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Once Zarian reached a threshold for learning a new spell, the grimoire was more than eager to dump the knowledge on him.

Apparently, there were different schools of necromancy. His grimoire preferred skeletal necromancy.

Raising skeletons was reliant on both Mysticism and Wonder stats. The discipline cost more aura to animate undead without flesh, but magical skeletons were more robust and adaptable.

Zarian’s Agility stat was barely going to see any more new stats from here on. Strength might as well not exist unless he could gain points from Strength training directly.

I have to admit this is an interesting set of game-like mechanics. The System doesn’t favor generalists that much. Or maybe Zarian was the type to optimize as best he could.

This was his first time having actual power. Real, formidable, no nonsense power. He wanted to push it higher. Grow stronger. Advanced his grimoire, his dark magic, and all of his abilities.

“This is awesome,” Zarian said.

“Wally had the same attitude before you let him die,” Jack muttered while kicking around stuff in the rubbish room.

Naomi moved with surprising speed. Zarian willed for Para to stop her, but the Parasite Cloak delayed herself by a split second. That gave Naomi enough time to plant her foot on Jack’s back and push.

Jack flew all the way through the open door and tumbled across the hall. He shouted in pain and frustration, picked himself up, and ran inside with violent rage and a bright white spark in his palm.

Zarian didn’t like that spell in Jack’s hand right now, not when there weren’t monsters to kill.

The alpha skill felt like a more offensive and dangerous version of Bianca’s Searing Flash. It had a more impressive name: Star Bolt.

Unfortunately for Jack, aiming that skill at Naomi sealed his fate.

Zarian shot a blunt bolt of darkness from under Para’s cloak. The darkness there was deep because he kept it darkened. It was easier to access and shoot out on the fly.

The dark bolt landed on Jack’s arm with a sickening crunch.

The Star Bolt skill sputtered as Jack’s arm hung the wrong way at the forearm. He collapsed with a silent scream, sweat and tears running down his reddened face.

The room darkened. An oppressive force choked the air. Zarian raised from his seat with Para’s help.

The cloak spread into webs of wavering flesh and quivering bone around the entire room. Blankets of flesh formed wide lamprey mouths. Thick strands unraveled into needle-like strings, ready to sew in and out.

The leather hood covered Zarian’s head. The darkness covering his face deepened until it was impossible to see his expression. There was nothing but a black void inside his hood.

Zarian was angry. Angry like the time he bit off someone’s ear or fought his NCO for hazing. Then fought his Staff NCO for normalizing the hazing.

He snapped at Naomi first, his voice booming with a dark depth that made the air shake. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean you have to get physically violent with every asshole. Use your words first, Naomi. I expect better from you.”

Naomi took the ass-chewing with impeccable bearing. She even stood at Parade Rest for him, hands behind her back, feet spread. “Yes, sir. My bad, sir.”

“As for you.” Zarian glared down at Jack, his former high school peer. “Let Gilbert heal you. Then you can go.”

Jack gaped up at Zarian. “Why?”

“Because I do like her, and I play favorites. And you’ve been giving me too many hostile vibes for no reason. The police, I can understand, so I’m more patient with them. You … well … I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

As parasitic strands hung down from the ceiling or slithered along the ground close to everyone, Zarian’s blacked-out face lowered to Jack’s level. What he saw in that pit of darkness under Zarian’s hood put the fear of Darkrun into him.

Zarian growled. “Get healed. And go.”

“Yes, sir!” Jack squealed.

Satisfied, Zarian lifted into the air, held by Para, like a king of spiders.

He turned to the police officers, sensing some growing tension from them.

“We’ll go with him,” said Lincoln, the one with the Command skill.

The other police officers looked at him questioningly, but didn’t dare speak out against him.

Zarian recognized they were all being stupid. Maybe thirst was driving them against each other. A part of him still wanted to make up for having yanked them into this new world of danger and death.

He wanted to be kind. But there were certain people who mistook kindness for weakness. He couldn’t let that happen, or the people who truly deserved his kindness would get less of what they deserved.

And since he was the man with the biggest stick, Zarian had to stand on business, ten toes down.

Or he would look like a bitch.

“Fine then,” Zarian said deeply, knowing he was cosigning on their likely deaths. “Do you want your friend’s corpse?”

“Yes,” Lincoln grunted. “Before you turn him into a monster.”

Para dumped the corpse at the feet of the policemen. Mark had the most Strength out of the police and held up their dead friend easily. Gilbert healed Jack while shaking his head at the exchange.

Naomi remained standing at Parade Rest. And Bianca and Hannah were in the corner, staying outside of the confrontation. The strands of Para near them were soft and kind, more of a friendly deterrent instead of a threat to the innocent women.

Zarian withdrew the parasitic flesh and slid back his hood, revealing his displeasure with a scowl. He looked at Bianca and Hannah.

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“We’re staying with you, if that’s okay with you, Senor Zarian?” Bianca blurted.

Mark looked like he wanted to say something smart, but he kept his mouth shut around Zarian for once. Jack healed up and the four of them strode out with one dead man carried on a shoulder.

Not even two minutes later, Zarian heard them shouting and dying further down the hall, around the corner. He beckoned Naomi to accompany him and strode out.

***

Jack wanted to get stronger and put down Zarian himself. He had to do it. There was no if’s or but’s. Especially after all the humiliation, pain, and suffering he’d gone through.

Worst yet, all the women stayed with that lunatic! They’d chosen a dangerous, dark magic thug over people who were trained to protect and serve.

And that damn military woman caused all of this!

Jack knew that evil woman had wanted this situation to transpire exactly this way. So what if she’d gotten a slap on the wrist? She had mind controlling powers. She could manipulate Zarian and pretty much take over.

“She’d planned this,” Jack muttered to the others.

“I thought the same thing,” Lincoln said confidently, with a voice that made Jack want to listen. “But it’s more dangerous with them than on our own. They don’t like for us to get stronger. Especially that psycho whore.”

Jack shook his head, and the other men agreed or kept their thoughts to themselves. The healer kept looking back like he wanted to change his mind. Jack scowled further. Having the healer was a huge boon, and Jack refused for Zarian to have the women and the healer.

Before they could figure out their next move, they saw movement ahead.

Then Mark had his head ripped off. One of the corrupted goblins had got to him and nobody could react in time.

What were their levels? In the twenties? But how could they be so fast and so strong?

They’d beaten the goblins just earlier …

When they had Zarian protecting them.

Jack turned and sprinted as Lincoln and Gilbert tried to fight off one goblin. He heard Gilbert cry out and hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

He heard Lincoln shouting at the goblin to stop followed by the thwack of a baton on skull. Lincoln kept yelling orders empowered by his Command skill.

Jack turned the corner on a T-section when he heard Lincoln gargle like he was choking on blood. His body hit the ground somewhere back around the corner, out of sight with the other bodies.

Now there was only Jack, and he was still too far from the trash room to make it safely. How could one goblin take them down?

What was Zarian’s level and stats?

Was he really that powerful?

Jack knew he would not make it. He felt his back tense up for a killing blow from the goblin.

Then he saw Zarian strode out into the hall with Naomi, the parasitic cloak wavering around them with web-like strands, like a tattered flag in the wind.

Zarian aimed his hand at Jack.

Jack dropped to his knees to beg for mercy even though this was Zarian’s chance to remove him and have total control. Instead, a barrage of dark bolts sailed in a volley over Jack as he crumpled into the fetal position.

He looked back and saw the goblin had burst apart into a splatter of limbs, flesh, and blood. Not just one goblin suffered this horror of a dark attack, either. An entire squad of goblins was rushing down the hallway, ignoring Jack in favor of Zarian.

Other than three goblins getting turned into chunks, the rest adapted. They flowed quickly, showing their obvious investment in Agility, as they dodged around Zarian’s torrent of dark bolts.

Jack watched in horror as a few goblins used a new skill, their mouths outstretched. They vomited a congealed ball of stomach bile that flew as fast as the dark bolts.

Para’s nightmarish body closed up all her gaps and formed a thick, meaty covering in front of Zarian and Naomi. Bile shots splattered against the parasitic wall, burning and hissing.

Zarian’s attacks slowed.

The goblins were nearly upon them.

Then an entire row of dark bars shot upward from the floor. Each bar was as thick as Jack’s arm, with gaps in between.

The goblins slammed so hard into the bars, Jack thought they’d break. They held however, and Naomi took over from there.

Goblins dropped back, screeching in pain while clutching their heads. Some of them raged on the spot and thumped their own fellows.

Naomi kept using Mind Spike until most of the goblins backed off. Then the dark bars dropped, and Para ensnared the goblins.

Zarian’s soul-chained grimoire hovered by his body, glowing with a bloody red light. Then the webbing from Para glowed red as fleshy threads, strings, wires, bone slivers, and more. The crimson Parasite Cloak sliced, ripped, and chewed chunks from inside and outside of the goblins.

The cloak was the most horrifying and troublesome display of Zarian’s power for Jack. Every time the Parasite Cloak rampaged, Jack felt like he was witnessing something so evil and grotesque it belonged in one of the most diabolical sections of hell.

Some goblins used their Shadow Strength to break free of thinner threads. Naomi pacified them with Mind Spikes. She didn’t seem to flag even though she was pushing her skill a lot. Even while in danger, Jack felt envious of her having a class and new abilities that made her so much stronger.

And she was taking full advantage of Zarian’s care for her, like the favored dark warrior of a hellish king.

The evil wizard himself reformed a dark sword for Naomi. But this one was bigger, longer, and heftier. It was like a claymore.

Naomi took the dark claymore and tested how far she could raise it before touching the ceiling. Then she strode forward and executed goblins left and right.

The goblins could barely fight back while entangled, bloodied, drained of life, and getting their minds violated. And that dark claymore was probably the strongest and sharpest blade Zarian had formed yet.

Seeing that weapon was almost awe-inspiring for Jack. If only it had gone to someone else.

Naomi became a wild woman, frenzied and unforgiving. She chopped off heads, split skulls, sliced torsos in halves. She stayed in the middle of the hall, able to reach any goblin to her left and right like a death-dealing warrior. She kept cutting them down, stepping over or onto their corpses, uncaring of the guts and brain matter splashing on her. Then she reached the end of her bloody march of death.

All the goblins were dead.

Naomi threw her head back and cried out, “Ooh rah!” like a crazed, blood-thirsty Marine.

Zarian replied with a more subtle and proud, “Rah.”

And Jack got to his feet and turned away. Maybe they would accept him back if he groveled. Naomi looked like the type who enjoyed broken men kissing the ground at her feet.

Jack refused. He was sweaty. Dirty. Scuffed up. Tired. Thirsty. And hungry. He was in an alien, hellish place, far away from home.

He was receiving constant humiliation by a societal reject who had caused all of Jack’s current misery.

I must get stronger. I must pay them back for this.

Jack turned the corner and walked over the policemen’s corpses. Then he heard a wheezing gasp and noticed Gilbert, the healer, was still alive.

Gilbert was one of the most important people here. He’d fixed Jack’s arm, taking it from a snapped forearm to being straight again even though that had tired him out. Now he was self-healing.

“Help me get back to them,” Gilbert said hoarsely. “Forget pride. I’ll get in line. I’ll do anything to live.”

Something inside of Jack broke. He wondered if this was how his mother had felt when she used the searing hot clothing iron on Jack’s lower back. She’d wanted to press the demons out of him like pressing out a wrinkle.

The incident happened when he was six, just old enough to have a doctor explain that his mother needed to stay in a padded room and receive lots of prescriptions. The doctor had explained she snapped.

Jack felt a snap in Gilbert’s neck before he withdrew his hands. He watched the light fade from the healer’s eyes as tears fell down the man’s cheeks.

Then Jack got up and ran away before Zarian and Naomi turned the corner.

He kept running and running and running for a long time until he found a spare room to stop. He was lost now. He was alone.

But he wasn’t exactly out of luck. In the corner was a treasure chest, mostly wood with metal edges holding it together. It was something you would see in a fantasy game. It obviously didn’t belong here from how well-kept it looked.

Jack flipped it open and found an interesting item with a note written on luxurious paper: Blessed Mage Bracer. Enhances magic shots that scale with Wonder or Mysticism.

Jack collapsed to the floor with the shiny, white, and silver bracer hugged to his chest.

It was for this reason he placed primary attention on Wonder. It would see him through just like how his faith wanted to purge the wickedly insane from the world.

A sense of Wonder would help him solo and rise. Then he would make Naomi pay and overpower Zarian.