Chapter 184: Trial Failed Successfully

William Oh is the ultimate wingman. He once broke the ice between a centaur and a mermaid. They’re still together to this day actually, making those disgusting half-human, quarter horse, quarter fish babies that raid the coastal villages of Del’mar.

Regardless of how ill-advised that match was, or how we’re still paying for it now, William Oh did it. because he is the ultimate wingman.

• Jason Salazar

 

Welcome to the Class Advancement Trial.

Using a portion of power of the Sacrifices User has provided this far, a synthetic body has been created for the Trial. User’s consciousness has been projected into it.

In the blink of an eye, the connection to Will’s real body snapped, and his only perspective was standing in a blank white space, naked and panting from shock.

Will waved his hand in front of his face.

I can see!

User will now be given an objective. Complete the objective and the trial will end. Fail the objective or die and the trial will end.

You are free to accomplish the objective in whatever way you see fit. Class Advancement is determined after the trial has ended. Failure does not prevent Class Advancement, but may negatively affect the outcome.

In order to minimize turbulence, you will be prevented from providing any details regarding your identity or background.

Your objective is to neutralize or remove the Miasmatic Host that has taken up residence in the concert hall opposite the university. Failing that, protect Professor Lauren Holdna from the Miasmatic Host. Use whatever means necessary.

Lauren who-

There was a sudden sensation of falling, and suddenly Will was in a dimly lit room, surrounded by other naked Climbers, each of them jerking in place as though they had missed a step on a staircase. Presumably they’d all landed here at the exact same moment.

It didn’t say there would be others, Will thought. Didn’t say there wouldn’t be either.

Must be incredibly difficult if there was this many Climbers. At least a dozen.

They silently glanced at each other. Any level 50 worth their salt wouldn’t make noise when they didn’t know what the situation was.

Will held up his hand in the universal sign for ‘scout’.

Three other Climbers held up the sign, while others indicated themselves as ‘nukers’ ‘tanks’ and ‘warriors’, organizing themselves wordlessly.

Will did a double-take at one of the warriors.

He looked a little younger, but that was definitely Lord Bakton. Likely the age he was when he Advanced his class.

Bakton caught Will staring and raised a brow.

Will shrugged and shook his head.

Not much we can do about the existential questions raised by time travel, especially if our memory is getting erased.

The room was suddenly cast in a harsh red light as a voice began speaking from everywhere at once.

“Miasmatic Host detected. Multiple smaller Miasmatic signatures detected inside the compound. All hands report to stations.”

Will frowned and cocked his head at the strange words and the stranger accent. It sounded…old.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any more time to think about it, as the door to the room was kicked open, and a human wearing strange, bulky clothes and wielding what seemed to be the stock of a crossbow stormed into the room.

“CONTACT!” The strangely dressed human shouted before pulling the trigger.

The room erupted into a deafening cacophony as lead bullets began to stream from the little hole at the front of the crossbow stock, at roughly the speed that Will’s phantom hand could throw them.

Will and the others with high speed simply avoided the barrel, zipping around the room.

Nukers held up shields that glowed miasmatic blue as the bullets bounced off, and Tank…tanked it.

“Ow.” One of the tanks grunted, flicking one of the flattened bullets off his chest, revealing a forming bruise.

“You little-“ one of the nukers muttered, fire blooming from his hand.

“HOLD UP!” Bakton said, standing between them and the human while Will sprinted past him and confiscated the strange weapon. Behind the human with the streange weapon were half a dozen more.

Willl confiscated their weapons as they raised them.

“Killing these men isn’t our Objective! If anything we’re probably here to help.” Bakton said, gesturing for calm.

A leader even then, Will thought, sprinting across the ceiling above the gawking soldiers.

Phantom Eye.

103 Charges remaining

Will’s view split into two, and he sent the eye the other direction, scouting out the hall in both directions.

Maybe I shouldn’t have given Reggie the Dimensional Coiled Serpent Amulet. It would come in handy right no-

Will checked his Phantom Hand’s slots.

They were empty.

Nevermind. They really did just make a copy of me, so it’s just my base stats.

I guess I can find a relic and slot it for now. More importantly, where can I find some pants?

Will came to a T, and split off another couple Phantom Eyes before heading back, absorbing the information as he returned to where Bakton was taking control of the situation.

“Who are you people?” One of the subdued civilians asked.

“We were sent here to destroy the Miasmatic Host,” Bakton said. “Failing that, we are to protect Professor Lauren Holdna.”

“…Naked?” one of the civilians blurted before another human, seemingly the man’s boss, took over the conversation.

“You can’t destroy the Host,” one of the civilians said. “The miasma out there will turn you to sludge in a matter of seconds. Pee pee ee for that level of miasma doesn’t exist.”

“We’ll be fine.” Bakton said. “But we need to get our bearings. No sense sprinting out into the miasma before we know where the Host is. Take us to your leader, and this Lauren Holdna.”

“I…can’t do that. You don’t have any proof you’re not apparitions.”

“Their leader’s down the hall to the right, another right on the third hall, past an 8-inch thick metal door, with a bunch of people wearing weird white coats. There’s three women, and I imagine this Lauren is one of those three.” Will said, watching the man with the frazzled hair barking orders while the people in the white coats either cowered, rocking in place, or wiggled their fingers on strange rectangles with manic desperation.

One of the women in particular seemed a likely candidate, as she studied a dozen magical windows into different sections of the building, her fingers flying across her rectangular finger-thingy.

The other two women were staring blankly into the wall, hyperventilating as if they were coming face to face with their death.

Will couldn’t imagine The Tower sending him to save someone who wasn’t competent, so that made him think they were supposed to protect the one that hadn’t given up.

Will’s Phantom eye approached maybe-Lauren, studying her and the strange desk she worked at.

She was kind of cute, actually, with black hair and lenses, and a serious expression.

In one of her windows, Will even made out himself, standing alone in the hall, from a point of view above his left shoulder. Curious, Will turned and spotted a strange lump in the ceiling that reminded him of the turrets on the 8^th Floor.

Watching over the woman’s shoulder with Phantom Eye, Will saw his image turn and look straight at her.

She froze, her eyes locked on Will.

Will winked and gave her a thumbs-up, causing her breath to hitch.

Weird stuff, Will thought, returning his attention to current situation.

“That way? Thank you, scout.” Bakton said, leaning down to retrieve a long knife from the belt of one of the civilians.

“’smajob, B-” Will tries to call him Bakton, but the Lord’s name wouldn’t leave his mouth.

Interesting. No names.

“Thes people don’t seem dangerous, but let’s get a damage chain going just in case.” Bakton said, and the assembled Climbers nodded, making it so.

Once that was done, the dozen climbers sprinted down the halls, heading unerringly for the door with all the people cowering behind it, until they came across the steel door Will had sent Phantom Eye through.

They’re getting really upset, Will thought, watching the panic levels rise as the climbers headed straight for them, bypassing the labyrinthine corridors thanks to Will’s scouting.

And yet, through it all, the person he’d assumed to be the Professor didn’t grow any more or less agitated, their fingers flying across the black rectangle..doing…something.

“There’s about four of them pointing those weird bullet-shooters at the door,” Will said, standing back as Bakton approached.

“Understood.”

“And It seems like some of them might be considering suicide,” Will reported, watching a couple of the men with big bars on their shoulders put those strange weapons to their temples.

“Can anyone CC?” Bakton asked, glancing over his shoulder.

One of the nukers nodded and flung a Charge forward, and everyone in the room froze.

“Yep, they’re neutralized.” Will said with a nod.

“Excellent.” Bakton took the knife in hand and carved a hole in the steel door, allowing them to step through single-file.

The civilians’ weapons were confiscated, and the paralysis was withdrawn, allowing them to breathe.

“Greetings, civilians. We have come to assist in neutralizing the Miasmatic Host and protect Professor Lauren Holdna.” Bakton said.

Will spotted the woman at her desk hold her breath.

Yep, that’s the one.

“I’m not a goddamn civilian! Who the hell are you!?” one of the older men with fancy bars on his shoulders demanded, pointing at Bakton. “Who sent you!?”

Bakton frowned, seemingly wanting to say things, but unable to.

“Can’t say,” he finally said with a shrug. “Which one of you is Professor Holdna?”

“This one,” the older man said, dragging one of the hyperventilating women to her feet. “Take her.”

“No-I” The woman looked like she was about to pass out from fright. She also wasn’t who they were looking for. Will could tell just by reading the man’s sneaky glances at the real one.

Will was just about to point out the right one, when she stood away from the desk and turned to face them.

“I’m professor Lauren Holdna,” She said, turning to face them, back straight and head lifted.

Wow, she’s cute, Will thought. Maybe fifteen years older than him, which kind of put her out of his league, but definitely Will’s type. A lot like an older Brianna, actually.

Just needs an apron with some flour stains…And standing up in a situation like this…brave, too.

“Protection on her,” Bakton said, pointing.

Will volunteered, along with a Tank and two warriors, creating a makeshift four-man guard detail.

“Where are we, and which way is the Host?” Bakton demanded, scanning the rest of the room. “We’re gonna kill it.”

“And where can we get some goddamn pants?” Will chimed in.

That single humanizing request seemed to rachet down the tension.

“You can’t attack the Host, and you can’t evacuate the professor,” The older man with fancy shoulderpads said, slumping down into his seat. “The miasma is too high outside. You’ll all be screaming puddles of goo in a matter of seconds. In a few seconds more you’ll be another one of the monsters clawing at the bunker’s walls.

…There’s nowhere to go.”

“Nevertheless,” Bakton said. “Point us where we need to go, and we will make it happen.”

“…It’s hopeless.”

To their surprise, Professor Holdna reached into the man’s coat and pulled out a weird shiny knob before shoving him out of his chair and taking his seat, shoving the knob into a slot that matched it.

“You give up when you’re dead, John!” the professor shouted, her fingers wiggling on another rectangle-shaped projection.

A strange illusion of a map appeared on the table’s surface.

“This is the bunker. Here’s the Host. It’s flooding the area with Miasma that will kill everyone in the city in a matter of hours. We can let you out the airlock and all you have to do is take a left. Follow the road about two blocks and you’ll come across the concert hall and university. The concert hall’s on the right.

She motioned with her hand and the map of the bunker expanded until they could see all the individual hallways.

She drew a line with her finger, creating a line on the map.

“Here’s where we are. Follow this route to the armory, where you’ll be able to get weapons” – she glanced at Will – “and pants. Then go here to reach the airlock. Wait for us to let you through, because if you just cut your way out, all of us will-“

At the mention of people leaving the bunker, the ‘John’ fellow’s eyes widened. “Under no circumstances will I allow you to-”

Will backhanded the older fellow to the ground, false teeth flying out of his mouth.

“You are in no position to allow anything.” Will said.

“Thank you, scout.” Baktons said.

“No problem, warrior.” Will replied.

Bakton turned his attention to the professor.

“This armory, does it have real weapons or just these underwhelming lead-shooters that couldn’t kill anything above the 4^th Floor?” Bakton asked.

“Ummm.” She slowly shrugged, seemingly confused by their line of questioning.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Swords. Relics. Any of those?” Bakton pressed.

The Professor shook her head.

“Preposterous.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Will said, holding up a finger.

He shaped the armor on his Phantom hand into a narrow blade and cut a rough saber out of the solid steel door, tossing it to Bakton.

“You seem like the saber type.” Will said.

“…Have we fought each other before?” Bakton asked with a frown as he pinched his fingertips down the steel blade, straightening and sharpening it to his satisfaction.

“Can’t say,” Will replied with a grin. “Anybody else need a weapon?”

In a matter of minutes, Will had carved the door into five or so makeshift weapons. not great, but good enough to kill some of the small fry outside and hopefully get some Relics out of them.

The professor led them down the hall to the armory, with Will and the other bodyguards surrounding her.

“Do you bake?”

“…What?” the professor asked, glancing up at Will.

“As a hobby. Do you bake?”

“Kid, if you’re flirting in an attempt to take my mind off the prospect of imminent death, you’re doing a lousy job, and no, I don’t bake as a hobby. I hunt. When I’m not working, I like to get out, become one with nature and all the beautiful animals. Then shoot them. Not that nature exists anymore, but it was nice to shoot at while it lasted. Haven’t really had time for vacation anyway last couple years though, ya know?”

Will blinked.

“…Huh.”

The Professor lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “How can you be this relaxed? Why do you guys have miasma signatures? Where did you come from? Did you actually know I was looking at you? Are you a telepath? Are you guys secret super soldiers immune to miasma, cloned in a vat or something? Did Dr A. figure out teleportation? And John? John’s a tough old bastard. How did you knock him out with a single backhand? You couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and forty pounds, and he’s pushing two fifty, and leaner than you’d think.”

“Can’t say,” Will said, shaking his head.

“Why are you like ten years younger than the rest of these guys?” She asked.

“I assume because he’s some kind of prodigy.” Bakton said, glancing over his shoulder, gaze lingering on Will.

“…You guys don’t know each other?” The professor asked, frowning, scanning the climbers as she walked alongside them.

The assembled Climbers glanced around, their gaze coming to an unspoken agreement before they shrugged.

“Can’t say!” The Climbers all said as one, before breaking into gales of laughter and good-natured shoulder-punching.

A minute later, they came across the armory, and as expected, it was disappointing, but there were enough pants and shirts for everyone, which at least made them feel more comfortable.

“Oooh, these socks are nice,” Will said slipping on the heavenly-soft socks on over his feet before lacing up the boots.

The materials were weird, but clothes were clothes, and in a matter of minutes, everyone had their junk securely tucked away and were marching to the ‘airlock’.

Will pictured it as some kind of music-based lock, like a flute that you had to play certain chords to open a door.

It turned out not to be that. It was two doors that prevented airflow while entering or leaving a room. How boring was that?

“Here, I grabbed you guys some Mike’s,” she said, holding out tiny little pale lumps of…something.

“Mike’s what?” Will asked.

“Mike’s.” She said, cocking her head. “Microphones? Communicators? Radios?”

The group just stared at her.

The professor’s eyebrows rose as she took in their blank expressions.

“Okay, just, do as I do.” She said with the tone one might speak to a child, taking one in hand and showing it to them. “You see the little hole? Place that side inward and put the whole thing in your ear.” She proceeded to do so. shoving the little thing all the way inside her ear. “It will let me talk to you while you’re outside.”

Will and the others did as they were instructed and jammed the weird thingies in their ears.

“I don’t know what agency made you guys, but clearly it was a rush job,” She muttered, her voice echoing in their ears.

“I’ll stay in here with the professor.” The tank said.

“I’ll clear the surrounding area,” Will said, the warriors dedicated to guarding the professor nodding alongside him.

“The rest of us will stage an attack on the Host.” Bakton said.

“Alright, I’ll watch you fellas on the cameras, and we’ll see if you really are immune to miasma like you say.” The Professor said, slapping a palm on a black rectangle beside the first door. “Either that or I get to watch you make a mess of my airlock.”

The door opened, and all the Climbers, minus the one tank, entered the tiny mini-room.

A moment later, the second door opened, and a flood of Miasma rushed in and slapped them all in the face.

And…I’m blind again. Great. Will thought sourly.

Phantom Eye.

100 Charges remaining.

The Miasma hit like a sledgehammer, but it did little more than rock the Climbers on their heels. It wasn’t too bad. The main problem was the horde of monsters rushing the newly opened door.

They were obviously former humans, but it wasn’t because the wildly mutated monsters had any semblance of humanity: That was long gone.

It was the scraps of clothing caught in carapaces or spines fluttering in the wind like flags as they sprinted forward, jaws and mandibles twitching with some blend of feral rage and unrelenting hunger.

Will knew they could only represent a small fraction of the population, most had simply died. And yet, they were everywhere.

Unfortunately, these newly-minted monsters were up against level 50’s.

BOOM!

The Nukers cleared the surrounding area with fire and lightning, and the melee Climbers pushed into the empty space, cutting a path towards the road ahead.

When Will got a moment to look around with the Phantom Eye, he was amazed to note that the place looked almost identical to the city in the 8^th Floor, with tall buildings coated in glass, and perfect roads that looked like they had been squared off by a razor-blade.

Does society just look this way when the population gets this high, or is it the other way around?

When he turned the Phantom Eye around and glanced behind him, he paused for a moment upon seeing the distinctive beam of miasmatic blue shooting upwards out of the dour grey building and disappearing into the night sky.

Key site? Will thought, frowning.

Are all key Sites these ‘bunkers’?