Chapter Twenty-Seven: Repercussions

TWENTY-SEVEN

Roan realized it was a mistake at the end of the first hour. He’d killed over thirty of the reanimated corpses by now. The weight of credits in his bank account was comforting but he could only watch as more and more of the anomalies peeled away and ran down corridors. He’d just killed his thirty-first of the reanimated corpses, sweeping its legs and bursting the tumor on its stomach, when he noticed it.

INFERIOR REANIMATED CORPSE

300 CREDITS

ANOMALIES DESTROYED: 49/4336

The amount of anomalies had crept up by nine. Roan could only curse as he backed up, legs wobbling in exhaustion as the weight of his fuck up descended on him.

“I knew. I could have warned them. Given people a chance.” He reached into his pocket and found the stamina potion, popping it open with one hand and swallowing its contents in a single swig.

It was the first time he’d felt tired since he had repaired the amulet and he instantly knew he never wanted to take another one. It was bitter and sour, puckering his face while his heart lurched in his chest as he felt a boundless energy explode in the pit of his stomach. The lethargy disappeared, his trembling muscles firmed up, and clarity returned.

“You couldn’t have warned everyone. There’s at least another eight saferooms at minimum and you wouldn’t have been able to save them. These are competent and skilled fighters who knew the dangers. We do need to warn our group though.” Roan accepted the self-reprimand and started to back up at a faster rate.

His continued retreat had been much slower than his earlier run towards the breeze he’d felt, but he still felt like he should be close to where he had started his journey. The issue was the crypts all looked identical. Roan couldn’t tell exactly where he’d come out of.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Impatience is going to kill you.” There was a frenzy to the thoughts as he jogged backward, keeping his eyes on the horde while looking over his shoulder every now and then. The pressure from the gale of life force was muted now, close to what it had originally been.

Roan saw him out of the corner of his eye. A man rushed out of the hallway dressed in the tidy uniform of one of the colleges. Black leather coat with the sigil of a white tower on the breast. He drove into the horde and cut down two of the reanimated corpses in a flash of light. The stranger was supernaturally quick, darting in and out of the gaps in the horde before they could respond.

Five of the reanimated died in moments as the man sped through the ranks. There was a glimmer around him as if light was refracting off of water. Then it guttered out as the man reached the edge of the horde. He stumbled and nearly fell, but he was skilled enough to cut apart a sixth reanimated as he fell into a roll and got away from their grasping hands.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Roan thought the man had enough space for a second. Most of the reanimated were slow, only moving in bursts of speed once they were close to him. Except for those who had had bloodlines.