Chapter 59

  Shellshock

  “Remmi! Remmi!”

  I’m not really paying attention to Ayre as he throws his bow to the side and beats a path across the arena to skid to his knees in front of me. My glazed eyes are instead staring at an invisible window in front of my face.

  STATUS: CRITICAL WOUND

  You have suffered a traumatic injury that has inflicted severe damage to your internal systems. These systems are now hemorrhaging and beginning to fail. This process will be represented by a percentage health point loss every second until death or until you are stabilized.

  Sufficient medical care or healing has a high chance of stabilization.

  You have a very small chance to automatically self-stabilize a subsystem every tick.

  Performing any strenuous action may worsen hemorrhaging and accelerate system failure or destabilize an already stabilized system. Strenuous action may include, but not be limited to forcing locomotion, casting, engaging in combat or attempting to self-administer medical care.

  You are advised to seek aid immediately.

  Those system failures must be impacting me physically beyond just the recurring damage, because I can barely move, and my sluggish mind can come up with only one solution:

  Productively thinking, Well, poop, as I watch my life start to tick away.

  “Remmi! Remmi!” Ayre’s still repeating my name for some reason, but then the elf slaps my face and grabs me by the chin. “Remmi, stay with me!” His eyes are wide, dilated and damp in the corners. “Tell me what I need to do!”

  With a groan, I turn, locate where my pistol fell, and shakily reach my hand out toward it.

  Ayre assumes I’m pointing him to it and immediately grabs it. “Right! The healing bullets! Oh, but that’s not what’s in it! Um …”

  He fumbles about with the pistol, turning it around in his grip and trying to remember what he’s seen me do countless times to eject the magazine. He finds the release on the left side, presses it way harder than necessary, and gives a yelp as the magazine drops out. “Should have caught that … Healing, healing …”

  “... Second pouch,” I mumble, sliding my hand toward it, “right side …”

  He all but dives into the pouch and comes up with the green-striped magazine like he’s coming up for air. “Got it!”

  He jams it into the slot and has to whack it a second time to get it to click, then brings it toward me, holding the thing in both hands, fingers already in the trigger well.

  Instinctively, I pull away as much as I can, but all I can manage to fumble my sluggish brain through is, “... Chamber … Chamber …!”

  The mumbled word confuses Ayre, who leans in closer, gun still between us. “... What was that, Remmi?”

  Screw accelerated system failure, this pretty-faced elf is about to kill me! I surge forward with a burst of reserve strength, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him face-to-face with me. “You rack that slide,” I growl with every bit of malice my dropping hit points have left me, “or so help me, I’m breaking your bow down for firewood and using it to start an elf barbecue!!!”

  My intensity leaves him momentarily stunned even as I release him and slump back again, panting from the exertion.

  He looks down at the gun and runs his hands over the slide. I can practically see him recalling the motion I did. He gives the slide a tug, then, when that doesn’t take it all the way, he regrips and gives it a firm yank. Something comes flying out of the ejection port and goes skittering to the floor.

  Korrigan hurries over and picks it up. “It’s one of her bolts! You kicked one of the bolts out!”

  Leuke looks, too. “It’s not a green one, though. Is it one of the ones she was firing at the ogre?”

  Ayre pales as he realizes what had nearly happened. “Oh, Essence, I almost launched a real one into her!”

  I can’t manage more commentary. I can already feel an extra trickle of blood from my last stunt, so I just sigh at the near-accident being avoided and lay there waiting to be put back together.

  Ayre again hefts the unfamiliar shape of the pistol up between us. “It’s just like a crossbow,” he mutters to himself in reassurance. “Just like a crossbow …”

  He levels it out, trains it on my torso … and flinches as he pulls the trigger.

  The gun goes off, kicking in his hands, and the bullet hits me in the upper right of the chest like somebody struck me with a hammer, and my body goes sprawling back into the dirt.

  Ayre just stands there like an idiot, staring down at me, but it’s Leuke who recalls me taking several shots to heal his hand.

  The Swordmaster Hero comes up next to Ayre and grabs him by the shoulders. “More! More!”

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  As bidden, Ayre fires again, and then again, then faster. The bullets cause my body to buck and flail, and I can hear the elf’s voice like a rising whine behind the gunfire. The shots are landing a little more wildly, but at this range, he can’t really miss me.

  Twenty bullets in, and the explosions stop, replaced by the repeated clicking of the empty mechanism. I can’t really see what’s going on, though, because my gaze is still trained on the ceiling, my torso feeling like I just stood in front of an army of paintballers.

  But after several long moments, that window blips out of sight. Which, I figure, either means I’m dead, or the bullets did their job. Honestly, I’m still getting mixed signals from my body on which that might be.

  I think it’s several minutes before I dare pull myself back up into a sitting position, and the sight before me is something to behold. Ayre is on his clasped knees, still holding the empty pistol, and looking as frayed as if he’d been the one to get shot.

  Leuke and Korrigan are sitting together, watching us both worriedly. When he sees me sit up, he does the silliest thing, trying to hide Ryutaiji Steel behind his back and look innocent about it. It doesn’t work, of course, and just looks ridiculous.

  I look around at all of them and scratch at my chest. “The Pirate Captain was right, those things really do sting …”

  “Remmi …” Ayre mumbles like a shellshock victim.

  “That's my name, don't wear it out …” I chuckle weakly at the elf. “Also, we need to talk about mag-dumping and when it is and is not appropriate.”

  Leuke leans forward. “You okay, Rem? I thought you’d stand up to that better …”

  “No, it’s fine,” I assure him as I shift and rub my side. “You did the tactical thing and ended the fight. It’s my fault for not taking time to teach Ayre how to use my pistol specifically for something like this. Heck, I didn’t even know critical wounds were a thing.”

  I pause, tilt my head in thought, then amend my statement. “Okay, I know intellectually that wounds like that exist, but I wasn’t aware of the status effect of Critical Wounds.”

  “I’m pretty sure we all knew what you meant,” Korrigan puts in, but glances to Ayre. “Those of us that are still here.”

  Leuke nods. “Yeah, we’re taught to recognize the signs of the status as part of our guard training, it’s a nasty one. But I figured you’d be hardy enough not to suffer it and we’d be able to patch you right up.”

  “Well, you were half right,” I answer back as I push myself to my feet with a groan. “My health points are back up and climbing, my stomach is scarless and I’m back in action.” Once I’m up, I look down and fiddle with the hole in my dress with my finger. “Gonna need to find a mending spell for this, though …”

  Leuke coughs awkwardly and looks away, red in the face.

  I ignore him for now and concentrate on Ayre. I kneel before the elf and put my hand on my chrome pistol. “Hey, you still with us, Ayre?”

  “So much noise …” he mumbles, eyes still dilated.

  I smile and put my hand on his head as I begin to channel Heal. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that healed up for you, my sensitive friend. We’ve definitely gotta get the System to put some hearing protection together for you.”

  “It’s weird,” Leuke puts in, “I didn’t think it was really loud. I mean, it was really loud, but it wasn’t, like, painful, you know?”

  “Grandpa said elves have sensitive ears,” Korrigan contributes. “That’s why they don’t like our parties. Maybe your weapon hits them just right when it’s so close?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I’ve figured,” I agree.

  Under the green aura, Ayre is starting to settle down. “Uff, the ringing is slowing …”

  I pat him on the shoulder with my other hand, then reach down and take the gun away to holster it. I’ll reload it later. Instead, I turn to the others. “So, that was a rough fight. Did we get anything from it?”

  Leuke reaches over and drags a pair of gauntlets into the middle of our messy semi-circle. “Just these. She didn’t so much drop them as they were left behind when she vanished.”

  “And how’s everyone’s health and mana?”

  Leuke raises a hand. “I’ve actually got an accelerated healing ability, so I’m pretty good and I’ll be topped off with a breather.”

  I nod. “Nice. I should consider grabbing that, too. It’d certainly help with recovery time. Korrigan?”

  “Oh, um, I recovered most of my mana from that potion you gave me.” She fidgets for a moment. “Actually, it tasted really good for a potion. I kind of want another …” She looks up quickly. “Oh, but, um, not right now! I don’t need it right now! That’d be a waste of something so valuable!”

  I can’t help but grin at her reaction. “Apple juice.”

  She freezes at that, clearly confused. “... What?”

  “It’s sweetened apple juice,” I repeat myself. “It’s not a potion. Just essence-infused sugar and apples. Just like your lunch.”

  She stares at me a moment longer as she processes that. “You have magic food?! I thought you just had some sort of amazing Cooking skill!”

  My grin gets a little self-conscious. “Well, yes, I have the Cooking skill, too, and I’m sure that helps, but Essence is the heavy-lifter.” I hold up my finger before my lips as if shushing her as I wink. “Secret Hero-only ingredient.”

  Once Ayre is sufficiently settled, I turn my attention to the gauntlets with a critical eye. I rub my chin with my other arm crossed over my abdomen.

  “Hmm, this one’s going to be tricky. I don’t think any of us are going to be able to make proper use of it at all.”

  Always curious, Korrigan leans in eagerly. “What’s it do?”

  “It’s called the Ogre’s Fists, and the gauntlets have to be worn together to get the benefit,” I explain, having already identified it. “It grants improved striking power and toughness, but it’s classified as a weapon, so you can’t use it with any other weapon to put the effect on that, instead. Honestly, it’s really hard to get any use out of if you don’t already fight hand-to-hand.”

  “... What do you do with magic items this powerful that you can’t use?”

  I just shrug. “Sell them, usually, if we don’t have anyone in mind that could use them. Ayre and I found a magic flaming sword in my first dungeon we’re holding onto as a gift for the Empress, for example, but we’ve found a lot of stuff over our dungeon tour that just isn’t of any use to us or anyone we know.”

  “... Well, actually,” she brings up with shy hesitancy, “we do know someone who could use this.”

  I move my gaze from the gauntlets to her. “Who’ve ya got in mind?”

  “... My grandpa,” she finally admits. “He fights bare-handed, and … and I’d really like to get him a gift from my first-ever dungeon run …”

  I glance to my fellow Hero. “Any objections, Leuke?”

  He shakes his head. “None here, I think it’s a great idea! Chief Ronolo will definitely like it!” He then gets an embarrassed grin and rubs the back of his head. “I just hope he doesn’t rope me into helping him break them in …”

  I glance to my friend. “Ayre?”

  He shakes his head, still a little groggy, but recovering. “I’m fine with it.”

  And back to the little oni. “There you go, it’s yours to give to your grandfather.”

  Her eyes widen. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” I confirm. “You want me to store it in my bag until we’re out of here?”

  “Yes, please!”

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