Chapter Fifty-Nine – Lich – Part One

Relinquish unto me thy life and all thy mortal concerns and be rewarded with bounty beyond the veil, for I am a God over death itself. Those who walk my path shall not fear the end, for I shall make them endless. Arise and become a warrior of death itself.

- Inscription at Azeroc's Temple of the Undying Flame -

"I am ordering you to not forfeit the quest," Fisban says, trying to prop herself up, but her legs still aren't working.

"I've fought a Wyvern, and from what I've read, they're not shit compared to a dragon. Red wants us here so that Mira can kill us all."

Gilroy stands, walking over, putting his hand on my shoulder, he motions for me to follow him outside the cave.

"We don't have time for…"

"Specialist Novak, talk to me outside, that's an order," Gilroy says.

I flinch at the command, years in service to the UWO pulling my legs to follow him outside. The timer in my vision shows we still have ten minutes. Gilroy takes his time stretching his back, moving his arms side to side.

"That's better, it's so cramped in there," he says, staring up toward the eye of the storm, his shaggy out-of-regulation hair blowing in the wind, "Do you know why I decided to help you?"

"Sergeant, this isn't really the time."

"Relax, we're alive, and in this line of work," he sighs, "You never know when your ticket is getting punched."

"Relax? We could be dragon food at any second."

"Yeah, but this second we're not."

I blink at him.

"This trip has been hell, but it helped me get past some things."

"Okay?"

"You never asked why I was always a hard ass, why I decided to help you and not report you."

"I don't understand what this has to do with the mission."

"New York City, December 2042, just a few days before Christmas."

The words that I was about to speak fall from me, his words pull at the memories buried near the bottom of the bottle. That's when…

"Three Battalions consisting of Twelve Companies gave their lives that day, in pursuit of the defense of millions of civilians. Turning the tide against the endless hordes. It's where the phrase we all say comes from. Carry the torch."

My jaw clenches.

"Colonel Novak defied high command and did not run… he did not abandon… nor did the soldiers under his command. They stood tall, they carried the fucking torch," Gilroy says, his jaw moving side to side as he blinks back old emotions.

The bottle inside me begins to crack. Not here… not now. I swallow it back down.

"I was just a punk kid back then," he says, shaking his head, "But I remember when I saw him, standing at the front of a formation of thousands of soldiers. Cutting through the horde that had taken my entire block."

I didn't know he knew my father. Most people don't, he was never awarded for what he did. The credit was taken by the person who told him to abandon the city. My teeth grind thinking about it.

"When I came of age I enlisted. I heard from another survivor that Colonel Novak's son had joined the UWO. Long story short I convinced an old friend to pull some strings and put me in your squad."

His head hangs low.

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"I'll admit, at first I had the best intentions, I was going to make sure you turned into someone befitting your father's name. Seeing you in action though, you didn't need me, you're your father's son."

He smiles, looking at the sky again, tears rolling down his face.

"I've been a hard ass because I hoped it would motivate you to become an officer."

"Why?" I ask.

"I never got the chance to salute your father," looking down, his voice cracking, "I wanted to at least be able to salute his son."

For a long time, I despised him, talked shit about him with the boys, and yet all this time... Tears roll down my face despite my attempt to hold them in.

"Your dad was one hell of a guy."

"I know," I say, choking back the tears.

Gilroy lets out a loud pressured burst of air, wiping the tears and straightening himself. He looks me dead in the eyes before he speaks.

"You didn't choose this path, but you're on it, and I'm with you until the end," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder firmly, "We owe it to those we lost on this mission to try and complete it. Even if we might die, we should endure… we should carry the torch."

Fuck.

"Fisban's likely thinking the same, she killed a lot of people to make sure your path was clear. Despite how proficient she is at killing, she's not a psychopath, I caught her crying the night after, sitting in a pile of her own vomit."

My jaw tightens, the memories of those we have lost playing across my mind. The ones who will never hold their children again. It's not just bad memories that I carry, it's also their hopes and dreams. Most of them dreamed of a world without the Sarlenac games, a world where their children, and their children's children didn't have to live in fear. A world where happiness can be held without fear of losing it.

"You carry a lot, I can see it in the bags around your eyes," he pauses, looking at the ground, "I can hear it when you scream in your sleep."

The tears stream faster as some of the pressure from the bottle releases.

"We all know, and we're all here, end of the day though, it's your decision, you're the one that presses the button."

His words weigh on me and lift me up in the same breath.

"I'll stand by you either way," he says, releasing my shoulder, "Do what you think is right."

He walks off toward the cave, leaving me in the low howl of the storm, alone with my thoughts. Alone with their thoughts too.

"Fuck…"

The timer at the edge of my vision has less than five minutes now. It's strange to have so much choice. Usually, I'm being told where I'm going to go, told that I'm getting fucked without any explanation as to why.

The best answer objectively without any emotions is that we should forfeit the quest and take the token hit. Go back and prepare for the next one, grind low gates, or whatever Fisban will let me do to try and power level.

Alternatively, Red might immediately send me to another Respec quest, possibly one that's even harder. Ulana isn't on defense or offense anymore. I'm all alone against the Red god or goddess that enjoys fucking me over.

I can't use a Respec token for Respec quests, it's only useful for regular gates since it can't activate on my home world. There isn't a good choice here, both have immense risks. All this objectiveness isn't like me, people by nature have a hard time being unemotional, it's just part of us. Raw and unfiltered, part of being alive.

When I look at it emotionally, I hear Gilroy's point about the ones who have died. If we leave here less than empty-handed, then what was the point? Why did they all die? Because they were on the wrong side? It's stupid. Even with the System culling half of the Earth's population we're still fighting amongst ourselves. It's dishonorable to the ones that have given their lives.

The timer is ticking down. I pull up the prompt, taking a deep breath, and selecting my answer. My choice, my decision. The short walk back to the cave feels like an eternity as I wrestle with what I decided.

"What do you mean he can come back when he dies?" Verantha asks Fisban, "And who is this Red entity? Why did it pull us into this?"

All eyes fall on me, and then silence falls over the cave, save the sound of the storm.

"We're seeing it through."

Gilroy and Fisban breathe relief. Tran and Barlow nod. Jericho and Verantha look at me like I just shot a puppy. I don't blame them, not really. If they die, it's on me. A pop-up appears in my vision.

[ Notice: You have made a mistake, one does not defy me without consequence. What you hold most dear, I will carve it from your heart. Foolish mortal. ]

I reread it three times. Red must mean Cortez, she's not here though. Still, makes me uneasy thinking about Red coming for someone I care about. That's tomorrow's problem, today, we need to figure out how the fuck to get off the island and make it to the quest objective. Desecrate the Temple of the Goddess Jaledi. Still not sure how we desecrate it, but I'm sure between the seven of us we can figure something out… hopefully.

"Right," Fisban says, clearing her throat, "We need to investigate the eye of the…"

She pauses, looking behind me. Her eyes going wide, her hand reaching for where her pistol used to be holstered before the storm took it. My eyes turn to Verantha as she squeals. Her eyes bulging, she's gasping now, pointing behind me. Dread creeps into my bones as I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. A voice hits the air that causes my insides to knot, regret burrowing into my chest as my heart thrashes.

"There you are, darling."

My head slowly turns as I gulp down the fear in my throat. Horns that could impale a man twice over, long black hair, her face is covered by a skull mask that's missing the jaw. Glowing red flames where eyes should be.

"Mira…" I breathe.

"Oh, you remember me?" she says, stepping forward with the grace of a panther as it moves for the kill.

I almost fall backward as her hand touches my cheek.

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

My mind is racing, but my eyes are fixed on the flaming skull mask. It looks like the Lich Aderaic, but I know it's not.

"Fuck around, find out…" she laughs villainously, "You fucked around, and now it's time to find out, darling."

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