managers to be competent to handle things in a way that caused them the least amount of problems? That also somewhat made sense to him. He still didn’t get how the system wasn’t widely being abused, but he could at least understand, theoretically, how it might be possible. When you could have hundreds of kids, why wouldn’t you continue until you had an heir that wouldn’t be a disappointment? It made enough sense not to melt his brain.
But, the fact that the spiritual mumbo-jumbo bumper sticker bullshit he’d seen on cat posters continually smacked him upside the head with its stupidity was simply too much for him.
People were NOT supposed to be able to confront their problems directly. Humanity had no business being able to actually ‘face their fears’ or ‘emotionally grow stronger through adversity’. Those were supposed to be platitudes that kept people from offing themselves and screwing up the economy through a labor shortage.
He was supposed to suppress his negativity with a healthy dose of denial and medication. Therapy was supposed to be a lifelong struggle, not something that could actually lead to anything remotely positive. People with money or a gold-star health plan were supposed to waste hours of their lives responding to pointless questions like ‘how did that make you feel?’ and ‘is that true, or do you just feel like it is?’. For the vast majority of everyone else, self-help was a type of tax on depression, not a valid way of living your life!
Looking up at the roiling storm clouds over his head in his soul space, he felt like screaming at the heavens, demanding that they try and at least find a way to be somewhat original. Because that was what was really bothering him. It wasn’t the fact that people had died during a battle that he’d recommended, or that he’d failed in his promise to himself to bring them all back. It was the fact that his soul space continued to be so damned ‘obvious’ with its representations of his issues.
‘This is not displaced anger, or any other psychological bullshit,’ he assured himself.
‘Storm clouds throughout my soul because I’m conflicted… seriously? And I suppose the normally sturdy trees are getting ripped apart because I’m at war with myself or something. Although the flash flood representing my inner turmoil as to whether I’m doing the right thing is a nice touch. The whole ‘hiding my path forward under my insecurities’ is at least somewhat inspired,’ he remarked to himself while scowling at the river of mud water rushing past him.
Idly lifting one of his feet out of the mud, he wasted about half a second wondering why he wasn’t having issues just standing there.
Shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t matter, he told himself, ‘Of course it doesn’t make sense, this is all in my head or my soul or something. No point in overanalyzing things, that way lies madness.’
Before he got sidetracked by anything else, he opened up his identity to check on his status.
Name Nero Walker
Level 16
Race Human
Growth 61%
Tier 1
Condition 73%
Age 14
Center 100%
Body 4
Mind 5
Soul 2
Confluence 11
Stars 0
Pillars 3/ 1
‘73%? Eh, sounds about right,’ he thought to himself while rolling his shoulders and attempting to crack his neck.
Nero did feel a little under the weather. He was also pretty sure that his growth had gone up a bit, regardless of the fact that he had a lot of experiences waiting to be incorporated by re-examining them.
According to the books he’d read, there were three main ways to gain experience. One, immediately upon having them they could be added to a person’s center without issue. Those were usually new sights/sounds/etc., stuff that didn’t require a whole lot of understanding. Then, there was the careful re-examination of memories through meditation which everybody who was actively trying to level did daily.
How he’d morphed that into his weird soul-space memory bubbles still made no sense to him.
But finally, the one that rarely happened was the epiphany-like realizations that people could make during times of stress. Those were the ones that accounted for most of his growth, and the ones that most people rarely accomplished.
Nero could admit that he’d had more than his fair share of mind-shattering realizations over the past few months, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
The whole dichotomy of both needing to ‘know who you are’ while also ‘growing as a person’ seemed ridiculous to him. How could both be relevant? They were opposing ideologies!
Grumbling under his breath, he set that aside for the moment and focused on the swirling clouds of memories hovering in front of him.
‘Let’s just get this crap over with and see if there is something I’m supposed to ‘confront’ that will end this nonsense,’ he said to himself.
Looking around, he could see that most of the memory clouds were sights of people being injured and left behind that he’d either ignored or simply not noticed. Nero was less than happy having to look at them. His perception field had seen everything, and it had only been his stubborn refusal to focus on the bad parts of the war that had allowed him to miss them.
It wasn’t all bad though, it was nice to see himself saving people. He looked kind of badass destroying his body as he channeled more and more soul stuff to resuscitate people. His new perspective also allowed him to understand how he’d managed to injure himself so badly.
‘I hadn’t realized I’d been glowing,’ he remarked to himself.
Seeing the amount of essence he’d been channeling, it made sense that his body was having trouble handling it. While his center had no trouble processing the soul stuff, having it course through his body on the way was enough to destabilize it. Interestingly, the result of having so much non-imbued essence inside him looked very similar to what happened when his center reserves fell below the threshold to keep himself together.
‘There are probably some ‘sciency’ or metaphysical conclusions I should draw from that,’ he told himself before moving on.
Eventually, the smaller memory clouds were all processed and incorporated into his center and all he was left with were the big ones. They were twice the size of the standard memory clouds he’d gotten used to and were hovering around an even larger one in the middle that pulsed in tune with the storm clouds above him.
Realizing that the one in the middle was probably the ‘main plot of the episode’ type issue he’d eventually have to confront, he did the smart thing and instead focused on the other ones.
Unsurprisingly, these were filled with some of the gorier sights he’d witnessed but mentally set aside to emotionally process later. Apparently, later meant now.
The one with the open but dead eyes of the first woman he’d resuscitated was particularly uncomfortable to accept. While seeing kobald clones butchered and blown up hadn’t bothered him all that much, there was something about seeing a human being mangled that made him feel stuff. Uncomfortable stuff.
Anger. Helplessness. Regret. All the types of emotions that he usually set aside for the sake of his sanity bombarded him with each viewing. He had to accept what had happened, and that there had been nothing he could do about it. While he’d chosen to fight, so had they. And even if they hadn’t, he’d eventually have to learn to accept the responsibility for having led them here. Life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, he’d always known that. There was no reason to carry guilt around with him. All he could do was his best, and try not to make the same mistakes in the future.
Standing on the muddy path under the rain, Nero stood panting in front of the final memory, the face of Knight Angelton staring back at him. Taking a moment to raise his chin so he could stare up at the lightning-filled storm clouds, Nero let the rain wash over him, washing away his sadness and regret. He refused to feel ‘reborn’ or anything at all similar to that bullshit cliche.
‘This is just a thing I have to do in this world,’ he told himself.
Firming his resolve, he reopened his eyes and lowered his head to glare at the memory waiting for him.
Diving in, he re-experienced his conversation with Knight Angelton when the man alerted him to the people they’d lost. Nero saw the image of himself emotionally shutting down. He could remember the feeling of failure and loss, and the conscious choice to push those emotions aside to try and move forward.
“It’s what soldiers do,” he heard himself say, his voice sounding utterly empty.
Staring at the sight of himself, Nero paused for a moment. Despite knowing that he wasn’t actually a 14-year-old boy, or however old his actual body was with all the weird timekeeping they do here, Nero thought that he looked every bit the young man that he currently was. Perhaps it was hormones or his new body, but Nero didn’t think so.
Some smart person somewhere had once likened any new experience to a child seeing something for the first time. The term ‘child-like’ wonder being applied to his situation seemed both apt and appalling at the same time.
True, he’d been in his thirties before he’d died back on earth, but he also hadn’t experienced all that much. Aside from his time drinking at the bars with his friends and the time he spent in school and work, he hadn’t exactly lived a full life. Most of it had been on his phone. He’d never gone to war, lived with ‘nobility’, or gone on a real adventure. That’s probably why he was so excited and stupid about his goals here.
He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to sacrifice and experience hardship for some noble goal that if he saw anyone else trying he’d mock them for it. It was a stupid, childish dream that was both serious and whimsical at the same time. Everything he’d experienced in this world had been new, and regardless of his age, he was still a child and therefore acting like one.
Thinking about Nick and his glee at seeing some of what Nero could do blowing his mind, and even Archmage Jennings’ surprised face at seeing him manipulate essence the way he did, Nero wondered if anyone here ever truly grew up. Perhaps that was another dumb-ass example of a cat-poster being made into reality in this world. Those few people who retained their child-like desire to grow and experience things never reached adulthood, and those who’d felt like they’d learned and experienced all they needed to… they were the ones who began to age and stop growing.
Mentally returning to the memory he’d paused, Nero watched Knight Angelton’s eyes as he replied, “Yes, my lord. That’s what soldiers do.”
The man looked tired, but there was a hint of pride in what he said. It was as if he was thinking about the next battle and the next one after that, promising himself that he’d be there. He didn’t look resigned to the fact that losing people was just a part of war, and he didn’t look defeated. In truth, he looked like he was resolved to do better, to mitigate the losses as best he could while continuing forward and completing his mission. He looked like a warrior should.
“Not just soldiers old man… Adventurers do it too,” Nero muttered as he stared into the memory of Harry’s gray eyes.
As the memory dissipated into a cloud of vapor, Nero looked up at the clearing sky. One by one, shafts of light broke through, filling the forest around him with refracted light throughout the mist. The leaves on the trees began to grow new leaves as more and more branches filled the canopy. Clear, fresh water replaced the muddy river washing the path in front of him clean. In less than a minute, the disturbing sight of his soul at war with itself was replaced with a healthy forest and a clear path forward.
Staring up at the gloriously refracting hues of colors, Nero’s jaw remained open in shock as he felt his feet lifting off the ground while essence swirled around him. He could feel himself leveling. It was both exhilarating and refreshing. Every cell of his being rejoiced with the infusion of energy. Nero felt like he’d been given a full body colonic filled with holy water and Mountain Dew. Not that he’d ever had a colonic filled with holy water or otherwise… but that’s what it felt like.
When his feet touched back down on the path, Nero’s identity practically opened itself.
Name Nero Walker
Level 17
Race Human
Growth 2%
Tier 1
Condition 100%
Age 14
Center 100%
Body 4
Mind 5
Soul 2
Confluence 11
Stars 1
Pillars 3/ 1
Body 4
Base/Operative/Level Stress
Presence 22/39.6/23.2
Durability 26/46.8/31.9
Recovery 47/84.6/26.3
Speed 25/45/36.4
Adaptability 47/84.6/33.5
Power 24/43.2/19.1
Mind 5
Base/Operative/Level Stress
Weight 32/64/21.7
Control 39/78/29.3
Field 36/72/44.1
Precision 55/110/40.2
Endurance 65/130/41.9
Focus 61/122/50
Soul 2
Base/Operative/Level Stress
Size 29/40.6/7.2
Density 101/141.4/13.4
Intensity 76/106.4/19
Pressure 27/37.8/16.2
Harmony 24/33.6/50
Adaptability 270/378/15.9
Nero gasped, trying to regain his breath. He bent over at the waist and gripped his knees as he clenched his eyes shut trying to steady himself.
“That was freaking intense,” he muttered under his breath.
Quickly getting his racing thoughts back under control, Nero began reading his identity and stat panels. Most of what he was seeing made sense. As usual, his body’s condition was back at 100%, his center having rebuilt what had been broken with the level. The other stuff, as usual a mixed bag of obvious and confusing in equal measure.
He still didn’t understand why he was able to raise his level stresses so high, as every book he’d read on the subject made it sound like anything over 10 was practically impossible. He could only assume it had something to do with his pillar. If he recalled correctly, the last time his level stresses got super high he’d lost control of his stars trying to imbue them when he’d leveled.
Frowning at the thought of putting another star into his mind stat and furthering the imbalance even more, Nero debated what to do about the two stats that were at 50. Both his mind-focus and soul-adaptability seemed to be maxed out… maybe? It seemed odd that they both hit 50 on the dot. He knew for a fact he’d gotten one or two of his level stresses higher than that before, so it probably meant something for them to cap there.
He really wanted to keep a 50% buffer between his stats and his confluence, as all the books he’d read on the subject had warnings about confluence affecting a person’s ability to level if it got too low comparatively.
‘Fuck it,’ he thought to himself. He couldn’t allow his soul to fall even further behind, and something about the 50 next to his soul-harmony stat just looked too dangerous for him to ignore.
Nero pushed his star into his soul stat. He’d just have to try and get another level or two as soon as possible so he could put one in his confluence before he addressed his mind… and body… and well everything. Unfortunately, whatever plans he was cooking up were put on hold by the feeling of his entire center squeezing like a melon under a hydraulic press.
The sensation of everything that he ‘was’ being stretched like taffy was almost enough to mentally break him. He felt connected to everything, and yet so pathetically small. And it hurt. It hurt so much. When reality snapped back into place, he could still feel the echo of the stress his soul had been under. It felt like he’d overfilled a balloon and barely avoided ‘wetting’ himself.
‘Damn, I really need to figure out how to stop stressing the hell out of my levels. I’m gonna blow myself up if I keep doing whatever it is that I’m doing,’ he thought to himself.
Taking one last regretful look at that mind-focus stat with a 50 next to it, Nero closed the panels. Shifting his attention back to his reinvigorated soul forest, he took a moment to appreciate how utterly beautiful it all looked. He found himself glancing up at the sky now that the storm clouds and the rain were gone with a wide and serene smile on his face. There, starting behind the mountain range in the distance and traveling all the way across the horizon was a giant double rainbow.
Immediately losing his smile, Nero glared at the things as if they’d personally offended him by even existing.
‘Of course. Everything is all peachy-keen now, right? Sunshine and rainbows… literally. Eat a dick universe,’ he thought to himself before fleeing the disgustingly heartwarming sight and returning to what passed for reality around here.
Comments
Leetle Sheet
I just noticed this comment, and I think it's awesome. This will come into play at some time in the future, but it's a REALLY good question. How does the body itself affect age and how do hormones and things interact with the mind? Interesting things to consider when Nero is in a world where the shtick of 'mind of matter' is reality.
ThoMiCroN
Does Nero’s new body still grow at all? Does he still have any growth hormones left or is he locked in the condition it was in upon death, or even in the self-representation Nero has of himself?
Alexis Cassaigne
Thanks for the chapter!
