Hero Hunter: The Glitch in the God System

Chapter 9

The shadow monster lashed out, its limbs like jagged obsidian blades. Freecs ducked, the air whistling as a claw pulverized the stone where his head had been a heartbeat prior.

"This thing is solidifying!" Freecs yelled, rolling across the cold floor to regroup with Vivina.

"It’s not just a projection!" she shouted back, deflecting a heavy blow with her glowing sword. "It’s a construct of the Council’s spite!"

Freecs lunged toward the cell, his dagger biting into the lock mechanism. "Old man, get out! Now!"

The prisoner stumbled forward, his chains clattering like dead leaves. "You can’t win by fighting the shadow! You have to starve the parasite!"

"Starve it?" Freecs barked, parrying a strike from the shadow-beast. "How do you suggest we do that while it’s busy trying to eviscerate us?"

"The System feeds on glory!" the old man wheezed, clutching his chest. "Every time a 'hero' dies for their cause, the energy ripples back to the Source! It’s not a tool, you fools—it’s a harvester!"

Vivina shoved the old man behind a pillar, her eyes flashing with a terrifying, golden light. "So the dungeon incursions? The 'Hero' parties? They’re just farming us?"

"Like cattle!" the prisoner spat, his cataract-filmed eyes wide. "They keep the population in constant fear so they can claim the glory and feed the System."

Freecs felt his gut churn. He blocked a strike, the force sending a jolt of agony up his arm. "That explains why my missions were always 'go here, kill this.' They were just keeping me busy until they needed me dead!"

"And now they’ve got you both in a corner," the old man cackled. "The harvest is ready."

"Stop laughing!" Vivina roared, slamming her hilt into the shadow-beast. It staggered, dissipating into smoke before surging back with twice the intensity. "Where is the source?"

"The Vault of Whispers!" the prisoner yelled. "Beneath the Council’s central spire! But you won't get there unless you use the service drain!"

"The drain?" Freecs swerved, barely missing a claw that shredded his velvet coat. "That’s a death sentence!"

"It’s a sewer line!" the man insisted. "It bypasses the magical sensors! Go, now!"

"Vivina, move!" Freecs grabbed her arm.

"Wait! We aren't leaving him behind!" she protested, pulling away.

"I’m a dead man, child!" the old man said, slumped against the stone. "My heart stopped the moment they opened the cell. Go! Make their harvest bitter!"

"Dammit!" Vivina grit her teeth, the golden aura around her flaring into a brilliant, blinding beacon. "Freecs, get to the grate! I’ll collapse the ceiling!"

"That’s going to bury us too, you realize that?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I hate it when you're right."

Freecs kicked the rusted grate from the wall, the smell of putrid water and rot flooding the room. He shoved his shoulder into the narrow gap.

"Jump!" he yelled.

Vivina didn't look back. She drove her sword into the ground, a shockwave of pure holy energy detonating in the center of the basement. The masonry groaned, the heavy stone ceiling cracking like a dry twig.

"You’re going to give me an ulcer!" Freecs grabbed her, dragging her into the darkness of the pipe just as the room turned into a mountain of falling debris.

The impact was bone-shaking. Dust choked the air, and for a moment, total darkness swallowed them.

"Are you alive?" Vivina’s voice trembled in the tight, dripping tunnel.

"Mostly," Freecs groaned, wiping mud from his face. "If I ever have a choice, remind me to pick a different career path."

"A little late for that, don't you think?"

"True. Being a fugitive is looking better by the minute."

She chuckled, though it sounded strained. "Look ahead. The light."

A faint, flickering violet glow radiated from the end of the sewer. Freecs crept forward, his hand steadying his dagger. He peered through the mossy bars of an exit grate and froze.

The basement was flooded with Inquisition guards. Standing in the center was High Priest Elian, his robes pristine, his eyes glowing with that same, sickening purple light.

"They aren't just looking for us," Freecs whispered, pulling back. "They’re preparing a welcoming committee."

"Elian," Vivina hissed, her fingers white around her hilt. "He’s there himself."

"He’s waiting for us to pop out of the hole."

"Then we don't pop out."

"Any other bright ideas?"

"We go up."

"Up? Into the main ventilation shafts?"

"It’s the only way to get to the spire without walking through his personal army."

"You really are a glutton for punishment, Saint."

"And you really like complaining about it, Glitch."

A heavy thud echoed from the floorboards above them. The smell of ozone—the smell of the System—cloyed the air.

"Freecs?" Vivina whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low pitch.

"Yeah?"

"I think we just ran out of time."

The metal ceiling above the sewer duct groaned. Suddenly, a fist—clad in jagged, black-plated armor—punched through the steel, twisting the metal like soft wax.

"Found you," a voice hissed from above.

The rest of the ceiling peeled away, revealing a dozen elite inquisitors hovering in the shaft, their blades glowing with hungry, violet fire.

"Target identified," the leader boomed, his voice distorted and cold. "Initiate harvest."

Freecs stood up, the blue interface in his eyes pulsing violently. "Well, Vivina," he said, drawing his blade and flashing a grin that held no warmth. "Guess it’s time to show them what a broken toy can do."

Vivina stepped up beside him, her sword blazing to life. "Let's break them first."