1st Person View | Solution's (5%) PoV
The stairwell smells of dust and metal. Our footsteps echo off the walls. Scout's rambling, a nervous rhythm of words meant to fill the silence while I'm busy trying to focus on the boss' location.
I slide one earbud in. The radar range on these is about 1,600 feet, but I'm only looking for one thing, and it should be close.
A pulse hums in my ears. In my vision, the world warps into grids of wireframe green. I can see outlines of everything throughout the school, kind of like an x-ray; the outlines of scattered students pulse blue. One massive, jagged blip glows red.
The gymnasium.
I slow to match Scout's pace. "The boss is in the gym. South wing."
Her eyes light up. "My first dungeon raid, huh? Shit, I'm kinda nervous."
A scream rips through the halls. My jaw tightens.
"You'll get it over it," I say, and begin to sprint.
We cut through corridors littered with abandoned backpacks. The floor trembles once, then again, heavier. Dust drifts from the ceiling tiles.
Scout struggles to keep up. "How are you—"
"Training," I lie.
The next quake throws her off balance. I catch her wrist before she falls, then gesture down the hall. The double doors of the gym tremble on their hinges.
When I stop, the red blip burns brighter. I can hear something grating, like something wet dragging across hardwood, and the stutter of furniture being moved.
"Stay back," I say.
"Not a chance." She raises her crossbow, her eyes flaring violet with Hunter's Mark.
There's that reckless energy again. I'm tempted to argue, but we don't have the time.
I shoulder the doors open, and the smell of blood makes me recoil.
Bleachers are overturned, and banners boasting of sports achievements have been shredded. Bodies of students lay half-embedded in the walls, like someone wanted to store them there. Their faces are slack, some eyes open, some not. Some don't have eyes at all.
I stop. I think it's the immersion that's keeping me steady. I assume it filters the shock, numbs the stench, pushes the panic down to a point where I can ignore it...without it, I think I'd be sick.
I glance at Scout.
Her skin's gone white. Her breathing's shallow, her hands shaking as she lowers her weapon. At this distance, I can hear her heart beating wildly. "I-I'm fine," she whispers.
Then she bends over and vomits onto the polished floor.
"Hey," I step in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Don't look at them. Look at me."
She nods weakly, wiping her mouth, trembling.
In the center of the destruction is a creature hunched over the wreckage of a podium, scribbling on the floor with a broken ruler.
It still wears a torn blazer. Its face, stretched and warped, carries the ghost of round glasses. What was once its mouth is now a cracked line that splits into four. Its limbs resembles rulers, and its fingers were metal claws that remind me of staple removers.
Despite the amalgamation I'm staring at, there's enough clues for me to piece together what happened here.
"Professor Halden…" I mutter.
Scout swallows hard. "That's…my stats teacher?"
"Was."
The creature looks up. Its voice is layered, and I pick up five tones speaking at once.
"CLASS… IN… SESSION."
Its head twists ninety degrees. Desks rise from the floor, levitating in formation. Why are there desks in the gym?
"QUIET IN MY CLASSROOM!" the creature roars, causing Scout to cover her ears.
The desks launch.
My body moves on pure instinct. The world slows as I crank my Immersion back to 10%, hoping to end this fight quickly while keeping Scout safe. The first desk explodes against my shoulder as I twist, my boots sliding across polished wood. The jacket flares behind me like a green banner.
Well hey, that didn't even hurt. I think I looked kinda cool tanking that hit, too.
Scout dives for cover behind a wrecked bleacher, loosing a bolt that glows violet. It punches through a flying desk and buries into the monster's chest. The creature screeches, and a circle-shaped rune under it flickers into existence.
"Mark landed!" she shouts. "It's tagged—it's weak spot should be exposed!"
"Good work!"
I rush forward. My revolver clears the leather strap, barrel gleaming that beautiful red-green hue. I quickly aim at the glowing rune and pull the trigger twice.
Bullets crack through its chest, causing black fluid to leak from the entry points.
It lunges, its deformed ruler-like limbs thrashing wildly. I manage to catch its reckless attack with my free hand—it's desperately trying to pull away, but my grip holds. I pivot, using the momentum to shoulder-slam it across the court.
The gymnasium wall gives way as the concrete erupts, sunlight spearing through the new hole. The professor-thing flies out into the courtyard, landing in a crater of asphalt and dust.
I follow suit, my boots crunching on debris.
"QUIZ," it gurgles, dragging itself upright.
It slams its palms together. A dome of runes bursts from the ground, and a gravitational pull starts to lock my legs.
Gravitic field. Cool, but also kinda annoying.
I holster the gun, crack my knuckles, and breathe.
It may not be the best idea, but let's crank things up to fifteen percent immersion.
The world becomes elastic, in a sense.
I can feel the power before I even move. A surge of energy floods muscle and bone until my body feels as light as a feather. I step, and the world snaps into a frame that I can only describe as blurred focus.
The floor beneath me cracks from the force.
The air screams past my ears, wind tearing through my hair.
My jacket flares like a banner in the shockwave of my own velocity.
For a moment, the whole world hangs still—
then I'm behind it.
I drive my elbow into the creature's back like a hammer. The shockwave ripples the courtyard, scattering shattered bricks and leaves. Through the impact, I can feel what I assume is bone and wood shatter in unison. The monster is launched across the courtyard, slamming through a metal gate.
I take a deep breath to compose myself and let out a slow exhale, feeling my throat burn. I'm pretty sure I just flash stepped off pure instinct, and I could honestly cry from how cool that probably looked.
Sadly, the monster is still moving, so I'll have to revel in my moment a little later.
Scout bursts from the hole in the wall, slides behind a fallen tree, and fires another bolt. The arrow flares violet.
The creature howls: "ATTENDANCE—MANDATORY!" The ground begins to shake.
I did feel a certain way about beating up my former professor, but now I don't feel so bad.
A hundred chalk constructs rise from the shattered earth, featureless mannequins that all turn their attention to me and Scout.
"Scout!"
"On it!"
Her crossbow becomes a storm, purple streaks cutting down rows of dummies. I leap into the swarm, twisting through them. I employ every martial art technique that comes to memory—palm strikes, knees, elbows, even headbutts. Every blow disintegrates one more phantom, turning them into chalky dust.
But they keep coming. Endless copies.
I grit my teeth. Enough.
My gut tightens. I raise the gun, then hesitate.
Halden. He'd been one of the few decent professors. He stayed late to tutor, and was always open to questions. Sure, he was a little out of touch when it came to humor, which led to some pretty bad jokes, but I didn't mind.
He always beamed with pride when talking to the class about his wife and newborn son. He even had a little picture of them on his desk. I wasn't particularly close with him, but everyone knew how passionate he was.
If this… thing… was still him under this corrupted shell—could I fix it? Maybe the interface had corrupted him mid-transfer. Maybe there was a way to pull him back.
I could try—
A scream cuts through my thoughts. Scout's.
She's surrounded, notching and firing bolts as fast as she can, but the mannequins are closing in. One catches her leg; she stumbles.
Decision made.
I lift the revolver. "I'm so sorry, Professor."
My revolver's been eclectic today, throwing sparks one shot and duds on the other, because that's how I had it set; but I don't want guesswork here.
I close my left eye. A soft chime hums through my earbud. In Sablethorn that motion would call up a low-tier mercy ability—which are rare and oddly humane for a game that encourages killing and leveling up. I thumb the selector and feel the gun settle into a different weight as faint green runes crawl along the barrel.
Quietus Round. The round doesn't tear or penetrate, but it will unmake the bind that holds the concept together. I breathe out, aim for the place where whatever's left of Halden's mind must be tangled in corrupted code, and squeeze.
The bullet traces a spiral of emerald light through the air, passing over the mannequins, shredding them apart as it goes. It hits the creature dead center, then detonates.
Blinding light erupts.
The explosion rips through the courtyard, shaking the entire south wing of the school. The echo rolls across the campus like thunder.
When the smoke clears, the monster is gone—reduced to a smear of glitching code and ash. All of the mannequins are gone as well.
I spin the revolver around in my hand. Despite the somber moment, I can't help but feel like this is the perfect time for a quip.
"End of lecture."
I cringe as the words leave my mouth.
Scout lowers her weapon, panting. "Please tell me that was the final exam."
I guess she's in a joking mood, too. I glance at what's left of the professor.
"No," I murmur, turning in the direction of the sunset to smolder. "That was just orientation."
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◆ System Notice: [Hunter's Mark]
A tracking spell available to the Ranger class. It marks a single target, forcibly creating a weak point and amplifies the user's ranged damage against it by 1d8.
Duration: 5 minutes minimum, but duration scales with [Focus].
Each cast consumes one spell slot.
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