After that, they'd have to contend with the savage defenses, elite demons, a hail of gunfire, and fortifications. But even if the advance slowed, Pete calculated that the Company troops would likely reach the harpy within the next hour or so. He and Craig might pick up another six or seven relics each if they were lucky, but given the size of the boss they'd be facing, that simply wasn't going to cut it. They needed a better strategy, a way of killing larger numbers of the elite demons as quickly as possible so that they could gather as many relics as possible.
He turned back to look at the troop carriers, but it didn't look like any of the ships had built-in weaponry. They were simply designed and lacked a large machine gun or cannon or something else he could use to mow down enemies. He could steal one of the ships and simply plow it into the enemy ranks, of course, but he didn't even know if he could gain access to the cockpit, let alone steer one of the vessels. For all he knew, they were fully automated.
"Keep your eyes open for a kiosk or some other place to buy relics," he shouted as they drew closer to the fighting. "If we can't kill enough elites, maybe we can buy some decent relics instead."
Craig nodded, pulling his rifle out and slowing his pace as they approached the rear side of the Corporation army. It took a few minutes to weave their way past rows of fresh troops, shifting direction sharply whenever explosive fire hit the area. The stench of blood and burning flesh mixed with charred ground and sweat filled the air as they moved closer to the front lines.
Pete found himself reflecting on how different it was to be taking part in an immersive game experience like this compared to the detached, hyper-focused version of gaming he was used to back in the pre-apocalypse world. So many books and films wondered how incredible it would be to actually be immersed in a real game like this, but the reality was very different from what he imagined.
To start with, fighting was a full-body experience, and fatigue was far more visceral in the real world than it was in any game. Secondly, the stench of battle was horrific, to the point of being utterly distracting at times. Then there was the slick, sticky blood, the difficulty staying on your feet with so many dead bodies lying around, and the sheer amount of random chance involved in every fight.
Even with the Mammon System controlling so many aspects of the game experience, it still felt like an incredibly violent, slapstick-style Looney Tunes episode more often than not. Perhaps that was the key to all of this, though: developing the necessary skills and stats to master the chaos and get to a point where he could mitigate bad luck and prevail no matter what was thrown in his path.
[Pete] Left! Looks like a bunch of imps.
Craig nodded as they shifted direction and pushed their way through the crowd of soldiers. Pete pulled out his blade as he reached a charred section of ground with half a dozen imps lined up a short distance ahead and several Company soldiers hunched behind a clump of rocks, shielding themselves from the constant balls of fire that shot out from the cluster of imps.
The imps stood like an island, cackling to one another and sending out bursts of flame that kept the surrounding army at bay. They were positioned on the left side of the larger Company force, far enough away from the main fighting that they hadn't yet been overcome but clearly cut off from rebel reinforcements. In Pete's mind, it represented a clear opportunity to kill a large number of imps and score some cash before reaching the front lines of the battle.
[Pete] I'll circle around. You get some cover and start shooting!
[Craig] Got it.
Pete darted off to the right, inscribing a wide circle as he weaved his way past soldiers and headed for a section of ground that would lead him in behind the imps. He ducked and dived, avoiding elbows and shoulders, squeezing through gaps that quickly opened and closed, and shoving his way past smaller soldiers in an effort to reach the imps quickly.
Amid the din of battle, he heard the telltale sound of Craig's altered rifle firing. There was a slight whine that accompanied the goblin's shots now, and occasionally, when the ability triggered, a burst of fire issued from the weapon like a machine gun.
Pete reached the edge of the crowd and broke off into the surrounding trees, sprinting with his knife held in his right hand and curving back toward the imps. Again, he heard the telltale whine of Craig's gun as Pete came up at the side of the clearing where the imps were still sending gouts of flame toward the enemy.
Fortunately, all of their attention seemed to be focused on the boulder that Craig and the others were huddled behind. It also looked like the goblin had killed one or two of the imps already, but Pete was conscious that, if they turned around, he'd have nothing to protect himself from their fire except speed and the turtle shield that he really didn't want to use if he could help it.
[Pete] Coming up to them now.
[Craig] Okay.
The crack and whine of Craig's gun stopped as Pete sprinted out of the trees as quickly as he could manage, blade held out on his right side, mind willing the enemy not to turn around. There were four imps left in the group, all twisting their hands together and summoning fire while they pranced on tiptoes, hopping from clawed foot to foot in a curious dance.
Fire poured from their hands as, one by one, they sent balls of flame toward the boulder. One of the hobgoblin troops hunched behind the rock peered out at precisely the wrong time, and its face was engulfed in fire, sending the brute stumbling backward into the others huddled behind the boulder. Craig was shoved out into the open, along with several other goblins as the wounded hobgoblin thrashed about, blinded, its face melting as the flames clung to its body.
One of the imps had yet to release its flames and was about to send a burst of fire directly at Craig when Pete brought his combat blade down in a slashing arc aimed at the creature's neck. The enhanced blade bit into flesh and sliced neatly through, sending the imp's head tumbling to the ground as the fire it had been conjuring was snuffed out.
>> KILL BOUNTY: 100 Belch Bucks
Pete kept moving, swinging around and kicking a second imp before it had a chance to react. He then jammed the end of the blade into the face of a third figure, sticking the weapon through the creature's nose slit and, presumably, into its brain.
He raised a boot and kicked the imp backward, and a spray of gore and liquid fire gushed from the creature's head wound.
>> KILL BOUNTY: 100 Belch Bucks
As Pete spun around to face the remaining two imps, his combat knife was now wreathed in flames. He sliced down at the closest imp, severing the creature's right arm before it had a chance to summon fire and elbowed the other imp in the face with a satisfying crack to send it staggering backward.
Pete returned to the first imp, swiping at its other arm and slicing neatly through the crimson flesh before finishing off the creature by cutting in a horizontal stroke and severing its head in one quick move.
>> KILL BOUNTY: 100 Belch Bucks
Once more, liquid fire sprayed along with blood and gore. Pete felt the skin on his right arm begin to blister and burn in response to the sudden increase in heat, but he ignored the pain and turned to face the final enemy. Sensing that it was overpowered and destined for a short, sharp death, the imp turned and ran, sprinting back toward the trees at speed.
A sharp crack split the air, and the imp's back erupted with blood and liquid fire as it fell to the ground and promptly disintegrated. Pete turned around as Craig came running.
"Shot!" he said, grinning over at the goblin.
Craig nodded, jogging up alongside Pete, rifle in hand. He looked down at the plot of ground where the imp had died.
"Don't you think it's curious that the enemy bodies vanish once they are killed but the Company dead still linger?"
He motioned back the way they'd come at a battlefield still littered with dead bodies.
Pete shrugged. "Has to be some reason for it. Maybe they want to remind everyone watching the feeds about the sacrifice all the Company soldiers made here."
Craig grunted. "While they erase the memory of the rebels who died fighting for their own cause."
The sound of nearby explosions interrupted their conversation, forcing them to move back into the trees and head toward the river once again. As they moved, they spotted several more imps and even a few standard demon units, which they dispatched efficiently, gathering more funds as they moved through the trees.
This continued for the next few minutes until they reached a break in the tree line that led to the river. Troops on both sides were firing at one another, while several large groups of Corporation soldiers were attempting to cross the river and begin attacking the gun emplacements on the other side.
The word carnage didn't quite do the scene justice. Slowed by the shallow river, the Company troops were sitting ducks, easily mowed down by machine-gun fire that strafed the water and the shoreline from the opposite bank. Bodies floated in the water, carried downstream by a gentle current as more and more soldiers courageously plunged forward in an attempt to reach the other side.
Pete and Craig crouched down low, watching from the sidelines as a seemingly endless stream of soldiers threw themselves in front of the enemy guns. The slaughter was absolute, and unless the rebels ran out of bullets, Pete couldn't see how the advance was going to continue.
That was until the rumbling sound of mechanized vehicles drew his gaze to the rear of the Company line. To call them tanks would be a gross exaggeration. The armored vehicles were definitely tank-like, but they were relatively small—about the size of a minivan—with a large-caliber machine-gun barrel jutting out from a metal cabin on top and a large armor plate out front like a mini bulldozer.
The tanks struggled to gain much speed, their tracks moving slowly as they progressed through lines of parting soldiers, squeaking and whining in complaint with a mechanical noise that wasn't at all comforting. If Pete could think of two words to summarize the look and sound of the armored vehicles, those words would likely be 'cheap crap.'
They trundled along, gun barrels bobbing up and down as they rattled forward, thick plumes of smoke expelled from their exhausts and filling the battlefield with a dull haze. Pete stared at the closest unit, wondering what kinds of controls it would have and how hard it would be to commandeer one of the vehicles. Despite their cheap construction, the mini-tank guns looked like they could do some serious damage.
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In response to the addition of the armored vehicles, the rebels began firing mortars once more, filling the sky with whistling projectiles that rained down on the Company soldiers and caused utter devastation. Pete and Craig ran, sprinting to distance themselves from the explosions and following the river back to the left, away from the fighting and the enemy they needed to fight.
Three of the dozen or so mini-tanks were destroyed in the opening salvo, their armored shells torn apart as they were thrown up into the air along with clods of dirt, sand, and debris. One of the tanks exploded, and the others kept rumbling toward the river, moving painfully slowly as mortars continued to fall.
As Pete and Craig reached a safe point, they turned around and watched the carnage ensue. Pete confirmed that the tanks were controlled by two occupants, a driver and gunner. He knew this because one of the tanks was hit with a glancing blow, which sent it careening through the air, bouncing on the ground and leaving a bloody smear of dead bodies as it rolled and tumbled toward where he and Craig were standing.
As the half-shredded tank finally came to a smoldering stop, two bloody figures slithered out of the wreckage. One goblin wore an old-fashioned pair of driving goggles and leather gloves that Pete took to indicate the driver. The other goblin climbed out of the top compartment of the ruined tank, peeling himself through sheets of jagged metal to reveal a small gunner cockpit inside.
The pair were bleeding profusely and slumped to the ground a few yards from the tank wreckage as mortars continued to fall and more of the mini-tanks were obliterated, along with dozens of Company soldiers.
[Pete] We could use one of those tanks. The gun, at least.
[Craig] Yes, but they're too slow. I doubt any of them will even reach the river.
They watched as mortar shells continued to fall, the resulting explosions shaking the ground as more troops and tanks were destroyed. In the next thirty seconds, two of the tanks managed to make it clear of the Company troops and reached the riverbank. In addition to the mortar fire, rebel machine guns peppered the tanks, but the majority of bullets bounced harmlessly off the protective plates out front of each vehicle.
Pete watched with interest as the mini-tanks began to fire. As he suspected, while they weren't built to travel fast or even armored sufficiently in his opinion, their guns were far more effective. They fired a blistering stream of projectiles at an extremely rapid rate, roaring like some furious animal as they shot over the river and scythed through the enemy ranks on the opposite side.
Roars of triumph went up from the Company soldiers, and they thrust their weapons into the air as the mini-tanks dealt lethal justice to the demonic horde on the opposite side of the riverbank. The cheering lasted only a few moments, though, as continued mortar fire eventually hit their mark and both tanks were blown apart, the shrapnel tearing through surrounding troops.
Pete's ears were still ringing when Craig elbowed him in the side. The little goblin was pointing at something in the river nearby, motioning for Pete to duck down low.
[Pete] What is it?
[Craig] Enemy forces beneath the water, and perhaps an opportunity. They have not seen us yet; I think.
Pete squinted down into the water, spotting the lithe shapes swimming through the water. They looked similar to the sword-wielding demons that gathered on the opposite side of the bank, but instead of bright red skin, they appeared to be entirely black. As they began to emerge from the water, Pete saw that they had much smaller horns than the red demons and, instead of swords, they held a black dagger in each hand.
Half a dozen of the demons emerged silently from the water, walking quickly toward the nearby soldiers. The moment their bodies left the water, the color of their skin changed, shifting from pitch black to a dull green hue that was eerily similar to the uniforms of the Company troops.
[Pete] Camouflage.
Craig raised his gun, aiming at the stealthy group of enemies.
[Craig] Be prepared. They will doubtless come for us once I shoot.
Pete stepped forward so that he was a few paces in front of the goblin.
[Pete] Do it.
The goblin fired, shooting several shots in rapid succession just as the dagger-wielding demons began to attack the Company soldiers. The closest rebel was shot three times, each successful hit yielding a plume of blood as the figure turned and ducked low to the ground, glossy black eyes searching.
Craig killed the demon before it was able to locate him and Pete, but the other stealthy demons soon noticed their dead comrade and turned to face the pair. As Craig aimed for another enemy and sent a burst of precise gunfire into its chest, the others moved into a sprint, shifting from green to the beige color of the surrounding sandy earth.
As Pete prepared himself for the attack, he noticed more of the demons emerging from the waters, their daggers opening up arteries and cutting through the front rows of Company troops with lethal precision. Unprepared for the water-born attack, the soldiers scattered in confusion, some of them firing at one another in a frantic attempt to fight back against the enemy within their ranks.
The camouflaged enemies drove forward, making their way through the soldiers like a rapidly spreading virus, blood gushing from dozens of fresh wounds as chaos reigned and dozens of troops fell.
Craig took out another of the enemies before they got close enough to attack, but three of the dark forms made it to Pete before the goblin could gun them down. Instead of attacking individually, they encircled Pete, ducking in at his weak point and slashing with their daggers. He successfully deflected the first attack but felt a cold blade bite into his right side before he could turn and stop the second.
Gunfire popped as Craig pulled his sidearm and fired at the third enemy, preventing it from finishing the attack and likely killing Pete with a slashing strike at his throat. Pete used the opportunity to launch an attack of his own, reasoning that simply attempting to defend would likely get him killed.
It might have been the countless hours he had spent playing video games, the smaller amount of time he had spent in the gym, or more likely the explosive hours he had endured in the Dominion Ultrimax Contest thus far, but either way, Pete realized that somewhere along the line he had learned how to fight. Even without access to his Penny Pincher class or all of the proficiency and gear bonuses he had picked up thus far, he was able to quickly assess the situation and attack or defend as needed.
That was an odd thought to have as he lunged forward and swiped his lengthened combat blade at one of the camouflage enemies, and the fact that he had time enough to consider it proved the point.
The demon ducked back, narrowly avoiding the swipe before jabbing in with its own daggers. Pete knocked aside one strike and dodged out of the way of another, turning just as the second demon attacked.
The camouflage enemies were much faster than the normal enemy units and the imps. Where the elite brutes they had faced favored strength over speed, these demons ducked forward and back so quickly that Pete had to constantly move just to stay ahead of them. Once again, he lamented the fact that his greatest strength—his Agility attribute—had been temporarily taken from him. The fact that he was still in the fight was a testament to the slight Agility boost his Credit Card relic offered.
Pete blocked a second strike but moved too slowly to avoid a swipe across the arm, which was followed up by a cut to the abdomen that sent a shock of pain running through his torso. It was only then, as he moved back a few steps, that he saw that the two demons he was facing were toying with him. They were both grinning, inky black teeth glinting in the light from within their jagged maws as dark ichor spilled down from their lips.
They hissed strange slogans as they circled Pete, midnight eyes locked on him as they whispered phrases that seemed eerily similar to the kinds of statements written in Grizzle's religious text.
"Profit is poison!"
"Purge the earners!"
"Abolish wealth, abolish order!"
The phrases were hurled at Pete like insults. In contrast with the followers of The Pious Path of the Penniless Penitents, these weren't pacifistic slogans designed to foster peaceful protest. They were calls for unreasonable violence; demands that all should be punished for their part in a corrupt capitalist system, even those who had no choice in the matter and no ability to influence that system.
Pete grinned as he lunged forward and took a swipe at the closest demon. It danced out of the way, hissing and spitting ichor while the second demon continued a string of slogans.
"Destroy the corporation, burn all who serve the Belch!"
"Down with the Dominion!"
Whoever had designed these propaganda-style enemies certainly knew their stuff. They were aberrations, purpose-built to sicken and enrage, precisely as the Corporation undoubtedly wanted it.
Once more, Pete fended off a jab from one of the demons, elbowing a second in anticipation of a follow-up attack and pressing his advantage by slashing down with his own blade and scoring a thin cut across the creature's flesh. The two attackers backed away warily, still hissing their slogans, still grinning those maddening grins.
They were both bleeding now. The golden thistle icon at the top of Pete's display shone momentarily, indicating that the ten percent additional bleed damage offered by the Belch Blessed Thistle relic had taken effect. It wasn't enough to kill the demons at that point, but the wounds definitely made them more wary.
Pete caught sight of Craig struggling to finish off the last demon a short distance away. The little goblin had managed to shoot the creature several times but had been forced to grapple the enemy and finish the job with his combat knife. Pete couldn't tell who was ultimately going to win the fight, but he decided that they'd both been delayed long enough. Time was a factor in this contest, and being stalled by these dagger-wielding demons might even be worse than being killed and starting again.
With that decision made, he picked the weaker of the two enemies and drove toward the creature. As before, his swipe failed to connect, and the creature retaliated before backing away. Instead of turning to fight the second demon, however, Pete pressed his attack, wrong-footing his original target and, instead of striking with the knife, jabbing the demon in the face with his fist.
Pain bloomed in his left hand as his fist smashed into the creature's face. He felt bone cracking but couldn't tell whether it was something in the demon's head that had broken or one of his own fingers. He pressed his attack regardless, thrusting his combat blade up at the demon's chest and batting away the creature's attempts to retaliate with his right arm. Pete's knife cut into the demon's skin but only a little as it dodged the bulk of the attack.
An unexpected kick to the gut sent the rebel staggering backward and gave Pete the chance he needed to finish the fight. He half lunged, half fell onto the creature, using his bulk to drive it to the ground while thrusting his combat knife through its chest. Not wanting to expose his back to the remaining demon, Pete then rolled off the dying rebel and pulled his knife free, hoping that the thrust through the chest would be enough to finish it off.
There was no time to consider the matter any further as the remaining demon attacked in a frenzy, dark daggers slashing through the air so quickly that Pete was forced to back away, scrambling to stay ahead of the lethal strikes. The best he could manage was to avoid having his arteries cut open, but the dagger blades still cut deep several times before he was able to distance himself from the attacker.
>> KILL BOUNTY: 200 Belch Bucks
Blood poured from the wounds on his arms and side as Pete hunched over. The first demon had died, but Pete's health regeneration worked slowly, and the remaining foe seemed to have been worked into a frenzy.
"PROFIT IS POISON!" the demon hissed, pressing forward once again, knives slashing.
Pete blocked the first strike, but the demon ducked down low and cut him across the thigh before he could clear his legs. The pain was instant, and Pete's mobility was immediately affected. He stumbled, holding his combat knife out front as he prepared to trigger the Turtle relic as the demon advanced.
A crack split the air, and the demon's head exploded. Pete turned to see Craig sitting on the ground, rifle in hand, panting for breath. The goblin nodded, lowering the gun and getting slowly to his feet while Pete pressed a hand against his leg wound and waited for his health regeneration to seal up the wounds.
They both turned to face the nearby soldiers. It seemed that they had managed to kill most of the stealth demons in their midst, but the Company troops had paid a heavy price. At a casual glance, it looked like at least a dozen troops had been killed for every demon they put down, and the attack had left the front lines in shambles.
To make matters worse, machine-gun fire started up again from the other side of the riverbank, cutting into the survivors and mowing them down with terrible efficiency. Protective shields were brought forward from the rear ranks—large metal plates that took three hobgoblins to carry, with a single slit at the eyeline allowing those hunkered behind the shield to view the path ahead. There were also holes in either side of the barriers, through which goblin troops placed rifles and fired wherever possible.
Like everything else the Company soldiers were supplied with, the protective shields looked only half-finished, as though they'd been pulled off an assembly line before the final touches could be made. They were relatively effective at deflecting machine-gun fire, however, and the surviving soldiers quickly ran for cover behind the bulky shields.
[Pete] Why the fuck are they only bringing those out now?
[Craig] I suppose it is all part of the theater. We find ourselves in a propaganda film of a sort, Pete, and it is likely that details like this have all been scripted.
Pete pulled his hand from the wound on his leg, finding that the worst of his injuries had healed sufficiently so that he was no longer bleeding and no longer in danger of stumbling when he tried to move.
[Pete] Come on. We need to get across that river, and we need to find some elites.
They moved forward as the machine-gun fire suddenly stopped. A horn blasted, cutting through the din with a mournful wail. Pete and Craig looked across the river at the stronghold on the other side. The horn blasted again, and huge iron gates opened near the middle of the walls that encircled the harpy's position, creaking as demonic shouts rose from the gathered rebels.
Pete shook his head. "What the fuck is this now?"