Magic Murder Cube Marine

Two days before the attack:

Zeus and Hades had decided to meet in neutral territory to discuss the situation in Brexis. In this case, a dive bar in Grumble's capital named The Fat Robin. (But everyone called it The Fat Rat.)

It had sticky floors, and tattered wanted posters nailed to the walls in lieu of art. Normally that would have been a fire hazard, but the building was too damp to burn.

“I think the time has come to clip young Francis’ wings,” said Zeus as he punted a stray rat that had dared run across his foot. The unfortunate rodent sailed through the air and collided with the metal gong behind the bar, scoring him ten points. (Nobody knew what the points were good for and the bartenders refused to explain.)

“Really?” Hades looked at his brother incredulously. He couldn't imagine what had gotten Zeus's toga in such a twist since their last meeting. “What has the idiot done this time?”

“Nothing. At least, not yet.” Zeus sat down and summoned up a golden goblet of ambrosia. He took a sip and considered his options. Trusting Hades was like trusting a snake. The only thing you could rely on him to do was try and kill you in your sleep.

“So, what's the problem?”

Zeus sighed. “The problem is, one of my holy cities is fucked if Brexis reopens.”

“Ah, got it.” Hades consulted his mental map. “Are you talking about Olympia?”

“Indeed.” Zeus confirmed. “The mines are running out, and once that happens all they will have left is the river trade routes.”

He didn't need to spell things out for Hades. Olympia was a mining town crammed between the mountains and the Dark Forest. Caravans went there to ship their goods downriver. But if Brexis opened up again, there would be no reason for them to make the detour.

The Silver River was boxed in by the Dark Forest for the first half of the journey and mountains for the rest. It was relatively safe, but until it came to the lowlands near the capital there was almost no easy access. Brexis had better roads, a tireless undead workforce, and was closer to the major cities. Once news spread that it was back open for business and lich free, merchants would flock there.

The way Hades saw it, Olympia was screwed no matter what. “Killing Francis won’t solve your problems,” he said, relishing in his brother’s discomfort.

Hades let Zeus squirm for a minute. Losing a holy city would be more than just an embarrassment to Zeus. It would leave him substantially weakened. “But if the people of Olympia were to take over Brexis to ensure the safe operation of a vital trade route, I'm sure nobody would mind.” Hades raised his clay mug of beer in mock salute. “Here's to Francis, and his demise.”

Zeus tapped his golden goblet against it and laughed. “To Francis, dead too soon.”

They laughed, paying no attention to the old graybeard in the corner. Miller sipped from the clay tankard of water, pretending it was beer. Francis was right, you really did hear interesting things while doing security work.

***

Francis burst out of the house he and Jack had been sheltering in and ran towards the nearest green cloaked figure. Something deep in his grunt brain had told him staying inside that building was a bad idea. As the Marine swung Relativity like a baseball bat and caved in the skull of the man in front of him, he became aware of why his danger sense was itching.

“Incoming!” Jack shouted as he ran past Francis, “Time to go!”

The Marine followed behind, eliminating anyone dumb enough to try and stop him instead of running. Jack hauled ass up the stairs across the road. Five seconds later, the bombs hit.

Static blew through Francis’ mind and time skipped, his body continuing forward without conscious thought. Dust jumped from cracks in the walls and the overpressure hit his back like a sledgehammer. Francis' eyes itched and his sinuses burned as he stumbled up the stairs.

Where the fuck did these guys get high explosives? And why don’t I have any? Francis wondered hazily. He would have given someone's left nut for some high explosives.

All Francis could hear was a high pitched ringing, like someone was holding tuning forks next to both of his ears. He kept moving, ignoring his growing headache and nausea. The stairs were the quickest way up the mountain and his best chance of getting to safety.

The Marine looked up as a shadow crossed in front of the sun. A hawk the size of an elephant with the wingspan of a dragon flew towards him, something black clutched in its talons. Two more followed behind it. They were three hundred meters away and closing fast.

He pointed Relativity at the closest bird and cast Dominate. “Squeeze that thing you're holding as hard as you can.” Francis commanded.

The great hawk disappeared in a cloud of grayish pink mist as the bomb in its talons detonated, taking the other two bird bombers with it in a chain of sympathetic explosions.

This time there were no buildings between them. Francis could see ripples of distortion in the air from the approaching shockwave. It kicked up dust and rubble as it went. He leaped forward and tackled Jack to the ground, putting himself between his friend and the explosion.

Would you like to add your Tier to the Resist Physical of an ally within range?

Yes/No

Francis chose yes as the shockwave hit.

***

There is nothing quite like being too close to an explosion.

Francis felt the shockwave enter his body, trying to rip the meat off his bones and scramble his brains. Every millimeter of exposed skin burned and bruises followed the seams of his clothes from the overpressure. He couldn't think, couldn't process information. Nothing made sense.

What happened? He thought as the familiar taste of blood and dirt filled his mouth. Did we get hit?

Jack rolled Francis over into a recovery position and shoved a thousand MP worth of instant healing into him. The Marine coughed and convulsed as he was pulled back from the brink of death.

“Fuck!” Francis screamed as he punched the ground, fighting through the pain and confusion. “FUCK!”

Muscle memory took over. There would be an ambush next. They needed to get up and move. But the rubble from the ruined houses was blocking the stairs in front of them.

Francis grabbed Relativity and cast Teleport, burning two thousand MP to bring him and Jack to the top of the stairs. Their shortcut between the houses had taken them to the next loop of the gently spiraling high road.

He eyed the next set of stairs across the street. They were quicker, and less exposed. But they were also steep and he didn't know how much more punishment his body could take.

The decision was made for him as two dozen men in green cloaks charged up the road towards them. Francis pointed his staff at them and cast Life Drain, funneling everything he had into the spell.

The first six men collapsed as Francis took their vitality, but the seventh failed to fall. Francis felt the tightness in his chest ease up a little and his hearing was beginning to return too. But he was tapped out for MP.

“Fucking persistent, eh?” The dust hound joked as they ran for the stairs. But Jack never reached them.

A black crossbow bolt nearly a meter long hit him between the shoulder blades and exploded out the front of his chest. Francis froze, watching in horror as Jack began to crumble into fine silver sand.

The Marine snapped out of it and ran down the road towards the approaching men. The sharpshooter had made the stairs a no-go zone. Francis did a quick visual scan as he moved, but couldn't spot the asshole with the crossbow.

The men in green cloaks had spears and rapiers. Francis had his remaining HP and a staff. This was going to suck. But it was his least worst option. It was better than getting a crossbow bolt between his shoulder blades trying to climb the stairs.

It wasn't until the first spear caught him in the leg that Francis realized how badly he had fucked up. Spears had reach, and the green cloaks could choose to reduce his Deflect by their Tier instead of attacking. They were surrounding Francis and having half their people debuff him while the others attacked.

When he tried to get in close to the spearmen the green cloaks with rapiers went to work. Francis managed to kill one with his staff, but another stepped in to fill the gap.

Finally one got a lucky shot in with a spear and stabbed him in the chest, the point of their weapon poking out his back. Francis fell to his knees as the rest of the green cloaks went in for the kill.

A gray haze settled over Francis' vision and Murder Cube appeared in the sky above him. Time slowed to a crawl and stopped. He looked up at his patron deity, knowing it wasn't really there and couldn't save him. Had it come to watch him die?

“I'm out of magic and I can't get in close enough to hit these assholes, but I'm still fighting!” He shouted at the black cube.

Francis knew that this was nothing more than a venting session before he got back up and killed as many of these assholes as he could. The spear sticking through him didn't matter. The fact he was outnumbered did not matter. His plans remained the same. Marines made do with what they had, not what they wanted.

He stood up, leaving his physical body kneeling on the ground. “So if you have something to say, say it! Because I've got killing to do! And maybe even some dying! But fuck you if you think I'm going to go out like a bitch!”

“FUCK YEAH, FRANCIS! KILL! KILL! KILL!” Murder Cube shrieked with glee as a blue box appeared.

Divine Weapon

Prerequisites: Cleric or Celestial Sorcerer

Cost: 5 Stress

Duration: 10 Minutes

Wield the power of your god in the form of a weapon. The deity chooses the form and magical properties, if any.

The weapon requires no ammunition and cannot be used by anyone except you.

Would you like to use this ability?

Yes/No

He hit yes and felt a wave of exhaustion flood over him as the Stress took its toll. He didn't know what Stress was, but it felt like a hangover and a hundred kilometer ruck march combined. Even his teeth were tired.

Time stayed frozen as he stood there, waiting for something to happen. Then Francis looked down and saw the weapon in his hands. It was a Benelli semi-automatic shotgun, glowing softly with a green necromantic aura. He cycled the action and practically groaned with pleasure as two thousand dollars worth of taxpayers' money and Italian craftsmanship came to life.

A System alert appeared in front of him.

Come on, you son of a bitch, do you want to live forever?

Yes/Yes