A Few Hundred Meters

The whole sprint was a mess, a horrible miscalculation, a death run.

The branch was thicker than expected. The light had a limited effect. The spawn rate was much higher than they had allegedly been, especially considering it was only a branch.

Especially, John's mind couldn't help but wonder: 'Why did the game developers allow such a catastrophic event to occur right outside a major city on the first day of pre-release? The tutorial should have just ended too.'

John's voice, on the contrary, was very calm. The most important thing right now was to buy time. "Torch again, max intensity, 20 meters high."

The drained mage raised her staff and obeyed. Another sphere of burning liquid formed from Jodie's health points, a further fifty. The bright light suppressed the skittering spawn but couldn't quite stop the wave.

"Fireball, maximum,"

"Isn't this too much?" Gram shouted between swings of his sword. Concern was apparent on his sweaty face.

Jodie, however, obliged, drawing the last of her health pool. A fiery orb consolidated from the individual blood drops. The tide seemed to freeze as the comparatively tiny Fireball sailed towards the floating Torch entity.

Jodie collapsed right after, without a word. Her eyes were blank, and a thin red liquid poured from all orifices. But it wasn't blood: there wasn't much of that left. Magic classes couldn't kill themselves through HP exhaustion, but they certainly wouldn't find the consequences pleasant.

Gram broke ranks and caught her falling body. "You did well," he whispered.

The soft airy whoomph of the fireball of the was like the crack of a starter pistol. The entire scene exploded into spontaneous action. The dazzling light erupted into the encirclement of millions of spawn, finding it's through the countless legs and pincers. Pairs of eyes exploded under the radiance - the tides of tainted beings retreated in their blind hysteria. The spawn were even more photosensitive than their fungal progenitors and the blinding illuminance created a huge bare area.

The pair scooped up the jittering mage and sprinted at best speed. At least, the flare seemed to have a more potent effect than the earlier one. At the center of the branch, the radial light burned many times more shrooms. Each one they passed had hideous black spots like burns as the fungi's shrieking grew to unbearable levels.

Jodie seemed to have put a lot into the magic because the burning light managed to exist for a full minute or two despite the intensity. The pair managed to travel another three hundred meters, weaving between the writhing shrooms, before their stamina reached the bottom.

Gram slowed to a jog after the three hundred and fiftieth meter, nearly dropping Jodie to the ground. As a warrior, he wore plate armor, weighing him down considerably. "We can't." he panted.

As a thief, John was better off but knew his limits too. No level two was expected to encounter the Surge in the first place. "We'll have to leave her. She's too heavy."

"I can't." Gram was reluctant. "But it's probably your best choice," he acknowledged between his heaves. Now, the flare had lost most of its effectiveness. They hadn't been swarmed just yet due to light scaring off the mobs and inhibiting spawn rate of the shrooms.

"Then leave her too."

"I can't."

"We need to go." John tried to keep the pace of the run, but Gram's weary legs dragged on the body they were carrying. John looked around. The light was already faint, and the army of spawn was rapidly recovering. Some had already locked onto them. "We are going to die," John asserted. "It's just a game, she won't actually be gone."

"You're right it's just a game. It's a role-playing game, it's not reality. All the more reason to."

John looked back at Gram for a moment confused. 'There's no point in this,' John thought. 'It's just senseless loss. She's gone either way.' It was illogical: there was no way Gram could save Jodie, even by staying with her. He would lose his life and levels for sure. At least by running, they had a chance.

John put the mage down. Gram carried her alone for a bit before stopping.

Then Gram did too. He stood still for a moment, wasting some valuable seconds.

"Let's go."

"Huh?" John was surprised. He had half expected Gram to stay like a lover in some classic romantic drama. He found it hard to believe the resolute stare was from the same person terrified by the tainted rabbits earlier. "Yeah, let's go. Can't be far now."

Unencumbered, their dash took them away from the majority of the mobs. In fact, the two had already left the branch, at least where the end originally was. The mushrooms had shifted to cut them off but could only manage so much distance.

Behind them, the frantic waves rushed forward.

Pyromancer Selene's health bar was at exactly one point. The unnatural red fluid coated her otherwise clean skin and golden locks. The robes were discolored from acid exposure and the staff lay dark beside her. However, with her eyes gently closed and what seemed to be a smile on her face, it felt oddly serene.

Under the dying light of her final spell, the outbreak enveloped her.

[A party member has died. They have been removed from the party.]

John noticed that as Gram ran, he never turned around.

Interestingly, tainted fungal spawn were dependant on their parents. They were ravenous and numerous but died rapidly when removed from the Surge's sustenance. Ahead, some of the armies of spawn was dying. It wasn't the detrimental effects of light exposure. Their sightless rampage had led them outside the Surge.

In the same direction, a particularly large mushroom spat out another kind of monstrosity.

[Tainted Fungal Centipede]

Level: 50

HP: ????/????

Unlike the smaller spawn, this centipede-like organism was fairly high-leveled. Its thick juicy body shook with anticipation as it breathed the tainted air. At several meters in length, this abomination was rare on branches, but at the Surge's heart, they were as common as the crustacean spawn. It twisted its articulated neck, focusing on the two players fleeing. The jaws clicked, dripping venom on the ground. Then it turned and raced north, towards the heart of the Surge.

John was running as fast as he could but still kept his eyes wide open. He noticed the mess of nature ahead but didn't stop sprinting, lest the monsters behind eat him alive.

There was a glaring flash of light, potent enough cast the skies in momentary white. This was in spite of the foggy atmosphere. A crack followed, five seconds later. It was the proper supersonic burst of a high-explosive spell, unlike the airy sound of a beginner fireball.

Such a short exposure of light wouldn't harm the Surge, but it would undoubtedly anger it. Most of the fungal horde charged angrily northwards as a dim yellow fireball appeared in the distance. Still, a large amount of the crab spawn pursued the two players.

They had left most of the mushrooms behind at this point and the ground suddenly started faded, curving ahead. "The hill, we just need to make it!" John called out, unsure if Gram was still there.

His stamina had been empty for a long time now, his virtual body driven only by adrenaline. As he pressed forward, he could feel his Achilles' tendon tear, but he couldn't be bothered. At the last fifty meters, his vision started to strain and all light the behind him faded. It was completely dark now, and he couldn't quite tell where the slope began.

His hearing was all that guided him, the sound of countless hard legs clacking behind him, telling him to keep going, and the sound of a heart pumping relentlessly, telling him to stop. His legs gave out before his lungs and he fell forward.

From his maximum sprint to a sudden trip, John's dampened senses told him he was flying and flipping. Indeed, he was airborne, and his body completed an odd sort of half twist before planting face first and rolling fiercely.

-27

-16

-21

Continuous collision procs shook John's body as he bounced down the hill. Each jolt broke a bone, an elbow, a knee, then a shoulder. He could only endure as his body crashed down the unexpectedly steep hillside.

The rollercoaster ride concluded with the vast majority of John's health missing. His body came to a rest in a ditch, thoroughly battered. The flailing wave of crab spawns washed over him like a rock on the beach. They were all dead.

The tainted night grew silent, except for the occasional shifting of shells, just like any other.

…

Gram was in a worse position than John. The plate armor was clunky and heavy. He would have gladly taken the time to remove if not for the mob chasing him. The obscure thief in the night was his only hope.

But Gram also noticed the giant centipede, and the dread bubbled up. He had wanted to call out with his parched throat, but nothing had come out. The flash in the distance was another flash of hope. Half the mob behind him peeled away, but he could only keep up the desperate speed.

John shouted something. Gram couldn't quite make out what John had said, something about a hill. He couldn't worry about it as the fungal spawn crashed into his back. For an instant, it felt like he was a part of the surging mass. He expected the sting of thousands of spawn, but only lifeless shells and legs pushed him forward like a surfer and his greatest wave.

Despite the heavy burden, the plate armor could at least protect against the little rocks that covered the slope. He bounced and rolled, and fell, and ultimately went further than John. The spawns piled up behind him, making the already harsh hill a little bit steeper.

Thus he lay for a moment, allowing his heart rate to return to normal and his burning calves to cool. He stretched his limbs and inhaled the thick air. A third of his health was gone, but at least everything seemed to be functional other than a fractured collarbone. Serious damage like broken bones couldn't be overcome by eating, only by medical attention from a healer. Gram could ignore the pain, but the weakening of his left arm could prove detrimental in combat.

"John!" Gram shouted, standing up. He stuffed biscuits into his mouth like a pig, gradually recovering his health. "John!"

He seemed completely alone. It was total blackness, but Gram would have seen himself at the center of a divide of two endless extremes: the barren tainted lands to his west and a sea of shells to his east.

…

Sound was a finicky thing. It was so easily disrupted.

At the bottom of a ditch, completely submerge by several meters of shells, the acoustic quality was poor. Immobilized, John could barely hear a shout, distorted and full of reverb.

"Over here," John tried to call, but it came out as a sputter. He was crushed under a large weight and half of his ribs were broken. He could only wait until he exited a combat state to send a party message.

"John!" Gram screamed. "Where are you?" He shouted over and over until his already dry throat went hoarse.

John: Shut your mouth, nocturnal mobs will be spawning soon.

Gram: Oh, you're alive! Did you make it out?

John: Yeah, it would have said if I died.

John had nearly referenced Jodie's earlier death. However, John stopped himself – Gram seemed particularly affected even though his rationality had clearly told him it was just a game.

Gram: So where are you?

John: I'm in this ditch over here. Under the mountain of tainted fungal spawn.

RISE's coordinate system was only accurate to the nearest square kilometer. This was to limit the effect of long-range artillery magic.

Gram: …

It took the pair ten minutes of Hot and Cold for Gram pull out the crippled thief.