The Rifleman - Bk1 - Ch.11 (Patreon)

Chapter Eleven

Swamp Walker

The portal dumped him out in the exact spot he had left a few days earlier. At least the sun was up, giving him a fighting chance to orient himself and come up with a plan for the immediate future. 

The dungeon was not an experience he would have chosen to have, but he was the better for it in the end. Wesley had entered the silver portal as a lowly Tier One with seconds left to live and now exited again as a Tier Three, with the stats of a Tier Four. Oh, and a couple boosted even higher thanks to the tour-de-pain that was tempering.

Speaking of recent changes, Wes pulled off his uniform tunic momentarily and looked at his new tattoo, unsure what to expect. A quick inspection showed a small patch of hide had been tattooed there, complete with curled-up edges and a faint patterning to it. Overall, it was quite nice. His Red Cross tattoo had changed as well, growing a pale white square around it. Also, not too bad.

“I wonder if I can theme these things so I don’t end up looking like the design book at a dodgy tat parlor,” Wesley wondered aloud. 

He had never wanted tattoos, but he admired the art form. A tattoo artist had to be a bit of a jack of all trades, able to move from stylized pieces all the way up to photo-realism, all while preserving perfect line work while the canvas kept moving, and every single one was slightly different. 

Faced with the prospect of becoming covered in them himself… Wesley felt strangely okay with it. 

He decided to stop stalling and get to the problem at hand.

Somewhere out there, a timer was ticking down. When that timer hit zero, state change would rip this landscape apart and convert it into something completely different. His Claim ability might be able to help him there, or it would if anyone had told him how to use it. By far, the best choice for him was to get his Rifleman ass out of there before it all happened. His new stats were bound to help, giving him a decent chance to get clear of the place in time if only he could figure out which way to go.

Wesley had two choices: either he tried to work his way back to where Gem left him and head the same way she went, or he tried to get somewhere high enough to see the boundary of the zone himself. He wouldn’t find out how long he had to make the journey until the zone gave another of those warnings. 

He could have days, in which case option one was the safest bet, as he was sure Gem had known where she was going.

He could have hours, in which case option two gave him the best chance as he could get out in the shortest possible travel time.

The last state change of the zone had happened a few hours after sundown, so for now, he was assuming he had at least that long. Judging by the shadows cast by the trees, his only option as the fake sky did not seem to include a visible sun of any form; it was about mid-day. The shadows were short, bunched under the trees themselves as if the sun was directly overhead. 

So, Wesley looked around himself, trying to see any sign of a bit of high ground or a particularly tall tree. The landscape was not heavily covered in trees, and what he saw as it fell away from him was not inspiring. He could see the top of every tree from the raised platform on which the portal arch was sitting. 

“Not a single high spot in this entire place?” Wesley growled to himself. 

He tried looking around, walking around, and around to see if anything like a hill or mountain was visible anywhere, but to no avail. No matter where he looked, the land fell away.

“Come on,” He muttered, scanning again and again. “Show me the high point; come on!”

It would be great to say Wes realized his mistake in only a few moments, but that was far from the case. He spent almost ten minutes pacing around the platform at the top of the stairs, on top of the hill he had run up a few days before, scanning the tops of the trees and looking down on the swamp before it finally hit him.

“I’m stood on the high point, aren’t I?” Wesley Lancaster blushed as he cringed in bone-aching embarrassment. Wasting this much time looking for the very thing he was standing on was about level with looking for the clothes you were, in fact, already wearing. 

The realization that he could not see the edge of the zone from here did not, thankfully, take as long to hit him.

Looking around, he saw the archway was silent and empty. That either meant you could not run a dungeon back to back due to some kind of timer or single-use policy, or it had shut down in preparation for the zone’s state change. Crossing his fingers for option one, Wesley flicked into Were-Wisp and used the lightness to pull himself up the thin metal arch and stand on top. It had gotten him a few extra feet, but not much had changed as far as what he could see while balancing precariously on the top. 

That only left him with one way to get higher, so with every finger crossed and a hell of a deep breath, Wesley launched himself up, and into the air with every ounce of power his stats could give him.

Wesley rocketed into the empty sky, scanning the horizon for any sign of a boundary, border, or anything remotely resembling civilization. When he saw it, a yell of triumph ripped out of him, the echoey sound scaring the shit out of him until he realized it was his own voice. 

A good few miles away to his left was a glittering wall of light; beyond it, Wesley could see something that looked a little like a pine forest and dark green grass. Compared to where he was, it looked like paradise. Not too far from him, a wide, flat road wound through the swampland and met a road through the new area. Setting it as his target and feeling very good about his chances, Wesley glanced down to the ground.

There are many ways to discover that you have a fear of heights. Truth be told, Wesley had never really had much experience with them aside from the usual elevators and airplanes—nothing to ever really pay attention to.

It turned out that hanging briefly a good half mile above the surface of an alien-designed game world before beginning to fall was a very different experience. Wes cast Improved Flare and felt his fall slow to a crawl as he began to glow softly. It was only then that he realized he had not, in fact, been plummeting toward the ground in any way. Now, instead of a calm and reasonable descent, Wesley Lancaster got to spend almost ten minutes drifting toward the ground like a forgotten balloon as the state change ticked closer and closer.

The fact that he was going to land in the middle of a large-ish pool of black water was not even a shock; it was just how this world treated its guests. 

“This world,” Wesley intoned as his feet dropped the last few inches, “Was designed by a Todd!”

Wes’s feet touched the water, and he was surprised to feel it hold his weight. He frowned, then grinned as he took a single step, gliding across the surface slightly, thanks to his currently wispy nature. 

“Well, well, well,” Wesley Lancaster grinned shamelessly as he skated rapidly to the edge of the pool of water and kicked off from the edge, sailing through the air and toward a large toadstool. Another kick, this time to the black and slimy surface of the toadstool, and he accelerated away toward the road he had seen in the distance. 

With bounding steps that seemed to carry him further than they had any right to, Wesley made his way through the marshes and bogs without a single drop of it touching him. Compared to his wet and miserable experience the first time, this was night and day. He saw a few startled shapes blur past as he moved, and his echoey laugh rang through the swamp all the way to the roadway. 

The road itself was made of half-rotted tree trunks with moss growing between them. There was also the occasional cluster of red and white mushrooms that looked like a one-way trip to the hospital if you decided to eat them. Dark grey stones poking out of the edges, and he was sure the markings on them meant something—if only anyone had ever bothered to tell him anything!

The good news was that the zone boundary’s shimmering wall was faintly visible a couple of miles or so off to his left.

The bad news was that he could hear the sounds of fighting and shouts distantly from his right.

With one last longing look toward the zone boundary, Wesley deactivated his wisp form and started to run along the roadway toward the sounds of fighting.

Reload provided him a fresh clip, and the weakness from using Were-wisp was already fading.

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Approaching a battle is always dangerous, even more so if you don’t know what you are running into. This fact was brought home to Wesley Lancaster as an arrow buzzed past his ear at a speed his rifle would find it a challenge to match. A world of stats and magic changed things, like the superiority of firearms.

“Shit! Watch it!” Wes dodged aside just in time to avoid the next attack, rolling across the roadway as he got a look at a battered wagon rumbling up the road, pulled by what might have been scaled oxen for all he knew. The canvas-like covering was torn and marred by stains, but it was apparently strong enough to support the grim-faced archer as she lowered her bow and watched him through narrowed eyes. 

“Friend! Friendly!” Wesley said, holding his hands in the air.

She seemed to consider shooting him anyway but nodded and turned and started to fire back the way they had come. 

Taking that as permission to approach, Wesley finally got a look past the large wagon. It was not great news. A mix of shuffling creatures was attacking a line of assorted warriors and what looked like civilians as they continued to fall back. A sword and board warrior was straining against his shield as a small cluster of undead pushed him slowly but surely back. He couldn’t tell what exactly they were. Some kind of zombie, for sure, but not the kind he encountered in the dungeon.

A large, flickering wall of blue was projected in front of the shield the warrior held, managing to hold everything back in one go. It was a handy skill, but one look at the warrior’s strained face, as it ran with sweat, told him it was not a long-term solution. To make matters worse, there were several swamp creatures mixed in with the mob. He saw a couple of tongues striking the shield, and he was sure there were several large snakes… at least, Wes hoped it was several. If all that was one creature… yikes.

A ragtag group was trying to reform behind the shield bearer, mostly holding sticks, hammers, and knives. Only one of them wore armor. A man in leathers was clutching one arm while trying to reload a crossbow with the other. 

In short, they were in rough shape. At least half had open wounds, and the only healer he could see was a harried-looking teenage girl in a rough white outfit that looked like it belonged in a dojo. A pale pink energy was flowing from her hands as she wove patterns in the air, but it was nowhere near enough.

A snarling sound from nearby showed a pack of those thin, clawed creatures that reminded him of vampires tracking the group. The light was keeping them at bay for now, but the sunset was creeping closer with every tick of the clock, and more and more creatures were being drawn to the sounds of battle.

Looking around him, Wesley located a massive mushroom with a large, flat cap that looked pretty sturdy as it hung over the road ahead of the cart. It would make a perfect firing position.

“First things first,” Wesley reminded himself, firing a Healing Flare to drop over the group as he turned and ran for the mushroom. A quick jump in wisp form got him most of the way there, and he easily pulled himself up the uneven surface before turning back and kneeling down to take aim as he released the wisp form. 

The mushroom settled a little, but nothing too bad. 

The red light from his spell was just drifting low enough for them to feel the effect as the first Improved Flare-powered bullet slammed into a zombie-type creature loping along at the back of the group. It hissed and fell, scrabbling at itself before bursting into flames. The next two shots were standard, but he could see the difference in the power of his M1 already. A toad lost half its head to the first bullet before the second tore it to ribbons. 

Wes grinned as he leveled his rifle at the first snake, sending it flying back from the impact. It seemed the things weren’t that high Tier after all. The tyranny of stats and all that. By the time he used Reload, the red light was right in the middle of the group, and boy, could he tell. There were delighted yells as healing blanketed the area, and the leading zombies began to burst into flames or, in one case, melt. He shot the next Healing Flare directly into the group, seeing it hit a wet-looking zombie in the chest a split second before it exploded like a firework. 

With the numbers thinning a little, the archer and others started to get their own kills in as the warrior collapsed and was dragged back to the cart by a middle-aged couple.

Wesley took the opportunity to drop from the mushroom, activating Were-wisp. Just as he hit the ground, he saw the things in the shadows still tracking the cart, and before anyone had time to notice what he was doing, Wes activated Flare and shot himself into the middle of the mobs. His glowing form was easily able to disperse the group as everyone he touched burst into flame. The survivors fled into the nearby bog, digging frantically to get underground before the fire consumed them totally. 

Wes dropped wisp form again and trotted back to the road, emerging just as the cart passed him and taking a spot at the rear, using the M1 to keep the road behind them clear.

The archer tapped him on the shoulder and pointed back toward the cart, and Wes nodded. It had quickly become clear that they did not speak the same language, which was weird since he had learned what the system called ‘Standard.’

It was, he had assumed, the common language everyone knew, but there was bugger all he could do about it as they didn’t seem to have anything like a primer for him to read.

As such, they were reduced to miming anything they wanted to say to each other as the cart made its slow way toward the zone’s border. He guessed they had about another half hour before night fell, but there was no sign of those vampire things returning as yet.

The back of the cart was serving as a makeshift hospital for the occupants. The monk girl spent all her time in there, hands moving in an endless dance as she tried to heal everyone at once. It seemed like a losing battle to him, but who was he to judge? The last hour or so had given him time to recharge his Emergency Heal, and he went straight to work.

Just like last time, his first stop was the kids. A pair of twins lay at the front of the cart and had been in very bad shape. The boy was sitting up now, holding his sister’s hand as she slept. For some reason, the monk’s healing seemed to ignore their fever, so it had been his job to heal them. Wesley placed his hand on the blond curls of both twins in turn, starting with the girl and casting Emergency Heal before moving to the woman with dark hair. She had been torn open by one of the Zombies just before he arrived. He suspected she was important to the archer who had nearly killed him when he arrived, considering the hug he got when his first heal had closed the wounds. That had only been the start, of course. Having your guts torn open was a nasty business, and infection would often get you if the wound didn’t. He was just glad his spell treated severe infections as life-saving and prioritized the energy accordingly. 

Emergency Heal made her belly glow for a moment and then spread out into the rest of her body. Her breathing settled a little, and her skin noticeably cooled to the touch. It seemed his patients would all live.

The warrior waved him over when he dropped out of the wagon and handed him a hunk of bread and cheese to eat. After days without food, Wes was delighted to accept. Even stale bread tasted wonderful at this point. He was assuming it was stale, given how tough it was to chew, but it might just be that way. Wesley had dim memories of some woman he dated being into ‘traditional baking,’ and a lot of her stuff was worse than this, even fresh from the oven. All in all, Wes knew it was a meal he would file away with the hyena steaks and remember for a long time. When food was scarce, it was much more noteworthy when you actually got some. 

After nodding and smiling his thanks to the warrior, Wesley trotted back to the archer and nodded to her. She stared at him, so he pointed to the wagon, pointed to his stomach, pointed to the wagon again, and then gave a thumbs up with a smile. She frowned at him, so he did it again, and she finally smiled. 

Watching the archer smile was like watching the sun emerge from behind clouds. Her grim face blossomed into one of complete and total joy. 

A brief mimed argument followed, and he insisted she go and see the woman while he took her spot on rear guard. 

He won, of course. The woman was dedicated to her job and all, but she wasn’t stupid enough to insist on something she did not, in fact, want to do anyway.

Wesley didn’t mind. The stat boosts from his recent Tier upgrades meant needing much less sleep, and walking along the road was pleasant enough.

So that is what he did.

He walked at the rear of the cart as they passed the rest of the zone by, and a couple of hours after sundown, the glittering barrier came and went. The cool, pine-scented air made him smile the moment he passed through the barrier. Taking long, deep breaths as he walked was as good as a cold shower, shaking any tiredness from him as he stared around at the close-packed pines and short, dark grass that was broken by the occasional pale grey stone. It reminded him of the kind of thing he saw in pictures from Norway. It was a place he had always wanted to visit, and while it was a shock to think that would probably never happen now, Wes couldn’t help but feel happy.

Back home, he would have been doing nothing much that day, maybe acting, but more likely rehearsing while waiting to get a drink and hopefully getting laid at the end of the day. Here?

Here, Wes had run to the rescue of people in trouble. His rifle had saved people today as much, if not more than his healing spells did. He had helped save a pair of cute kids and made a woman smile as her worries eased. A warrior had been willing to die to save his people, and Wesley got to come to his rescue and share the burden of protecting others. 

Just for a moment, Wesley saw others in uniform marching along next to him, ghostly memories of the men he had signed up to pretend to be. He hadn’t pretended today.

Today, he hadn’t been an actor.

Today, he had run through danger to heal others.

Today, he had used his rifle to protect those beside him.

Today, he kept watch so others could rest. 

Today, he had been a Rifleman.