What the Shell?, page 11
Why the fuck do you keep saying Phac-level of intelligence as if it’s bad? I have 10 points in it, Dunce, 10!
Getting over his initial exasperation at the annoying blue screens, Phac considered the rest of the notification. It’s probably the Inspect thingy that happened as the humanoids—Zombies—approached. First giant crabs, then orcs, now zombies. Am I hallucinating?
“Oreg, am I hallucinating?” asked Phac, putting the rest of the notifications aside and raising his eyes to look at the orc. Oreg seemed somehow out of it, staring with his mouth half-open.
“Why are you not intimidated?” he asked back.
Phac raised a brow. “I thought you were smiling.”
Taking a step back, Oreg grabbed his chest where his heart should be, his skin seeming to turn into a paler shade of green. “Impossible,” he muttered to himself, though, given the orc’s apparent inability to whisper, Phac heard him just fine.
“So, um…” Phac added after a short silence, “sorry about that. I really thought you were trying to comfort me, for all that it matters. Now, about untying me, do you think perhaps you could get to it? I’m getting a bit uncomfortable here.”
Shaking his big head from side to side, Oreg stared at Phac before opening his eyes wide and growling in his deep voice, “Be quiet, evil spirit. Speak! Are you here to harm my people?”
“What in the ever-loving fuck are you talking about, Oreg? Did your little green brain finally fall apart?”
“I said, quiet!” growled Oreg, louder this time, bringing his face very close to Phac’s. Too close, in the human’s humble opinion.
“Okay, now, I am intimidated.” Phac stared at the orc’s sharp teeth that were almost touching his face. For the first time since waking up, having his arms tied felt dangerous. Suddenly, all the memories of the previous battle flooded Phac’s mind, reminding him just why he was unconscious to begin with.
“Oh, fuck,” was all he could mutter before leaning forward and vomiting everything his stomach contained right at Oreg’s face. Luckily for the orc, he was fast enough to dodge but not fast enough to avoid his feet becoming drenched in Phac-puke.
Oreg stared at the Juiceberry pieces and stomach fluids covering his boots in disgust. He then looked up to curse at Phac but found the human shivering, and the words caught in his throat.
“I’m fine,” said Phac without being asked, but his voice was shaky. His eyes were lowered, and his hands were grinding against the ropes that bound him.
“Take it easy.” Oreg sighed. “It happens after a battle. Take your time.”
“No need, I said I’m fine,” replied Phac, and the orc could clearly see that he was not fine. His eyes were bulging, red veins were visible, and his mouth was tightened.
“Suit yourself,” he said, staring right into Phac’s pained eyes. The human clearly needed some time to calm down, but if he didn’t want to, that wasn’t Oreg’s decision to make.
“Why is your blood blue?” he asked again. At this, Phac seemed startled, and Oreg saw his eyes dart toward the area they had been avoiding before, where the still-fresh corpses of the monsters lay on the ground. Another shiver ran through Phac, and Oreg saw his throat spasm, but he successfully held the puke back this time.
“No idea,” replied Phac, clearly trying to appear composed. To Oreg’s eyes, who had seen many warriors falter after their first true brush with death, Phac feigning calmness was laughable, but he didn’t say anything, letting the human make his own mistakes. That was the orc way. And going by what he’d seen so far, Phac wasn’t the soft sort. It was admittedly a shock to almost die for the first time, but he’d be fine given some time, with or without Oreg’s help.
“Perhaps it’s because of the blue screens,” said Phac after a few forced deep breaths.
“Can’t be,” Oreg shot him down. “Everybody has those, but we don’t have blue blood.”
Phac frowned before exclaiming, his mind seeming to recover from the earlier shock. “My Class is Crab Fighter. If I remember correctly, in the description it said something about embracing the qualities of crab-kind or something. I’m not sure. But crabs did have blue blood.”
At this, Oreg cupped his chin in thought. “I haven’t heard of a Class changing your blood color before, but then again, not much is known about Elite classes. I guess it’s possible. Have you ever bled before now?”
Phac thought back to the recent past. After waking up from fighting the crab king, the only fight he’d been in was with the corrupted boar, and he didn’t remember bleeding during that. “Not since I got the Class,” he concluded. “But there are still some blue screens I haven’t checked. Give me a minute.”
Diving back into the familiar blue screens, Phac checked the ones he had left.
Congratulations! For using the locked skill Killing Intent, it has now become available to use at will.
Warning! You have been exposed to massive amounts of Corruption. Your body is slowly succumbing to it, turning you into a Corrupted Human (Zombie), with the transition speed determined by your Constitution score. Strong healing magic can stop the transition, as can your Constitution score if it reaches above a threshold determined by the strength of the Corruption’s origin and the amount of Corruption contacted.
Until Corrupted, there will be no physical changes to your body, but there might be violent urges. The transition has just begun. Once complete, the host dies. Good luck.
Congratulations! You have reached Level 8. +2 Free Points, +1 STR, +1 CON
Congratulations! You have defeated ‘Zombie.’ Would you like to disperse the body? (x3)
Phac’s eyes froze. He remembered Oreg’s advice that corrupted animals should be killed on sight. Cold sweat ran down his back as he considered that Oreg could Inspect him at any time. No, he probably already had. Did he show up as Corrupted, or not yet? Would Oreg kill him?
How did I not think about this? I was bitten by zombies, for fuck’s sake! Calm yourself, Phac, he must not know!
Wait. Is he just playing me? Maybe he knows, that’s why I’m tied up. Maybe he suspects and is fishing for clues. Ohh, crap.
Trying to appear nonchalant, the first thing Phac did was accept the notification to disperse the disgusting bodies, letting them vanish like dust in the wind, and one more notification to pop up.
You have dispersed ‘Zombie.’ Bonus experience awarded. (x3)
Immediately allocating his 2 free points at Constitution, Phac anxiously reviewed his status screen.
Name: Phac
Race: Human
Level: 8
Class: Crab Fighter (Elite)
Status: Normal -> Corruption (~2 days left)
HP: 62/62
MP: -
STA: 15/15
Titles: Elite ®, Fateless ®, Decisive
Skills: Smash, Crab Step, Killing Intent
STR: 20
DEX: 19
CON: 31
INT: 10
WIS: 16
CHA: 13
LCK: 7
“Nope, nothing related to blue blood. But I did get a level,” he told Oreg after reading through everything.
“I noticed,” commented Oreg. “I can see your level when I Inspect you.”
Phac nodded as his heart clenched but then had a realization. Hold on, didn’t that notification say there would be no physical changes? Could it be that my blood really is blue because of the Class? Thank God Oreg seems to know almost nothing about the corruption.
“Say, Oreg,” he asked, “how much information does this Inspection give? The first time I used it, it was barely four words long, and now it’s gone up to two paragraphs.” And it keeps making fun of me, he complained inwardly.
“Maybe there just wasn’t much to say. It depends on your Intelligence—the more you have of it, the more information you receive—but I doubt your measly three points or whatever you have would make a difference.”
“I actually have ten.”
“Sure.”
Oreg seemed absent-minded. Apparently, he was still considering the blue blood thing, and Phac gave him time to think about it. If Oreg hadn’t caught on to the Corruption thing yet, chances were he never would. Phac had the sneaking suspicion that, for all his experience, his green companion wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
“I don’t see any other possibility besides your Class altering your body,” Oreg declared after a few minutes. “I haven’t heard much about Elite classes, so it’s possible, and even if you somehow tricked the World Spirit’s Inspection to hide your race, I have also never heard of any humanoid race with blue blood. If you had been Corrupted by the zombies, it would show up when Inspecting you, so it's not that either—good job avoiding the corruption after so many bites, by the way. I thought I'd have to kill you, for sure. As for the blue blood, I have no other ideas.”
“World Spirit?” Phac feigned interest at the unknown words, but internally he breathed a massive sigh of relief at knowing Oreg wasn’t on to him. Perhaps he thought you immediately became Corrupted when infected with corruption, not knowing about Phac's in-progress state. But what if it eventually appeared on Inspections?
“It’s just what we call these blue screens.” Oreg waved his big hand. “Orcs believe in the spirits of nature and our ancestors, therefore we see the blue screens as communication from the ever-present spirit of the world. Humans call it God. It’s a cultural thing.”
“I see,” Phac nodded. Perhaps calling the blue screens ‘Dunce’ hit way too close to home for blasphemy in orc culture—or any culture. He suddenly felt glad for never mentioning it as a joke and made a mental note to never refer to the blue screens as ‘Dunce’ from now on. At least, out loud.
Then again, wouldn’t I have been punished if Dunce really was a god? Phac asked himself before deciding that there was a more vital issue at hand.
“So, about these ropes…”
With a grunt, Oreg grabbed the ropes with his bare hands and ripped them apart, leaving Phac staring wide-eyed. That wasn’t some string! It was proper, strong rope! You weren’t supposed to just tear it apart!
“Were those really zombies?” asked Oreg, failing to hide a smirk at Phac’s surprised face. Good rope was hard to come by, but the human's expression was totally worth it.
“Yeah,” nodded Phac, experimentally grabbing a piece of rope with both hands and trying to pull it apart. It stretched a bit but didn’t break. Scowling, he looked back at Oreg only to see that his expression had turned grave.
“If there are zombies here,” said Oreg, the weight in his voice making Phac tense up, “then we might be facing a necromancer.”
“How bad is that?” asked Phac, looking at where the bodies used to lie.
“Very bad. Through spreading corruption, necromancers become much stronger than their level would indicate—and worst of all, they are specialized against fighting groups of enemies. A mass attack from my tribe might only end up in my people getting slaughtered and raised again to fight against their own blood.”
Phac nodded sagely. “That does sound bad.”
“I haven’t heard of any appearing on this island before…but if it’s true, we must hurry. Every second that goes by counts in their favor. We must go now,” Oreg almost shouted the last word, rushing to collect the pieces of rope from the ground.
Oh, thank God. Not you, Dunce, the other one. As if I’d believe your annoying blue ass is God. The best way he could see to fight the corruption inside him was to increase his Constitution until he reached that ‘threshold,’ wherever it was. That would also slow the progress of corruption down, so two birds with one stone.
Moreover, to increase his Constitution, he would have to fight strong enemies—a necromancer and his minions, to give a random example. The faster they got there, the better.
Of course, that assumed they wouldn't die a painful and gruesome death in the hands of the undead, but Oreg seemed confident enough. Hopefully.
Complying with the experienced orc’s haste, Phac unwrapped the bandages covering parts of his body. He’d already seen that his HP was maxed out, so the bandages were not needed. Pieces of bitter-smelling leaves fell along with the bandages, which Phac tried to put in his empty—save for a single Juiceberry—small bag.
“Don’t bother.” Oreg waved him off. “They are made of plant matter, unlike the rope. Leave them for the scavengers of the forest.”
Nodding, Phac eyed his Juiceberry and took it out to eat. These things were more satiating than they looked, with one and a half counting as a full meal to Phac’s stomach. It occurred to him that he’d never asked Oreg for their proper name—Juiceberry was just something he’d come up with himself—but now wasn’t the best time.
“Oh, right,” he exclaimed. “The woman the Zombies were carrying, what happened to her?”
“I moved her body away for the forest scavengers, too,” answered Oreg, glancing at the bone sword. “She was dead and there were no useful items on her body, unlike the zombies. You suck for dispersing them, by the way; one of them had a greatsword you could definitely use. If I knew you were that stupid, I'd have removed it beforehand.”
“Crap!” Phac recoiled, remembering that when he dispersed a body, anything that hadn’t been already removed by him also ended up disappearing. He especially lamented the greatsword that, indeed, the slowest zombie had been carrying. Now that his bone sword was cracked all over—more cracks had appeared after the last battle—he could use a replacement.
He’d asked Oreg before, of course, but the orc didn’t have any spare weapons. He only carried his greataxe, that he’d refused to give to Phac, and his bow, that Phac couldn’t use effectively anyway.
Deciding to head in the same direction the zombies had been following—it coincided with the area Oreg originally suspected—the duo set off through the forest, moving at a faster pace than before.
More and more corrupted animals appeared on the way. A few monkeys, boars, rabbits, snakes, even a deer were spotted by them, almost all killed by Phac, pushing him to Level 9. Only the deer was killed by Oreg, struck by afar with his bow.
Allocating both of his free points to Constitution, Phac looked sadly at his bone sword that teetered at the edge of collapse. It would only be good for a couple more fights…though, to be fair, this was already way more than he originally expected.
They also happened upon some non-corrupted animals, which Oreg suggested they ignore. Notably, the strongest among them was a panther that Oreg had somehow spotted hiding in the foliage, which also opted to ignore them. According to the orc—because they hadn’t approached enough to Inspect it—panthers were usually between Levels 15 and 20 but knew when to not pick a fight. Phac had taken a good scare since, if he was alone, there was a good chance he would be ambushed and swiftly made into cat food.
They also found another Juiceberry tree, where Phac happily refilled his makeshift bag since he had come to enjoy the fruit. As his local guide was happy to explain, these trees were fairly common in the forest, making the procurement of food not an issue. Having recently experienced hunger, Phac still chose to get some just in case.
He was also told that the fruit’s real name was Whitegrape, which the bone-wielding forest hobo summarily decided was in bad taste and resolved to continue calling them Juiceberries.
Having spent another uneventful night in the forest, the duo finally arrived at the edge of a swamp about a day after killing those zombies. Over the tops of the short trees inhabiting the swamp, the peak of a black tower was visible.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Phac.
“An abandoned tower,” explained Oreg, testing the soil with his hand. “It has been here since before we migrated.”
Phac rolled his eyes. “There’s an ominous abandoned tower in the middle of a swamp, right next to where people are mysteriously disappearing, and it never occurred to you to investigate.”
Oreg stared back in confusion. “What does a necromancer have to do with an abandoned tower?”
The human had to hold his tongue back. This brutish orc had no contact with the stereotypes of a fantasy world despite living in one.
“So, how do we cross?” asked Phac, motioning at the swamp stretching in front of them. It was an area of dark, wet-looking soil interspersed with short green trees and lakes of murky waters. A faint mist hung in the area, lightly obscuring the eyes of those brave enough to venture inside the foreboding swamp.
If this is a deathtrap, thought Phac, it really isn’t trying to hide. How could this not be an evil lair?
“Carefully,” replied Oreg with mirth before taking a measured step into the swamp area. “Try to avoid the quicksand,” he added behind his shoulder.
“How do I do that?”
“You just don’t step in it.”
Even though he couldn’t see the orc’s face, Phac would swear he was smirking.
Trying to suppress his disgust at stepping barefoot and almost naked in a swamp, Phac adjusted his underwear and took a testing step on a solid-looking patch of mud. Then, when nothing happened, another. Cursing both in his thoughts and aloud, Phac followed the green-skinned orc into the mists, clutching his almost-destroyed bone sword with both hands.
Status: Normal -> Corruption (~1 days left)
FOURTEEN
INFILTRATION
“Get down!” hushed Phac as he dived into a bush.
Grunting in displeasure, Oreg followed suit a bit slower, as if he wasn’t really trying. “I could just kill them,” he complained for the millionth time, making Phac’s eyebrows tremble in irritation.
Shortly after entering the swamp, Phac had come to the disturbing realization that Oreg’s methods were a bit too…straightforward. They had discussed the situation beforehand and decided that they should approach the tower as quietly as possible to scout things out and, if possible, ambush the necromancer. Yet, when they first saw a zombie wandering the muddy swamp waters, the first thing Oreg did was start hacking away at it while shouting orcish war cries at the top of his lungs.
