“Excellent!” Tekot Smul stared contentedly at the small armory. This would suit his needs perfectly. Such a small room would require minimal energy consumption of a protective dome. Not to mention, the walls were armored.
He set a point of respawn in the room and placed a small gray disk on the floor. With a squelching sound, the disk adhered itself to the steel cover. Within moments, it had merged with the surface and become invisible.
Tekot Smul had high hopes for his family artifact, Fortress for One. Early in his career, it had saved his life several times.
Here you are, my precious, he thought, remembering his father, whom he had killed to gain the artifact.
Driving away these gloomy thoughts, Tekot Smul waited until the protection was fully operational, donned his best sabotage suit, and made his way to the exit.
***
Captain Guerin watched with interest as Tekot Smul set foot on the planet. The Many-Faced seemed unhurried, graceful, and utterly dangerous.
Like a predator emerging from its lair, Guerin thought.
At first, Tekot Smul proceeded stealthily – hidden behind the rubble of a building, he studied the terrain and various approaches to the target. Soon after, however, his behavior became inexplicable. He stood up abruptly, frozen like a statue with his head thrown back, facing the harsh rainy sky.
What’s he doing? Why does he neglect his own safety? And why stand in such a grotesque pose? Guerin wrung his hands, knowing full well that failure could cost him his life. He was envisioning his own execution when the situation changed rapidly.
Tekot Smul struck rhythmically on his spacesuit’s chest-plate, transforming it into a small flat container at his belt.
“What is he doing? What?” the captain whisper-shouted, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Tekot Smul, as if he’d heard the captain's question, turned, waved congenially, and disappeared around the corner.
The pilot leaned back in his seat, ordering whoever or whatever was listening to bring him strong alcohol.
***
Tekot Smul left the small spacecraft taking all necessary precautions. He knew the exact direction to head in, and more than that, he felt the target, which was very close. His scanner showed combat, people lined up in a square, and the target in the center of it.
“Well, hello, player Phoenix. Hello, my treasure. My promotion and fame…”
What the scanner didn’t show was whose attacks the people were repelling. He calibrated more accurate scanner settings, but the opponents of the Homo-54’s couldn’t be qualified. The suit’s AI kept repeating, “Attention, Master, Homo-54’s opponents do not fall under any of the Commonwealth’s classification parameters. Attention, Master…”
Tekot Smul didn’t like this. What is it that can’t be classified?
“Shit! Have the suit’s settings gone awry?” he hissed, launching the scanning over and over again.
“Attention, Master, Homo-54’s opponents did not fall under any of the Commonwealth classification parameters. Attention, Master…”
Tekot Smul gritted his teeth. Sadly, the incomprehensibility was by no means over.
He received a system message about receiving a level-up. Then another, and another. He discerned the answer quickly.
The rain. This is the Intellectum from the Reaper!
Tekot Smul deactivated his suit, confirming his theory – there was clearly Intellectum in the rainwater. Oh, demons! This planet is a paradise for the high-level races. Tekot Smul ran forward at a moderate pace, remaining alert.
He had only gone two hundred yards when he sensed something dangerous approaching. It will take much more time to reach the goal than I expected.
Something rustled, and it came with a disgusting smell. He reacted instantly, slashing the first enemy in two, then the second, and the third. By the time Tekot Smul realized he was fighting the undead, the notion overwhelmed him. His hand trembled, and he almost went to respawn.
What an eerie, eerie world, he thought, spinning in a combat trance.
Composing himself, he cold-bloodedly chopped the skulls off all the attacking undead.
“The safest thing to do,” Tekot Smul whispered, unsheathing his sword. He looked around, seeing no more enemies. He bent to examine the undead, gasping in shock when he discovered their vile remains had disappeared. He wondered if the zombies had gone to respawn.
“I must be careful,” he said, activating the suit’s maximum protection.
Several hundred yards further on, he was again attacked by the undead. Despite a quick victory, he was surprised to find that one of his foes was a mage.
He was weak, very weak, but… Devil! This mage possessed incomprehensible spells. Lucky me, he didn’t have time to cast anything.
Demons of the underworld! Demons! What will happen here in a year? Two years? He swallowed. I need to complete my mission and get out of here before it’s too late.
Tekot Smul eased forward, walking as if through a minefield. The closer he got to his goal, the louder the noise grew of the battle somewhere ahead. He wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. He surely wouldn’t succeed in an epic victorious raid.
Concentrated, short bursts – that’s how he got to the battlefield. For a better vantage point to finally see his objective, Tekot Smul climbed the roof of the nearest building.
For a while, he watched the events transpiring below. He saw a group of about one hundred and fifty Homo-54s fearlessly confronting an army of undead.
“These Homo-54s are damn crazy!” Tekot Smul shuddered at the spectacular carnage.
He was well versed in weapons but had never seen such a perfect weapon before. The questions multiplied in an instant, but Tekot Smul the Many-Faced couldn’t answer them.
In response to his naive and cowardly thoughts, he burst out laughing, rising to his full height and screaming in a voice enhanced by magic, “Hell! This is hell! A-a-a-a! This is
