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chapter 22

  My grip tightens around the metal bench leg. The wendigo lets out a bleating hiss before once again trying to run off into the vents. I intercept it and swing the bench leg like a baseball bat at where I think its head is. I hit it, and a crack echoes through the air.

  I feel its clawed hand wrap around my unbandaged arm and yank me away from the vents. I stumble and fall as the wendigo throws me off balance. As I lay there, it crawls back into the vents.

  Now that it's gone, I try to rub the dust out of my eyes. It doesn't really work, so I stumble into the food court to find something to rinse my eyes with. As I look and feel around, I find a fridge. I open it and feel inside for a bottle of water. I grab a bottle, open it, and—just to be sure—pour some into my mouth. It’s good that I did, as it turns out to be iced tea, not water.

  I feel around in the fridge again, pushing aside bottles that don't feel right until I find one that does. This time, when I pour some into my mouth, it is water. I promptly begin rinsing my eyes. As the dust washes away, my vision returns to normal.

  I find my revolver and bow and make my way to the next floor. Carefully, I ascend the stairs, searching for the monster. Upon entering the next floor, I hear it moving in the ventilation, but it's going too fast for me to pinpoint its exact location. If it won’t come out, I’ll force it.

  I pull the fire alarm. Immediately, alarms begin blaring throughout the building. Then, with the bench leg in hand, I smash the fire sprinklers near the floor vents. Lastly, I rip up some carpet and smash the lighting. There, I meet a small problem—LED lights won’t cut it. I rip them out, revealing the cables behind them, and use those to ignite the carpet I tore up. It doesn’t burn well, but the artificial fibers produce a lot of smoke.

  I start smashing in the ceiling vents and stuffing the burning carpet inside. But now there's a problem I should have anticipated. After a while, the sprinklers stop spraying as the water tank runs dry. This causes the burning carpet in the vents to catch the cheap ceiling panels on fire. Before I know it, the entire floor is ablaze.

  I can't stay here—I have to go down. Right now, I’m on the eighteenth floor. I head to the elevator and press the button to go to the basement. Before the doors close, I step out and take the stairs instead. If the elevator survives the trip down, it will survive going up one floor with the trolley on it.

  I rush down the stairs as fast as I can. The fire alarm is deafening—but that's what I want. I need it to drown out the noise I make. When I reach the basement, I push the trolley into the elevator and use the bench leg to pry open the panel. Looking up into the elevator shaft, I see that the fire has reached the elevator I took up, though it hasn't spread to the highest floors yet. It’s terrifying how fast the fire spread.

  I push the button to go up to the ground floor and take the stairs. If I lose the trolley when the elevator falls, so be it. But I’m playing it safe. The smoke in the basement is becoming so thick that it’s hard to breathe. I hurry back to the ground floor and pull the trolley out.

  The moment I push the trolley out of the elevator, I get yanked back in. The wendigo had come through the open panel. It slams me against the back wall, shattering the large mirror.

  For the first time, I see all the damage I’ve done to it. A hole in its neck from my arrow. Three holes in its chest. A missing antler from my revolver. A broken jaw from where I hit it with the bench leg. Burnt flesh covering its body. It wheezes from all the smoke in the vents.

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  I smile a little. Even if this is my last day, that fucker won’t forget me.

  It rushes at me. I hold the monster off with my unbandaged arm as it tries to bite my head off. I try to think of a way out, but every time its jaws snap shut—less than an inch from my face—I lose focus.

  The elevator drops a foot as one cable snaps. That gives me an idea.

  Using my bandaged arm, I deliver a powered strike to its face. It staggers back, letting me escape. As I do, I grab its antler and, with all the adrenaline-fueled strength I have, pull it back. I jump out of the elevator and hold the wendigo’s head outside.

  With my revolver’s last two bullets, I shoot its arm as it claws at me. The two shots leave the limb nearly useless.

  Then, I hear something break in the elevator shaft. The elevator drops a couple of inches—but not enough. I’m about to let go and run when I notice the cables losing tension.

  A loud clang echoes from above. Before I can react, the several-thousand-pound elevator motor crashes down onto the elevator with a deafening impact.

  When I open my eyes, I’m holding the decapitated head of the wendigo.

  Without thinking, I grab the trolley and rush out of the smoke-filled building. I keep moving until I'm far enough away from the smoke spilling into the corridors. Then, I slump against the floor, exhausted.

  That’s when I remember something.

  Lifting my arm, I see that I’m still holding the wendigo’s severed head. I drop it and wipe my hands on my pants.

  When the adrenaline wears off, my bandaged arm burns in pain—like something is carving into it again. When it stops, I take the bandage off. What used to be a rabbit’s skull tattoo now resembles the wendigo’s skull—with its broken antler and shattered jaw.

  I don’t know what to think. So I use my Identify skill.

  I let out a relieved sigh. So, it’s dead. I won.

  The moment I swipe the notification away, my status screen opens.

  I use Identify on my new abilities.

  I study my new abilities while bandaging my arm. They’re useful, but I’ll test them later—back at the bunker. Overload is my first skill that costs mana. It doesn’t use much, but then again, I don’t have much.

  I’ll figure it out later.

  For now, I click Yes to summon my base.

  Hello,

  


      
  • Abilities are passive—they're always active.


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  • Skills are active—they need to be triggered.


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