Death Smith - Book 1 - Chapter 21

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Taking inventory

Several hours ago.

February, 14 AR.

Inside Rift 7.

Lance’s world was dark, pitch-black, and devoid of any light, save one. The only light in this world, the only thing he could see, was the soft glow emanating from within his chest. At first, it was internal, embedded within his core. A layer of flesh, cloth, and broken armour hid the light at first. Over time, it left him, passing through those barriers until it hovered in front of him. It blinded him in a way that went beyond cognition.

He tried to reach for it, to keep it contained, but realised that he was but a shade in this realm. He was a puppet without its strings, floating into nothingness. Time flowed in a way that mere mortals could not describe or fathom. Eternities passed within a singular thought or flowed backwards from fragments of emotion. He felt undone at that moment.

The light started pulsating, radiating this dark world in a light that went beyond brightness. Sound accompanied the light. It was a strange sound that was hard to describe. The sound was like metal twisting and groaning, like lightning being wrenched apart. It sounded like nothing Lance had ever heard before, so alien and absurd. Still, Lance could understand it perfectly, as clear as the words he used within his own mind.

[Calculating experience is done.]

[Congratulations, you have reached level 10.]

[Calculating class.]

Lance felt the light overwhelm his mind, nearly burning him as it looked within him. He could feel his personality, his nature, his memories being observed, tested, and weighed in the span of a nanosecond, or perhaps far beyond centuries. Within his mind, he found several memories constantly repeat themselves. Memories of him having to be adaptive in surviving a Rift, using the tools at his disposal back in the hospital, be it flame or acid.

[Calculating class is done.]

[Tool smith is a 56,44% match.]

[Your adaptive nature is recognised.]

[Starting class adaption.]

The light pulsated even brighter, getting ready to imbed itself within Lance again. Within Lance’s core, he felt a sense of relief. The light suddenly felt far more natural, as if it had been further tailored to him as a person. The chosen class felt right… it felt perfect…

‘I refuse’, Lance thought, remembering the blood-stained knife. He forced that memory outwards. It crashed into the light, pushing it backwards. The more he thought about it, the more that memory burned Lance from within.

[Error... Class adaption refused.]

[Anomaly. You are breaking protocol.]

[Adapting. Restarting process.]

Once again, the light overwhelmed his mind, searching within. It felt less stable this time, as if the light rushed the process this time. Lance’s personality, his nature and memories were once again being measured, this time more brutally. It suppressed certain elements of him this time, forcing a different outcome. Memories overwhelmed him. Memories of the people he lost. A torn Rachel, lost survivors, a dying best friend. It tore at the memories of his mind, of dark thoughts he had about the survivor's guilt he had, about how he had wanted to reverse their fates, to undo their deaths.

[Calculating class is done.]

[Necromancer is a 32,29% match.]

[The desire to preserve your companions is recognised.]

[Starting clas-]

‘Not like that,’ He thought, sending the entirety of his will against the light, chipping at its core. Lance felt that will burn him up from within, threatening to undo him if he was not careful. A single memory fuelled his will; a young Thomas with a bloody nose standing between a younger Lance and several bullies. ‘I won’t desecrate his memory like that. Never like that!’ Lance thought, his will roaring until it nearly scorched him from within.

[Error... Class adaption refused.]

[Warning. Stability degraded by 47,5%.]

[Adapting. Restarting process.]

The light that enveloped his mind was fragile this time, uncertain of what it was looking for. Memories passed through its light without latching on. It radiated without direction, without a set path that it was used to follow.

‘I am going to heal Thomas,’ Lance thought, forcing his will to latch onto the light, dragging it closer to the fire that was burning Lance up inside. He forced memories inside of the light, memories of Thomas and Lance surviving the Rift together.

[Adapting. Registered desire for healer class is incompatible with your goal.]

[Warning. Stability degraded by 59,3%.]

He did not let go of the light, forcing more memories inside of it until more fractures appeared within the light. His will latched on a single memory finally; the memory of Thomas taking care of his younger brother, Oliver. ‘He will not die,’ Lance thought, forcing his will upon the light, fracturing it further.

[Warning. Stability degraded by 73,12%.]

[Warning. Stability degraded by 89,9%.]

More and more memories flowed through it, burning the light from within. The cracks in the light turned into fissures, allowing the heat from Lance’s will to pour out. The light was uncertain and desperate. It grasped at anything it had experience with, suggesting class after class. It failed, with the light only fracturing further.

Lance instinctively knew that he was hurting himself, that he was losing something in doing this. One could produce no such defiance without not burning up something vital part of himself. A part of him knew, at some level, that this could cause his own demise.

He continued sending more and more memories into the light. Memories of a young Thomas comforting a young Lance that was watching a casket go in the ground. ‘This will not be his fate. He is going back together with me. He will leave this place at my side!’ Lance roared at the light, forcing everything he had and would ever be at it.

[Warning. Stability degraded beyond 95%.]

[Adapting… combining core attributes.]

[Generating custom class is finished.]

[Congratulations, you have gained the Death Smith class.]

* * * * *

The camp had turned from order into chaos in a matter of moments. Every Rifter felt the tremors in the air, the slight discomfort within their Rift-shards. The Rift-event was ending, and it would not be long until it would turn unstable and finally explode outwards. The further away you were from the Rift-event, the less your chances were of surviving the collapse.

Grace had sent a runner out to retrieve the Rifters that had been out mining or hunting monsters. Still, no sane Rifter would ignore that clear sign of a Rift turning unstable and want to linger where they were. Those within the camp were retrieving their equipment, reorganising their backpacks, crates, and their internal inventories.

‘We have lost six people, are missing resources and we will probably end up with wounded if the others don’t make it back in time,’ Grace thought, suppressing the desire to release her frustration and burn something to cinders. A leader kept her cool, no matter her nature. Others looked at her and needed to see a calm face giving precise orders, lest this fiasco turns into something even worse.

She stopped before Connor, Kira, and Louis, seeing Kira pat Louis’s back and whisper something to him. Louis looked several shades paler than she recalled, even after they had returned.

“Mind telling me why this is happening, Connor?” Grace asked, her voice eerily calm.

“I don’t kno-” Connor said before he stopped. A large, constant stream of fire flew past him and burned into a steel beam behind him. It grew bright red before it dripped and melted partially.

“You don’t know why this event is closing? You don’t know why a Rift-guardian suddenly died!” Grace spat, her eyes wide with a rage that she tried desperately to contain. She knew others were looking at her, so she had to keep a lid on it for now. She moved towards him and placed her hand on his shoulder, her palm still hot enough to cause discomfort for Connor.

“The minute we get on the other side of this Rift -and I mean the minute!- we are all going to have a long talk about what the hell happened here,” Grace said, her voice turning colder and colder, yet her palm remained scorching hot.

She wanted to speak with them more, to learn more about what had happened here, but knew that now was not the time. Her duty as a leader was to take care of the people under her command. So, she turned to the others and began giving further instructions, trying to salvage as much as she could from this mess during the little time they still had left.

* * * * *

“Lance… please,” Thomas said weakly, his clouded eyes trying to find his friend.

Lance continued to keep pressure on the wound, despite knowing it was too late. He did not want to give up. He focused on Thomas’s wound as he activated his skill again.

[You have used Mend wounds lvl 1 at the cost of 10 Magicka]

[Current Magicka 17/125]

‘Only one more,’ he thought, desperation flooding his mind as he watched Thomas. He noticed some colours return to his cheeks but knew that it was only temporary. The wound was simply too large to be closed by a weak skill like this. There had been only one chance to save Thomas if Lance had just gotten lucky and gained the healer class. Then he would have been able to stabilize Thomas. He wasn’t sure what he had experienced when he had gotten his class, his memory of that event growing less clear by the minute. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had failed to get the correct class. Failed to save his best friend.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Lance lied, both for Thomas and his own heart. His mind was racing, trying to calculate how far it was to the camp and if he could reach it in time. In his heart, he knew it was futile, but Lance wasn’t listening to that. He could not.

He suddenly felt a small nudge against his chin, demanding his attention. He noticed Thomas’s bloody right fist pressing against it as if he tried to punch him. The fact that his friend’s strength had been reduced to a mere tap nearly broke Lance at that moment, reddening his eyes further.

“Please, Lance… I need you to listen,” Thomas said, his eyes meeting Lance’s, demanding attention. Lance had no choice but to nod, feeling Thomas’s hand leave his chin and fall on his chest again.

“The event is ending… you have minutes… at the most. You need to… make it out… alive,” Thomas said, forcing the words out, obviously in a lot of pain. “I need you…” He winced, the wound once again undoing the little healing Lance had done for him.

[You have used Mend wounds lvl 1 at the cost of 10 Magicka]

[Current Magicka 7/125]

“Stay with me, Thomas,” Lance said, pouring the last of his Magicka into his friend, invigorating his body as the energy tried to heal his wound. As the blue light faded from Thomas, he stirred again, his eyes finding and Lance and focusing on him.

“Lance, I need you to take care of my family… Promise me,” Thomas said, desperation straining his voice. No doubt Thomas could feel his body weakening by the second. Despite Lance’s attempts, Thomas would know what lay in store for him. Lance could see tears forming as Thomas struggled with the emotions that were no doubt raging through him. Lance could only guess what Thomas might feel in that torrent of emotions.

“I promise, Thomas, you don’t have to worry about that,” Lance said, squeezing Thomas’s hand and giving him a soft smile. He could see Thomas paling again, the wound opening once more and draining Thomas of what little strength Lance had returned to him.

Thomas raised his hand, smiling at Lance as he retrieved two items from his inventory. Lance could see the items instantly forming in Thomas’s hand, taking the shape of a cheap lighter and a single cigarette.

“Too bad…” Thomas whispered. His eyes became unfocused as his hand shook. “I was… looking forward to celebrating… with you… my brother,” he said as his hand fell, letting the items fall to on the ground between them, stained red with blood.

Lance placed a hand on Thomas’s neck, trying to feel a pulse as he called out his name. He noticed the empty stare Thomas had, gazing into nothingness. He knew what it meant, even before a message appearing above Thomas’s body. Over time, Lance raised his voice more and more until it was an emotional roar that spoke of loss and despair.

“Thomas!”

As if mimicking his emotions, the Rift joined him, the cavernous terrain trembling in unison as it grew more unstable.

* * * * *

Lance struggled to keep walking, carrying Thomas along with him. He could feel his knees burn from the additional weight of his friend, now slung over his shoulder. A part of him knew that doing so would destroy any chance he had of making it out alive as well. Still, he pressed on, ignoring the pain in his body as he moved further up the tunnel, towards the sound of running water. ‘I am not leaving you,’ he thought repeatedly as the words steeled his resolve.

He finally neared the cliff and fell on his knees, dropping Thomas in front of him. He tore his gaze away from his friend, not wanting to see that empty stare in his eyes. Instead, he focused on the ledge in front of him. Peering over the edge, Lance could see the underground river flowing there. It looked violent and constantly clashed against the stone that was directing it elsewhere.

‘Either this leads back to camp, or further away from it,’ He thought, remembering the flowing water near the camp. If he was to survive and not drown during it, perhaps he could make it to the camp in time.

Lance tried to stand up but fell back on his knees because of the instability that flowed through the terrain, sending powerful tremors through the stone and dirt. He did not have time to stop and think about his chances of survival. Lance had to go in now. He held out his right hand and retrieved an item.

[You have retrieved an item x1]

A moment later, his right hand gripped the handle of Thomas’s banged up shield. He figured it would either drag him down to his death or increase his chances of survival when faced with the jagged rocks dotted around the water. Still, he needed to use anything he had at his disposal. He opened his status screen and noticed the level up notification, showing that he had reached level 10 and had Attribute points to spend. Having killed the Rift-guardian and the smaller goblin, he had gained three levels.

‘Nine points total,’ He thought, his chaotic mind wondering what might improve his chances of survival in what little time he had left. He finally forced all nine points into Endurance, figuring it was all or nothing.

[Endurance:] [25] (+9)

He could feel the changes within his body, strengthening his bones, his muscles and skin. Compared to his body at the start of this Rift, he barely recognised the way his body felt now. The ache in his knees and shoulder lessened, as if the pain was now only a sliver of how he had experienced it mere minutes ago.

‘Now for the hardest part,’ He thought, steeling his heart before he shifted his gaze towards Thomas. He noticed the pale and unmoving form of his friend pulling at his heart. He could have put a thousand points in his Endurance, but that pain he felt when looking at Thomas would be just as damaging.

He placed his hand upon his friend as his gaze shifted from looking at those still eyes to that of the small notification. The notification blinked now and again when Lance looked at Thomas. It was like when Lance noticed items he could pick up, such as a weapon or a piece of iron ore. He had never seen it appear on a body until the moment he had reached level 10 and had gotten the Death Smith class. As far as he knew, this was unheard of in the world of Rifters. Later he would probably give it more thought, to wrap his mind around the unique class he had gotten. But now, he fixated his gaze at just one thing.

[Would you like to store this item?]

[Yes] [No]

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look Thomas in the eyes again before his mind accepted the action. A second later, Thomas dematerialised before his eyes, leaving behind a torn outfit and boots.

[You have stored an item in the inventory.]

Lance suppressed his need to grieve when he noticed the message that said he had stored an item. Instead, he grabbed Thomas’s torn outfit and wrapped it around his arms and chest, hoping the additional layer of protection would allow him to survive at least one jagged piece of rock.

Lance then got up to his knees, gripped the shield tight in his hands before he jumped off the cliff. He felt gravity grab hold of his body and pull him downwards into the river. He hit the water hard and with no grace whatsoever. The freezing water quickly brought him to his senses as he felt his body get pulled alongside the river, slamming into the stone riverbed, the sides and the occasional jagged rock that longed to cut into his flesh.

He could feel the steel shield grind against the stone as the world around him vibrated more and more, showing that the event was at its end. The tremors came faster and faster, like what he had experienced in other Rifts. Ignoring the pain and occasional cuts he got from slamming into the rocks, Lance swam along with the river, increasing his speed.

A part of him knew he would not make it to the camp in time. Even knowing this, it still surprised him when he noticed the enormous expanse of black energy suddenly rush towards him. It engulfed everything in its wake with an unnatural force. Lance barely had time to take a deep breath and hold the shield tight before he plunged into the unnatural darkness.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2021 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2021