Changeling

2.9

Nestra looked down from her vantage point at the top of an office building. The nightly wind blew against her sports jacket.

She wasn’t ready. Not ready at all.

“That joker sent me to a guild portal?” she grumbled under her breath.

Pop up portals disappeared as soon as they were cleared and empty. Some portals, however, were permanent. They reappeared regularly with minor changes to their setups. Perhaps the trails were not the same but the biome and enemies were. Guilds rented such spaces from the city who officially had the right to every portal on its territory. In theory. In practice, guilds could enjoy their portals in perpetuity unless they failed to contain them or went bankrupt. Those portals were harvested for materials and if there was one thing crafter gleams loved more than exotic material, it was a regular supply of the stuff.

That meant that gleams protected their permanent portals.

And that meant that she was going to infiltrate a secured compound.

Nestra watched the bunker below. It was a squat structure, more a glorified box than anything else. A high wall surrounded it on all sides and on that wall were the telltale signs of cameras and sensors. There was a single door, a reinforced, steel affair that weighed several tons.

Nestra noticed a logo by the entrance, as well as the name Homeshield Security. She used the burner to access their website and check their offers, just in case, and her curiosity was rewarded. There was a page on the type of security provided for gates and Nestra got an inkling of what she was dealing with. Homeshield Security was a provider of safe access to D-class gates, working with small guilds to protect the most numerous and least valuable type of portal available around Threshold. Their bunkers were structured simply with a main chamber, and an antechamber manned by two security guards at the end of every cycle right before the portal reopened. The website vaunted top-of-the-line security but Nestra could read between the lines. This was a budget option meant to provide a sort of lock to other gleams who might want to loot the portal under the nose of their competitors. It happened sometimes. The issue was, Nestra was not equipped to deal with a fucking locked bunker, even if most of the security features were just a formality.

She could perhaps slice the bunker gate open if she coated, but even if the cameras glitched in her presence, the security guards wouldn’t. Not to mention, the HQ would get a notification that something had carved through a steel gate and the place would be covered in raiders in less than five minutes.

Perhaps she could lure a guard outside with a malfunction? And then what? The bunker was so small, the other guard would see a demon slip in.

There had to be another way. Yes, in fact, the benefactor had never sent her somewhere she couldn’t get in. They’d even disabled a janitor to make sure she could raid without problem. Logically, he wouldn’t have sent her somewhere she couldn’t get in without telling her in advance there was something to prepare for.

Nodding to herself, Nestra decided to ‘case the joint’ as the criminals put it. Ah, who was she kidding? She was a criminal as well now. A lawbreaker. Nyahaha. Aunt Claire would be proud.

“Alright, let’s see.”

Nestra jumped down out of sight, then sprinted to the wall, confident the cameras would see her as a glitch. She used a nearby dumpster as a stepping stone for a jump and, at the apex of her trajectory, she triggered momentum.

The strange power propelled her even higher, and much faster. She landed on the concrete roof of the bunker which was mercifully devoid of captors. Her black box confirmed the presence of cameras all around. More importantly, she could feel the portal under her feet. It was there, pulsing quietly like a siren song, calling her to feast and pregnant with all things desirable. It was just ripe for the taking if she would just allow herself to be drawn in. The rays of succulent energy warmed and reinvigorated her body like a nice morning shower. It spoke of home, though what home she couldn’t say.

Yes, the portal was calling and she could feel its fingers questing for someone to release the mana trapped inside, free it onto the world to integrate it more, to awaken it sip by sip. And Nestra was the perfect key for that. She just had to… give in.

The world blurred. Colors merged into lines then into a gray kaleidoscope that played with her sense of depth. She was floating in a void without direction and without gravity and that was perfect, just perfect.

And then she was standing in a clearing in a middle of a pine forest. Gray snow lightly fell upon her hair. Before her stood a fortress made of stone and hardened mud, brown walls covered in drab icicles and slabs of dirty ice. The blue light of the entry portal behind her confirmed what she’d suspected, its rays still comforting her.

A howl came from the fortress. A stocky creature with a long spiky mane and the face like a carnivorous horse stood on top of a battlement, a spear strapped to its back. The creature pointed at her and howled again. Yips answered it.

Nestra unsheathed her blade. Manaprimates Habilis Sonorus. Horlers. That was a rotten day to forfeit her armor.

Without waiting, Nestra sprinted towards the wall. Her feet beat on the frozen ground as she prepared to jump. Heads popped out from behind the crenelations, soon followed by the tip of arrows. She cried and used momentum again. The strange ability propelled her slightly above her target. She needed more practice.

Inertia carried her against a wood palisade. She bounced off and rammed into a horler with a spear, wounding it. The muscle mass made her attacks weak. Twirling, she cleaved down and carved her victim’s chest before it could recover. More of the creatures appeared from everywhere as she took in her surroundings.

The fortress was built on a flank of the mountain, merging with it. There were tents of sorts, a couple of openings but most of the structures were layered walls linked together by stairs that didn’t offer cover. Some of the horlers on the upper levels were already aiming their bows at her. Had to keep moving. She grabbed the dying horler and carried it forward like a shield, her strength barely enough to keep the surprisingly heavy creature up.

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Most of the horlers carried bandoliers and belts over short furs that came in earthy tones, but there were a few larger specimens with gray hair including the one who’d spotted her. Her mind took in the way the enemy were arranged and then she charged.

A few of the foes hesitated but most peppered the body she was carrying with short arrows. She threw her improvised barrier at another enemy and sliced low, hamstringing it. Then she was among them.

Cut.

Do not.

Slash.

Get.

Thrust.

Swamped.

Flowing, brutal movements followed each other. Let a shortsword slide on her blade, step aside, cut down. Step forward and cut up. An arm flies. A loud howl. Dodge low and let a volley of arrows take the two horlers surrounding her. Their screeches were deafening but she persevered. Some were grouping above her. Dangerous. She beheaded a recoiling spearman then rushed up some stairs, killing a gray fighter with a slice of coated blade. Another howl. She used momentum and another volley of arrows clicked on the stone behind her. This time, she’d been a bit short and the pair of horler spearmen blocking her way braced. She tried to use momentum and failed. It was like trying to speak and realizing she was out of breath, not particularly painful but a little annoying.

Nestra coated her blade and sliced. The powerful swing severed both shafts and parts of the shield, leaving the horlers surprised. She kicked the first and only managed to push it back a little. A baseline would have been sent flying.

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“Hah!”

An overhead strike split the other spearman’s head in two, then she ducked under a third volley and she was off again.

Happiness and frustration welled in Nestra’s heart in equal measure. Happiness at the dance. It was a good one. It was what she’d craved for so long. Time could not dull her excitement.

Frustration that she was such a bad dancer.

Too many tools, too little time to learn them. The Stalk of the Scornful Crescent was still a whispering voice guiding her but she was awkward and slow. The momentum ability was extremely powerful but she had issues with the distance. She was a baby playing with a sword. Only one thing would fix that.

Practice.

Kill more.

A shrieking squad had gathered around an old horler wearing a headdress with jutting horns, its body thin and corded. The creature’s chest expanded to grotesque proportions. A spellcaster. Sound shaman.

Run?

Not run, move in. Continue the dance.

Nestra used momentum again. She was away from them, then she was among them. Her sword shredded the beast’s lungs so that its mighty cry escaped as a gurgling squawk. She was moving still, with great sweeping attacks. She grabbed a gray horler’s spear and sliced his head off. The others kept fighting in disorder. They tried to pin her down but their bodies blocked their allies and she was still dancing among them with great, carving strikes. The three survivors ran and she charged ahead, towards the last large group at the top of the fortress. Archers. She ducked under a wall and arrows clattered behind her. She felt something touch her ass and the cold hand of fear grasped at her belly but it was just a rebound. She sprinted again. Another loud howl and she was down. More arrows.

The leader tsked and gave another order. The archers fired at will but she kept weaving ahead, sprinting with all she had. The dance guided her steps, making her unpredictable. The arrows failed to find her. There was one last set of stairs and then she would be among them.

No cover.

The chief horler screeched something and the pack stopped firing. She raced, waiting, staring down the beady eyes of the enemy.

The creature flinched. For an instant, triumph filled Nestra’s mind in a vicious tide but it was short-lived. The chief screeched and this time, it was different.

A bait?

Nestra made a gambit. It was a bait. It would lure her momentum and then strike. She held.

Half of the formation loosed.

“Fu—”

Nestra used the skill at the last moment. Terror crawled up her spine. She knew what would happen. As the skill finished, she was mid-air with her curled on herself and waiting for the pain. Another shriek, and it came with the rest of the volley.

She felt the impact first. The mind-searing flash of agony came immediately after when half a dozen arrows smashed into her. Except it was… not so bad?

Nestra landed in the middle of the befuddled formation. She stood and sliced the nearest archer in a trance, waiting for debilitation. It never came. As she fought, part of her saw the state of her arm. There were cuts bleeding a gray liquid that quickly turned red, and then, the wounds scabbed over.

Another strike and the realization set in.

She… was fine?

She was fine!

The screeches of the dying horlers hurt her ear, needling her on. Strike and cut as they spread apart to give themselves space to fight. Do not let them corner. Keep moving as they do, attacking with merciless grace. Nestra followed the whispers of the Scornful Crescent as the principles guided her. She was faster and thus, the foes were obstacles to each other instead of help. Bodies blocked the trajectories of arrows. Furry torsos came in the way of sword strikes. The narrow battlements were now an obstacle instead of a help as the horlers bumped into it. Meanwhile, Nestra dove and side-stepped and used the chaos, each step a threat, each move flowing into the next one. Eventually, the chief managed to scream orders and four survivors formed a last barrier in front of him while she cut down the last of the disorganized soldiers.

The chief removed the spear from its back and Nes realized the blade was something close to wrought bronze with a shiny jewel in the middle, in the shape of a slitted eye. The horler’s eyes bulged. Its muscles contracted with grisly cracks, veins visible even through the fur. Saliva foamed in its maw while its guardians stood, shivering in terror.

That was a portal artifact, a rarity. A mana tool crafted by unknown means. Many were extremely dangerous and, if the horlers were scared of it, that could only mean some sort of self-sacrifice or berserker effect.

So Nestra took her gun from its sheath and lined up the sights. There was something almost comical in the chief’s expression of sheer, hateful shock.

She pulled the trigger.

As before, the gun kicked like a mule even with her enhanced strength. The bullet smashed through two horlers before piercing through the chief’s arm, causing the spear to jolt. The strange effect was interrupted.

Nestra charged forward. Her instincts told her the horlers were going to run until they were overtaken by the same drive that pushed all portal monsters to ceaselessly attack intruders even when defeat was certain. She deflected the spears and cut in the same movement, once, twice, then she coated her blade.

The chief horler charged her.

Nestra breathed in and out. The creature was maddened but still dangerous. It feinted its first thrust. Nestra stepped back to avoid the next attack, then slid into his guard by deflecting the third but he stepped back. Her overhead strike was stopped by the artifact. The horler used its weapon like a staff. She blocked the next attack at the last moment, her bones shaking from the strength of his blow then she parried the next thrust and countered with a series of fast jabs. The horler struggled to block them. Blood stained his fur.

He screamed.

Nestra accepted the pain in her ears as she struck, catching the beast off guard. Her attack cleaved it from shoulder to sternum. Just like the shaman, the chief’s roar ended in a pained moan. The coup de grace cut it off and silence, once again returned to the fortress.

Nestra’s ears whistled painfully. There were barely closed cuts on her arms and legs. She was out of breath and gulping air greedily. Blood covered her tattered clothes from head to toe, and none of this mattered because she was victorious once more. Power rushed into her. She felt her senses grow keener. Her ears popped as they healed and the sounds of the snowy forest returned in all their glory which was, admittedly, not that much. Just the groan of tree trunks.

“Nice.”

Nestra surveyed the fortress. It was a scene of relentless carnage, just like she liked them. More importantly, there were a few canvas tents disseminated among the wooden stakes and palisades of the battlement. That meant… it was time to loot! But first thing first, she approached a patch of pristine snow and placed her hand against it. Cold. Crunchy. She gathered some of it and compacted it. Water dripped from her fingers. The packed snow now looked like a handle with small crystals attempting to escape from the imposed form. She gathered more of it into a ball. It felt so light, yet quite compact.

Snow.

It was the first time she experienced real snow.

Threshold was situated on a massive island off the coast of Japan. It was never cold enough for there to be snow, except at the top of Mount Dirge but no one went there. She’d never traveled abroad. Her father considered such trips as wasteful and extravagant frivolities, far from the Palladian’s ideal steely resolve. This wasn’t like mainland China where one could just travel to the Harbin or Altay enclaves. Here, one had to take a ship or a plane and those were always expensive and slightly risky propositions. So, yeah.

Snow.

Nestra felt giddy for all of two seconds, barely enough time to throw the snowball and watch it splatter against the cooling corpse of a horler. Right. Portal world. Had to focus.

The exit portal shone a little higher, at the top of the fortress but she ignored it for now. Pulling the horler entry, she went through the depressingly low list of prizes. The arrow tips were exotic material which would have gone through her armor but they were also of the lowest craftsmanship, which meant it was cheaper and more efficient just to mine exotic ore and have an apprentice forge some. Much like most dokkaebi, horler physiology was so familiar that specimens held no value. Nestra went through a few bandoliers finding little but teeth, poorly made thread, and small statuettes. All worthless. Sighing, she picked up the artifact.

Mana caressed her psyche, inviting her to take ownership of the tool. She refused. It was obviously cursed as fuck and not her style anyway.

Her mood improved though. Artifacts were worth a lot of money to the right buyer, even the bad ones. Many research breakthroughs occurred because of enchantments found in those items. Once that was done, she searched the tents and found covers and other useless everyday items. They still carried the stench of their previous owners, though Nestra found herself surprisingly resilient to it. There was, however, a prize. In a large, ruddy bag, she found grains. A lot of grains. A quick search led to a bout of ecstatic laughter.

Dinner was going to be great.

Pleased with herself, Nestra approached the final portal. The reward this time was a measly two crystals but that was to be expected. Permanent gates were usually less profitable than unique ones. The trees were probably valuable so any guild clearing them could sell exotic wood to gleam crafter guilds that made the kind of bed Aunt Claire could comfortably bang on. Ugh. Had to remove that image from her mind. In any case, the artifact alone would be worth a ton if she could sell it. Happy with her loot this time, she crossed the portal.

She found herself in a dark, empty concrete room with no decoration. A lonely shelf stood against a nearby wall, filled with medical items like gauze and blood clotters. There was a camera in a corner so she was on a timer. More importantly, a single chair waited for her with a box on top of it. Rewards! She approached it and opened it. It contained a letter and as well as a nightmarish wound in the fabric of the universe with red beady eyes and an infinity of claws that writhed into and out of themselves in a mind-rending mangling of depth and the rules of physics. The insanity-inducing vista resolved itself when the fifth dimension millipede bit Nestra’s hand. A black layer of silk spread over her fingers then her forearm before disappearing under her bloodstained, ravaged sleeves. She felt it spread on her being like a cold wave.

“AAAAAAAYAYAYAYARGARGETITOFFGETITOFF!” Said Nestra.

In less than a second, the Lovecraftian insect had turned into a sort of thin bodysuit.

The process had been entirely painless. The only casualties were Nestra’s sanity and her pride.

The letter fell to the ground, opening as it did.

“Congratulations on getting your Skin little Nezhra! It feeds off a liiiiittle bit of blood. Don’t worry, they’re completely tame. I have been thinking about what you said. I am sorry. I forgot humans are a very social species, after all. I cannot tell you much now because you are simply too weak to keep a secret if someone were to interrogate you. I also do not have the right to do so. It’s complicated. What I can promise you is that we will meet when you reach C-rank and your powers have matured a bit and I will answer, well, not all of your questions, but at least the ones that matter. Grow and you will know and remember, you are not alone. I am watching over you.

Well, not all the time of course. I’ll be busy for the next three days so find the next coordinates below and then enjoy your time off!”

“Can I just get a Kero nut next time?”

Somehow, a sense of amusement filtered through her mind, then a pang of guilt.

That made Nestra suspicious.

“You ate the rest of them didn’t you?”

The guilt turned to stark panic, then she got the sense of someone pointing in a direction then using the old smoke bomb escape trope, only the direction was the gate leading out.

“Did you hear something?” a voice said on the other side.

Nestra suddenly remembered her situation.

She was an armed tall demon woman with blood-crusted runners gear carrying pilfered loot next to a clearly deactivated portal world.

There were no words in English, Korean, or the demon tongue to express just how fucked she was.