Chương 42: Making Tracks

Cole turned and ran toward Howie, who was in the process of running towards Cole, lacking as he was in the close-quarters combat department. When he saw the look in Cole's eyes, he hesitated, realizing what was coming.

"No!" he shouted, just as Cole grabbed him and burned two charges on a paired Meteoric Leap. As soon as they left the ground, he dropped the drum from his weapon and slotted in a magazine, releasing the bolt and sighting down at the startled trolls. His ability let him spread the kinetic energy from the leap to his shots, so he needed to make them count. As soon as he willed the momentum into his bullets, his climb rate dropped to nil.

Without his enhancements or his shots trending toward marked targets, he doubted he'd ever hit mid-air. But with the mark, his Acuity, and his Speed, it felt like he could do no wrong. From the air, he hammered the alpha, each shot slamming its shield with many times the force of a normal bullet and finally ripping the battered metal disc out of its malformed hands entirely. His last enhanced shot went straight into the alpha's bulbous forehead, liquefying its brains.

They reached the apex of their jump, stunted by transferring energy into the rounds. But he swapped his fall speed all the way to its max and built that energy back up on the way to the ground. They slammed into the ground at the base of the rise, sending the shockwave into the back of the line of trolls harrying Roxy and Besson. One they killed outright, as it flew past them to smash into the rocky hillside. The others tumbled ass-over-teakettle, making them easy pickings for axe and sword.

Cole climbed to his feet, drawing his spear to help take care of the rest. He stabbed one through its ribs and bludgeoned another over the back with his spear haft. Just a few minutes after the deadly scuffle began, it was over. Cole checked himself over, finding several cuts he'd taken without realizing it—but nothing major enough that Roxy needed to prioritize it. Instead, he started policing the deteriorating troll bodies and their otherworld armaments.

Any and all loot and residue went into whoever's collector was handy. They'd already decided to pool and split everything as evenly as possible. When the last of the loot had been pulled out, Cole decided they'd lingered long enough. They continued north at a run, ears and eyes peeled for any sign someone had heard the clash and come to investigate. It was convenient, in a way, that monsters removed evidence of their own presence.

Bags weighted down with weapons, armor, and more, they didn't stop for miles until dawn started to filter through the trees to the west, creeping over the mountains in those few precious degrees the locals had before it disappeared again behind the perpetual caustic smog cloud over the front. Besson scouted a spot for a bivouac. A depression between three fallen trees that was relatively dry made for easy concealment.

Up went the camo netting, and underneath, they finally doffed bags and gear, breathing with the relief one only gets when stripping off assault packs and armored plate carriers after a long, sweaty ruck. Cole groaned, craning his neck. He wiped a hand across it, feeling the dry grit of dirt and salt crystals. His kingdom for a shower. Roxy and Howie each guzzled from their hydration packs, while Besson had a small rubber basin out for the once again normal sized Nutmeg.

Despite local time being just after dawn, his watch showed 0200 hours. Still four hours until the next check-in. They must have crossed at least thirty klicks of forest, and Cole pulled the aerial photo chart from his admin pouch to mark their progress. A perpendicular stream here, a pond there, and a rock formation he'd seen off their right flank an hour before gave him a good impression of their track and distance covered. The closest settlement was a village over ten kilometers off their track.

Roxy finished off her water with a gasp.

"I hate cardio," she said.

"You picked a weird career, then," said Howie. He pulled the loot from the trolls out and unbuckled the pocket with his LF analyzer. The others did the same until they had a small pile of gear from the hunter trolls. Cole chewed on a meal bar as he watched them start tapping items with the analyzers. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"What the hell kind of pistol is this?" asked Howie, holding up what looked like a broom-handle attached to a bike pump. Cole held out his hand and took the sidearm. The back of the cylindrical receiver had a knurled metal plate, and he twisted and retracted it.

"It's a Wellrod pistol," he said, shrugging and handing it back.

"Or at least the otherworld equivalent."

"What the fuck is that?" asked Howie, fiddling with the rear action.

"It's like a bolt-action pistol from WWII. Super quiet, used by like spies and resistance groups and stuff. What's the analyzer say it does?" Howie tapped it and read the report.

"Double damage increase to trolls and reduced muzzle noise. Cute. That's a huge bonus, but I think you'd damage them more by shooting them with something other than a bolt-action god-damn pistol." Chuckling, Cole picked up a pair of leather gloves.

"Probably. But if there's more of those little freaks, maybe I can melt it down and add its property to a better gun." He touched the plate of his analyzer to the gloves. < Minor troll-hide gloves of leadership —Damage done by pets and minions increases your own damage by 6%-8% for 10 seconds> He whistled for Besson's attention and tossed the gloves over.

"I don't think Howie counts for these," said Cole. Howie's attention rose again.

"Counts for what?" he asked. Besson tapped his own analyzer, reading the description and then—wonder of wonders—actually chuckled at his lame joke.

"Counts for what?" Howie repeated.

"Don't worry about it," said Cole.

"What else we got?" Roxy held her analyzer to the battered steel shield Cole had pulled off the alpha. When she saw the description, she promptly tossed her Viking shield away and took the steel round shield.

"That good, huh?" asked Cole." Not sure where that little monster got this, but it's rare. Boosts Resilience by a full point, and once per day it can restore the charge of a resilience-based ability." Explained how that little bastard kept using whatever ability let it shrug off 7. 62 from his enhanced assault rifle.

"I didn't know items could confer enhancements like that. Didn't see anything like it on Curahee."

"Curahee items weren't LF-rich enough—average quality or better, I think, carries enough innate power to boost the wielder just by having it in their possession. Check the sword it was carrying." Cole picked up the curved sword and checked it next. < Average saber of the charging hero — Damage and weight increased by 15% Increase Speed by. 5. Once per day, increase the Speed of yourself and up to 2 allies within 5 meters by 20% for 15 seconds> Explained how the little devils had charged up the hill so fast.

He handed that one over to Besson, too. Besson tapped it with the analyzer and shook his head.

"You should hold onto that one."

"You're the vanguard, though. If anyone is charging into combat with allies, it's you and Nutmeg."

"Yeah, but your ability is based on your velocity, right? Couldn't you use that sword to jump higher or further, or fall harder for a bigger shockwave when you land?" Cole took the sword back, considering the possibilities. His leap let him overcome the shield and still had enough energy at the end of the fall to splat one of the trolls against the hillside. Once per day, hitting something with a meteoric leap with another twenty percent power? That was some serious damage.

Or just using it to jump as high as possible? He could already leap approximately forty meters, since Meteoric Leap was tied to his Speed enhancement. Might let him clear sixty if he burned them both. He closed his eyes, trying to sense the sword in his hands the same way he felt his other abilities and… there, a hole where a charge ought to be. The troll had used it to charge up the hill, after all. It would be another day before it worked again. He wrapped it in his poncho and secured it to the side of his bag.

The spear suited him better since he had no idea how to actually fight with a sword, but anyone could poke something with a sharp stick. Other than that, Howie came away with a bandana that made his fire spells affect a wider area and Roxy took a box of otherworld shotgun shells. Cole used Field Strip on the Wellrod look-a-like and came away with a fire control group and a sound-suppressing pistol barrel.

He melted the trigger system into Besson's gun to increase its damage against trolls in case more came sniffing after them, but the barrel didn't look like it would fit his service pistol. He'd need to find an otherworld pistol—and not god damn revolvers like Ken got stuck with. Checking the machine gun with his analyzer revealed that the double damage had been reduced to a 6%-8% chance to deal double damage to trolls. A minor-quality proc and far less useful. He clicked his tongue.

Still, the proc rate being reduced for automatics made sense as to why he'd seen some Kickers with bolt-action rifles at the base range. Might be worth carrying one himself for niche tasks. Maybe a low-profile folding survival rifle that he could modify with otherworld parts. His secondary class really would open up a world of possibilities.