A Gathering Storm

POV: Sergei Bratva

Sergei Bratva stood barefoot on the wooden floor of the rooftop terrace of his Turo Park penthouse. He stared out over the panoramic view of Barcelona that spread out before him, as if it had personally insulted him.

He was in his briefs. He usually savored the feeling of sunlight on his skin, the warmth spreading across the scars that dotted the muscled landscape of his physique. But he couldn't enjoy this simple pleasure. Not now.

Sergei's jaw worked as he swashed another sip of his wine. Fucking Mikhail. His cousin had been young—just a kid—when he first started helping Sergei and the others running weaponry to other crime syndicates and various militants all over the world. That had been back in the old world. Before the System, and before Gate Crashing. Mikhail had always been risk adverse. A trait of his that Sergei always appreciated, as it was something he personally lacked. Even when they started Gate Crashing, Mikhail would push for safer operations. The equivalent of quick smash-and-grabs. Those were the only jobs Mikhail participated in.

The latest American Gate was supposed to be one of those jobs. Easy.

Nothing was every that easy in their line of work.

And now four of his men, including his own cousin, were fucking dead.

Sergei's anger swelled and he threw the glass. It shattered against the far wall, ruby droplets spattering like arterial spray across the pale stone of his building's exterior.

Fucking Mikhail!

A woman was standing beside him, silk robe ready in her hand. He exhaled through his nose, calming down enough to allow her to help him slip it on over his shoulders.

Then, he stalked into the penthouse, silk robe fluttering behind him. In the darker confines of the apartment, his left nipple sparkled. An enchanted nipple piercing that he kept equipped at all times, even outside of the Gates. It provided him with the passive Skill [Alert], which made it practically impossible for anyone to get the jump on him.

And there was the enchanted tattoo across his chest. In his mother tongue, it read LET THEM TRY. It bestowed several elemental Resistances.

He instinctively summoned his Status window.

User Profile:

Name: Sergei Bratva (Participant No. 5,889)

Race: Modified Human

Discipline: Crafter

Class: Rift Ravager

Level: 42

Health Points (HP): 930/930

Mana Points (MP): 800/800

Stamina: 625/625

He opened his [Traits] Menu.

TRAIT: [Black Ticket Aficionado]

Description: As a Rift Ravager, your mastery over creating unauthorized Gates has been rewarded by the Powers that Be. Upon the completion of any Quest, in addition to the standard Quest rewards, you will receive one or more Black Gate Tickets. The grade of the Black Gate Ticket will depend on the difficulty of the completed Quest and how well you and your Party performed during such Quest. Additionally, when entering a Black Gate you and any allies will receive a Quest. The objectives of the Quest will depend on the intent and personal objectives of those entering the Black Gate.

Current Black Gate Tickets Available: 13.

Access Black Gate Tickets?

[Yes/No]

The Black Gate Tickets were how Sergei and his crew were able to Gate Crash. Even low-grade Black Gate Tickets were capable of entering within the plane created by another Gate. The real trick was collecting trustworthy intel, so they knew what they were getting themselves into. Apparently, the intelligence on that American Gate had been flawed somehow.

Sergei mentally selected Yes, summoning a miniature menu of his available Black Gate Tickets, organized by grade from lowest to highest. The higher the grade, the less specific the user's intent had to be when using it. Lower grade tickets needed a high level of knowledge on where the tunnel connected to the Gate would lead. At higher grades, the Tickets could bring someone anywhere their heart desired.

He inhaled through his nose, exhaled through clenched teeth. He would need to burn a couple of high-grade Tickets to achieve his goals. Sergei didn't believe in vengeance. He believed in returns on investment. But sometimes, the two overlapped.

In the corner of his penthouse's main living space, a worm of a man cowered in the shadows. Ivan. The man was useless in combat, but served Sergei well in so many other ways. He was a Corpsetongue. And his Skills would be needed shortly.

Sergei made his selection, mentally tapping on Black Gate Ticket [Advanced Grade]. A slim, black rectangle materialized in his hand, shimmering like a razor made of ink.

He focused on the ticket, then issued his command.

"Bring me to Mikhail's body," he growled.

The air before him tore open, as the Ticket in his grasp dissolved into black sand. A Gate—a jagged, shadow-rimmed wound in space—ripped itself into existence with a sound like bones being pulled from wet mud. Sergei stepped through without hesitation.

One foot down, and the world around changed.

Gone was the penthouse. In its place: harsh fluorescent light, antiseptic air, and a room that stank of formaldehyde and metal. Autopsy tables lined the space, but only one held what mattered.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Mikhail was laid out like a slab of meat. His corpse was naked, cold, and broken. Everything useful stripped from his body. The armor may have been ridiculous in appearance, but it was powerful and plundered from a high-level British Gate. Mikhail had always believed the System had a twisted sense of humor. Sergei didn't think the System had a personality at all. It was the world beyond the Gates that shaped the artifacts within.

A rustle behind him. A whimper.

Sergei's eyes flicked toward the sound. A man—doctor or coroner, it didn't matter—staggered back against a wall of stainless-steel cabinets, eyes wide.

"P-please—!" It was in English and sounded American.

Sergei raised a hand, pressing a finger against his lips. The whimpering man shut up.

Then, he turned his attention back to Mikhail. You fucking idiot, he thought. He sighed.

Another terrified sound as the man made a dash towards the exit door. He was too slow. A small portal opened in front of the door.

The hatchet sailed through clean. A whump as it landed in soft, fleeing meat.

The body collapsed. Silence returned to the moratorium.

Sergei walked over calmly, crouched down, and pulled the hatchet from the man's neck, wiped the blood on the guy's lab coat, and slipped it back into his Inventory. He scanned the man's body, finding an ID badge clipped to his hip. He snatched it, glancing at the information on the card for a moment too long, letting his System's translation function kick in.

"Cleveland…" he breathed. He let the badge drop from his fingers, giving the dead man an appreciative pat on the chest as he stood.

Then, with the tenderness of a father lifting his sleeping son, he gathered Mikhail's body into his arms.

"You died wrong," Sergei muttered, more to the air than to the corpse. "And that's my fault." But he was going to make things right.

He turned on his heel and stepped back through the portal. It folded closed behind him like a mouth swallowing a scream.

***

POV: Joseph Sullivan, Muscle Mage

The Flying Fright shrieks like a demon. The sound reminds me of a car crash, and despite this being the fifth one we've encountered today, it still makes my ears bleed.

A Flying Fright is like a man-sized iguana with bat wings. Our current opponent is suspended in the air, angrily flapping its wings in frustration. The blade-like edges of the wings slice at the spectral fingers of my [Force Grab], though the massive, translucent hand is unbothered. Its fist is clenched around the body of the monster, pinning its long claws against its side. Unfortunately, my aim with the Spell hadn't been perfect, and I missed its wings. Which means it's hovering awkwardly in place high above us, like a sweaty hummingbird mid-seizure.

It tries to flee, beating its wings with all its might. I feel a tug on the thick, umbilical cord of force energy tethered from the spectral hand to my navel. Beyond the physical tug, there's a pressure within my core, right behind where the leash connects me with the [Force Grab] Spell. I realized it's the feeling of my Strength being put against the Strength of the Flying Fright. I don't want to find out what will happen if I fail. Would the thing fly off with me dragging along behind it?

The System let's me know I'm exerting real effort to keep the monster in place. My Stamina bar flares in the corner of my HUD, slowly ticking away. I have plenty to spare, so I'm not particularly worried.

"I got this one locked down!" I shout. "Someone wanna help out, or am I solo-ing this guy?"

"A little busy!" Liv shouts.

I spare a moment to glance over to see her, Walter and Preston busy fighting what look like four tree stumps walking on roots-for-legs.

Monster Identified: Haunted Stump

Level: 22

Classification: Bewitched Barkborn

Walter has summoned four other skeletons to engage with the stump-monsters. Preston and Liv are both buffing them with Spells. Earlier this morning—around the time we were engaged with Flying Fright number two of the day—Liv had gained a new Spell. It's called [Enhance] and enhances specific attributes of her allies for a short period of time. Preston meanwhile is casting a Spell I've learned is called [Lesser Spiritual Weapon]. It's conjured glowing blades in the hands of Walter's skeleton thralls, who are zooming around the Haunted Stumps thanks to Liv boosting their speed.

"Um… Okay!" I exclaim, just as the Flying Fright screeches again. I recoil at the sound. "Jelly! You and Grush want in on this one?"

Grush charges in with an affirmative groan. Jelly Boy is in one of his large, green-skinned hands. Jelly Boy triggers a new Skill he had also recently gained (though when, I don't know). His surface ripples, smooths, and then hardens into a shimmering, semi-transparent blue brick. He becomes a perfect rectangular shape thanks to his [Mimic Quality] Skill. This is the form he takes when he mimics metal… I think.

Grush, not missing a beat, holds onto the Jelly Brick, takes a wide stance, cocks the Jelly Brick back, and hurls him like a goddamn Olympic shot-putter.

Jelly Boy whistles through the air like a missile.

SPLORTCH!

The Flying Fright never stood a chance. Jelly Boy punches through the monster's chest cavity, ripping a wet, bat-lizard-hole through its torso. The thing tries to scream, but it sounds more like a gas station slushy machine dying. Not that that's any better than the car-collision scream from moments before. Blood sprays from the wound, raining down over the battlefield.

Midair, Jelly Boy liquefies. His goo spreads, stretches, and forms into a parachute of glittery goop, which catches the updraft and lowers him gently back to the ground, as though he were some sort of slime-made war angel.

You have defeated Flying Fright, Level 19!

Partial credit awarded to…Grush!

Partial credit awarded to… Jelly Boy!

Level 24 increased to Level 25!

Finally! I think. I had been eagerly awaiting the level up and another use of my unique Trait.

I exhale, and cancel my [Force Grab] Spell with a quick mental command. The spectral hand and tether disappear in a cloud of silvery mist and the donut-like corpse of the Flying Fright plummets to the damp forest floor, landing with a wet plop!

I take a moment to pull up my Health bar.

Health: 517/535

"God dammit," I breathe. Still fifteen points away!...

I want to try the [Lesser Summoning: Ally] Spell I got from Walter. But the Spell requires an exorbitant amount of Stamina to cast. Luckily, I was only another level away from having enough (just enough) to cast it.

"Bzzzzzttt!..."

I look down to see Jelly Boy staring up at me. He stretches a pseudopod from his body, pointing it in the direction of the group fighting the Haunted Stumps.

"Right," I say. "We should go help."

So, we clean up the Haunted Stumps. I summon Lefty with a single casting of [Wizard's Fist] and we make light work dispatching the monsters, especially because Walter's skeletons had already softened them up.

With the battle over, I scrunch my face as though smelling something rancid, focusing on flexing my facial muscles, and place my hands on my hips, also activating my forearms and biceps. I squeeze.

[Clean]

Energy ripples from my body, washing over the entire party and instantly all blood, dirt and grime are cleaned from our persons.

"Yeah, I could get used to this Spell," I say, grinning like an idiot.

Walter walks up behind me, gives my shoulder a hearty clap.

"Not bad," he says, voice bone-dry and gravel-smooth. "Fifth Flying Fright of the day, and another handful of Haunted Stumps. I'm assuming you've leveled up after this one?"

I give him a confirming nod.

"Excellent," he says, clapping his hands together. "We've bagged enough Frights for now. Let's make camp."

"And I gained a new Resistance fighting those Stumps!" says Liv, cheerful following a battle for once. "They kept targeting me with some Skill, but I was naturally resisting it anyways. Still, I received a message after the fight that I gained the 'Necrotic' Resistance."

"That will be very useful in our Realm," says Preston.

"Jealous!" I say dramatically (though it's true), giving Liv a playful punch on the shoulder.

Walter, ever one to keep the party on our perfectly allocated schedule, snaps to gain our attention. It's time to go.

The forest groans around us, branches swaying as an evening chill sweeps in off a whispering wind. The smell is all peat and wet moss and the burnt ozone of Spell residue fill my nostrils.

I follow Walter, feet squelching in muck, Jelly Boy sloshing loyally at my side. His ability to control his slime body with his new Skill has become truly impressive, and six pseudopods extend from beneath his blobby mass, crawling along beside me but keeping his primary form muck free.

"You know, man," I say to him. "It's a little creepy to see you crawling around like that… And I'll miss carrying you."

He vibrates in response, and I somehow understand that he means to tell me not to worry. My carrying duties are far from over.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.