TWENTY-FIVE
LEVEL QUEST GENERATED
DESTROY THE ANOMALIES
ANOMALIES DESTROYED: 0/4327
“Think we found out why we all got sequestered in the saferooms,” someone muttered. Roan was already dismissing the words from his vision and heading out of the saferoom portal.
“Roan, hold on we should,” Darren said from behind him, but Roan ignored him and walked through the portal.
“Whatever they want to talk about is going to be pure speculation. Better to go and figure it out and then make a plan if I can’t handle it myself.” It was the type of reasoning that justified being rash. The ticking clock and his still slim bank account was a pressure that continually pressed him forward.
It was a change in the air. That was the first thing that Roan noticed as he stepped free of the portal, warhammer poised and ready to defend or attack at a moment’s notice. Instead of the normal crypt smells, dust, rot, stale air, it felt invigorated. Like a spring day as the plants bloomed and the wind whipped forth with vigor.
Then he saw the bodies. Or rather, the lack of them. They had taken the slain and moved them to the side, giving them what dignity they could in the tower. The flickering light of the torches in the cul-de-sac revealed that there was nothing to be seen. No dead bodies, no hordes of undead waiting patiently in the confines of their hallway crypts.
Only broken bones and rusted weapons. Those were still laying on the ground in great heaps.
Roan moved forward carefully, eyes alert for any change or sign of danger as he headed to the closest of the hallways that would lead to the boulevard. Behind him came the sounds of boots scraping the ground and people talking as the rest of the association started to pile out of the saferoom.
“Losing your lead. Move it,” Roan chided himself and started to move faster. If there was any chance of breaking free of the pack, truly breaking free of them, then he needed to move by himself and earn by himself. At least until he managed to buy his foundational skills.
He started to jog down the halls, moving toward the wide boulevard at a good clip. Part of him wanted to do this slowly, creeping grave to grave and harvesting everything he could. But the sounds of the others behind him pushed him forward until he was nearly running, long legs eating up ground as he searched for any signs of a fight.
Without the worry of fighting his way through a horde of undead, the hallway didn’t take long to run. He guessed it was close to a mile long but couldn’t be sure. It took about six minutes to run at a comfortable but steady pace. The boulevard appeared before him suddenly and he slid to a halt as he felt a breeze on his face.
“That’s not right,” Roan muttered as he started to jog forward into the breeze. He felt good, there was no strain as he ran or hint of exhaustion as he looked around for anything that would break the monotony of the boulevard.
Roan had guessed that this entire level was just rows of the graves bisected by the single boulevard that dead ended into cul-de-sacs. He had to think it over again as he ran, the breeze growing stronger against him as he ran. Nobody had managed to meet him yet and there still wasn’t a sign of any skeletons aside from their destroyed bodies on the ground.
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“Did we destroy this many of them on the way to the saferooms?” The ground was piled thick with broken bones. There was no way they had killed this many of the skeletons.
“These anomalies killed the skeletons?” Roan asked himself as he continued to run. By now the breeze had become nearly a gale that pressed against his face. Under his torn up clothes he felt the amulet on his chest grow hot enough to start burning. Roan slowed down as he fished the amulet out from under his shirt.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Roan said. The little piece of amber was glowing like a star. The heat that radiated off of it was nearly enough to scald him as he dropped it to let it sit on his chest with a few layers of cloth enough to make it bearable.
“I’m not feeling a breeze, am I?” Roan stopped and took a breath, filling his lungs with the fresh scent of the world. There was something in it though, something that he had thought it was just the wind carrying from the crypt. Rot. The rich smell of decay layered under the vibrant spring.
“Think it through. Assess your surroundings. There are no signs of anything currently moving, no dust or bones being pushed around by this wind. Your amulet of protection is reacting to something and from what I know from the description it helps process cursed life energy. I can make the guess that this breeze I’m feeling isn’t a breeze, but the life energy. That my amulet is overheating trying to do its job.” Roan felt better after saying everything outloud.
“Furthermore, what is the anomaly? All the bodies are gone, we’ve seen that skeletons are animated by the life energy and that they wore bits of these amulets to prevent that from happening. Ahhh, shit,” Roan finally said as he thought he figured out what they were going to be facing.
“Guess we’re going to have to spend the money on the amulets afterall. Knew they were here for a reason,” Roan said as he started to back track. The heady feeling of needing to move started to fade and he realized it was the constant stream of energy that was coming from somewhere further down the endless boulevard.
A bone cracked. The snap echoed down the boulevard and Roan froze as his eyes stayed locked ahead of him. The light was poor, but he could see far enough ahead to see the shambling shape that was coming toward him. It wore torn and bloodied clothes that looked similar to his own when he’d entered. The type of durable clothing that an independent would be able to buy before trying their hand at the tower.
Steel gleamed brightly from the sword in its hand. The tip of the blade wavered back and forth as the body came toward him. Roan stopped his retreat and hefted the hammer up to his shoulder as he waited for it to get closer. There was no sign of anything else around him, the halls on either side empty as the body got closer to him.
Bones continued to break as it steadily advanced. It slipped and staggered under the treacherous footing, seeming to struggle with finding its balance. Roan shoved the ground around him clear of bones, sweeping the fragments to the side until he had secured his own footing.
It had been a man once. A young man, his face still holding hints of baby fat around soft cheeks. Cheek, singular. The other one had been caved in, part of his skull crushed. Roan didn’t recognize him, but with blackened blood coating his face it could have been near anyone.
A tumor grew out of the side of his neck, pulsing with a heartbeat. Roan grimaced as he looked at the thing. It was nearly the size of the man’s head, with the angry consistency of a pustule. The skin around it was bright red and there was a deep yellow tip that leaked a steady stream of clear liquid.
It staggered and nearly fell as its foot slipped out from under it. Roan didn’t hesitate, he launched himself toward the creature and brought the warhammer around in a massive overhead swing as the zombie straightened back up. It moved its sword up to block the hammer strike, but it was too slow.
Tower steel shattered the zombie's skull and drove it to its knees. Even then the sword didn’t tumble from the creature’s grasp. It just stared up at Roan with bloodshot brown eyes, uncomprehending that its second life had just ended.
Viscera and brain matter trailed out of the wound as Roan yanked the hammer free and took a step back. No kill notification came. Anxiety started to build a chaotic swirl in his gut as he waited.
The zombie’s skull popped and righted itself. A geyser of black blood ejected from the wound and a spark of life flickered through the dead eyes as it slowly rose back to its feet.