Chapter 18 — Desperation

  The Occultarium was a set of occult forums that exploded in popularity after the first monster sightings more than a decade ago, for obvious reasons. It was now the largest non-mainstream community on the internet. It was ‘non-mainstream mainstream’, so to speak, a paradox that fit quite well with the overall vibe of the forums.

  He didn’t use it all that much because of its reputation for being the home of unironic demon worshippers, conspiracy theorists, and all sorts of other weirdos, especially on its more fringe threads, but it had a strict policy against any form of content suppression. You could say anything there without getting questioned or reported. Anything.

  Maybe they’d be more receptive to his theory. He opened up the front page with a tap of his thumb, which opened to a scrolling feed with a dark background.

  "I tried summoning a lesser demon last night using the blood of my pet hamster but it didn’t seem to work. Did I do something wrong?"

  "Ever notice how some monsters have red eyes? That’s because they signed a fiend contract. Fiend assimilation is the next step in human evolution, mark my words. If we don’t begin human-fiend experimentation soon, we’re slowing down our inevitable evolution."

  “Why is everyone freaking out about outbreaks? We should be celebrating them. They’re signs of being accepted by the elder gods!!! Almach torida!”

  William sighed. He didn’t know what else he expected, but reading some of the comments on the occult forums actually made his head hurt. Whatever. Not everyone on the forum was an idiot, he knew that for sure, given how fast the forum solved the cutter killer case two years ago...the forums beat the police and detective force by two weeks. The same happened with the mysterious monster sighting a year ago. The occult figured out that it was a horned bear nearly a month before the police came out with the official report. There were many niche subject experts on the occult forums.

  Hopefully someone who wasn’t an idiot would see his comment. He typed up the same message as before, then hit send on the Occultarium forums, not really knowing what he expected. It felt like sending out a message in a bottle into the ocean.

  The car bumped up and down, making William feel a bit nauseous. They had gone onto the intercity highway, which stood above the city majestically, offering quite the scenic view of skyscrapers and the sprawling urban landscape below. Signs of damage and reconstruction efforts could be seen throughout the city. Judging by the concentration of cranes near the west, that must have been where the outbreak gate originated.

  How quickly things changed. Just a week ago, outbreaks were almost entirely under control, with at most a dozen deaths a month. Then, in the blink of an eye, that number turned into thousands. Thousands of people, all with their own families and loved ones, dead. He didn’t need to turn on the news to know that among those dead were children, even babies. Nobody was spared. With the appearance of what the news headlines seemed to be calling interference gates, nowhere felt safe anymore.

  Feeling the nausea settle a bit, he pulled his phone out again and called Naver to speak with him about arranging a dungeon raid. With only two months of his service, he planned to visit a dungeon every single day, maybe even twice a day if he could manage it.

  His navigator picked up almost immediately. “Hello. I presume you’re on your way to the training site, Mr. Blackwood?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I’ve heard from my colleagues that there are other Trinity Academy students who are not as… cooperative.”

  William let out a low laugh. “Sounds like them alright. Anyway, let me get to the point. I want to start getting combat experience as soon as possible. Can you send me a list of dungeon raid parties available for this afternoon?”

  “I already entered your profile into the Awakener Bureau matching services queue. We haven’t gotten any immediate matches, since your ranking is low and you lack experience, but I expect that we’ll find a suitable match within three days if I reach out to some independent parties.”

  William cursed under his breath. Even with a dungeon broker on his side, it would take three days? There was no way in hell that he’d accept idling for three days straight as everyone else grew stronger. He needed to go to the other side. Even the air in dungeons carried otherworld energy in it, necessary for growth.

  “I have to find something, Naver. Anything. For this afternoon.”

  “I will try, but most of the low rank dungeons are already fully booked, Mr. Blackwood, including the high fee ones. It’s due to the influx of draftees.”

  “Shit. What about a porter job then, for a higher rank dungeon? There’s always plenty of those available, right?”

  Naver did not respond immediately. After a moment, he replied in a strained voice. “Although I can certainly arrange for a porter position to a mid-rank gate, I can’t advise that in good conscience, Mr. Blackwood.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too dangerous. There is a reason that those positions are vacant. Please reconsider.”

  William shook his head, frustrated. “Dangerous… so is going on a raid party for even the shittiest dungeon. So is just living in the human world, since an outbreak could happen at any time right behind your back if you’re unlucky.”

  As he spoke, he felt himself grow angrier, more heated. “A monster almost killed me last week, Naver, and I was supposed to be in the safest place in the world! I don’t care if it’s dangerous—what difference does it make? I should already be dead!”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The driver looked back through the rear mirror at him with a concerned look, but he didn’t care. So much frustration had been building up in his chest under his calm exterior. He barely survived a monster attack—twice! And yet nobody would believe him, Ghoulstein wanted to expel him and throw him into jail for even mentioning it, the strong ability he awakened seemed to have simply vanished into thin air, and now this? At this rate he wouldn’t even reach rank two before the end of the two month period!

  Did the world just want him to roll and keel over whenever commanded? He was sick of it all, of being completely unable to control his own path in life. To hell with safety! He needed power, and he needed it now. Rather than die pathetically due to some random shit stroke of luck, which he seemed to be running into far too often these days, he’d rather face death head on in the dungeons. At least that would be his own choice.

  A long silence followed after William’s outburst, before Naver Frost’s professional voice came back through the phone. “Mr. Blackwood, let me speak to you frankly.” His tone was solemn. “Firstly, as for the monster issue, I reviewed your police file. It’s best if we speak offline regarding that matter, in private.”

  “That aside…”

  A long sigh came from the other side of the call. “You are the third client that I’ve advised thus far Mr. Blackwood. My previous client was… quite eager and hard working, just like you, a talented level two mage who managed to grow to level four after just a year. She was warm-hearted and kind as well.”

  Naver’s voice sounded constricted. “She died on a porter job in a high rank dungeon. Eaten by a Wendigo. She had a bright future, William, and all they could drag back out of the gate was her ribcage. You can’t imagine how I felt, waiting for her to return, only to see what remained of her corpse dragged between a wet blanket—I felt so guilty. It was my idea for her to take that mission.”

  William waited respectfully in silence for Naver to continue.

  “As for my first client… he was a reckless man. He died on his first mission, also a porter job to a mid rank dungeon. They never said how it happened.”

  “And now you are asking that I sign you up for a porter position. Forgive me for the superstition, but perhaps you will reconsider?”

  “Mr. Frost,” said William in a calmer tone. “I’m sorry. Even so, I can’t change my mind. Please, just get me a porter job for this afternoon. I can’t be sitting around. I’d rather die than idle.”

  He swallowed. “But I promise you that I’ll survive, Mr. Frost. Trust me—I’m not so easy to kill. Just get me in.”

  A heavy sigh came from the other end. “Very well. I’ll talk to Horast. He still owes me for Annabelle. I can call in a favor, one last favor—that he will take care of you.” His voice was deflated, but sincere.

  “Thank you, Naver.”

  “Let me make this clear. Taking on and protecting a level one total newbie is a huge favor to ask of any awakener. This is a favor that I cannot ask lightly, especially of a good man like Horast.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll make the call now. Keep your promise.” And on that final note, Naver ended the call.

  It seemed like Naver was also haunted by demons of the past. Annabelle… William was starting to regret his outburst. He was not the only one in the world dealing with death—the death of Annabelle seemed to have hit Naver especially hard. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the guilt, seeing his own advisee reduced to a pile of picked apart ribs…

  The driver interrupted his thoughts with a gruff comment. “We’re almost there. Another five minutes.”

  William nodded, looking out the window pensively. They were now passing through the outer districts of the city, where the skyscrapers gave way to warehouses and industrial complexes. This part of town was less polished, more utilitarian. The streets were lined with old industrial waste and equipment, as well as old damage from monster attacks that were never patched up, and the air carried a faint metallic tang. It was a stark contrast to the city center they had just left, which had been kept in pristine condition up until the latest outbreak.

  Finally, the car pulled up to a large warehouse and outdoors storage yard with a faded sign reading “District 17 Industrial Warehouse.” William took a deep breath, shelving his concerns for later.

  Another, newer sign hoisted next to the original faded one read “District 17 Training Area.” Uniformed soldiers milled about outside the perimeter of the training as William opened the door.

  “You’re late,” said a sergeant in ordinary military uniform, approaching him as he stepped out of the car. “Name?”

  “William Blackwood.”

  “That’s sir, to you. You damn kids treat this like some kind of picnic…” the sergeant growled. “If the top brass gave me authority to discipline you all, I’d whip you into shape. But they seem to think that you kids are too good to get treated as ordinary soldiers, huh?”

  The sergeant glanced down at the rank one badge on his uniform. “Well, maybe not you,” he smirked. He took out a scanner. “License,” he demanded.

  William took out his newly minted awakener’s license and had it scanned.

  “Go on through to training group five.”

  William nodded stiffly, tucking his awakener’s license back into his pocket as the sergeant gestured toward the east end of the training area. Numbered signs had been erected at each part of the training area. So far he could see groups 1-3.

  His boots crunched as he walked across the gravel-strewn lot. The air smelled faintly of oil and rust, a sign that the place had once been an industrial storage area before being repurposed for training. To his left, empty oil barrels and stacks of wooden and metal crates formed makeshift targets, some of the crates marked with faded hazard symbols indicating they might have once held explosive materials or toxic chemicals. Now, they served as obstacles for drills, their surfaces scarred from repeated impacts during combat exercises.

  He spotted a few other Trinity Academy students within groups 1-3, training alongside students from other universities as well as non-university members from the same age cohort, like several rugged youths who appeared to be construction workers, and a thin acne-covered youth with glasses who seemed to be a stay-at-home son. It was particularly easy to spot Trinity Academy students, as many of them seemed to have a grim expression being forced to undergo training as a common soldier.

  Although, now that he mentioned it, the atmosphere was nothing like recruit training in the movies, with a drill sergeant walking around shouting and scaring recruits straight. The instructors appeared to be made of experienced awakeners, some guild affiliated, others independent. Judging by the shiny artifacts and expensive looking weapons the instructors had on, they had a large amount of combat experience.

  He passed by a gun range where a group of recruiters were being taught how to operate and aim a rifle—without any ammunition. Probably related to the supply chain shortages. A few empty ammunition crates with the Pain Corporation logo of three inverted triangles sat nearby.

  If the military couldn’t even spare ammunition to train recruits, the situation was much worse than he thought.

  William suddenly stopped, sensing something approaching, and just in time as a sharp projectile flew past his face. The projectile crashed into the fence, shattering into little stone pieces.

  “Oops,” called out a snobby Trinity Academy student with a smirk, the source of the projectile. He was one of the elites that followed Luke Brightsteel around like a dog, and now this dog looked like it had found its bite.