Death Smith - Book 1 - Chapter 16

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Hazard pays

Two weeks ago.

February, 14 AR.

United Kingdom, north of Liverpool, Outside Rift 7.

“Grace. Oy! Grace!” Jack said. Seeing as there was no reaction, Jack then kicked Grace’s feet off the desk, forcing her into a sudden seated position as she opened her eyes. Her scarred features displayed fatigue and an obvious hangover. Still, her emerald gaze quickly flared alive, watching Jack Delby.

“What do you want, Jack?” Grace asked, her voice still hoarse from her fight with last night’s bottle of rum.

Jack sighed once, to let her know he disapproved of the state she was in. “The Rifters have all arrived. We have twenty porters in total for this run.”

“That should do for now. What about security?” Grace asked, rubbing her eyes as she slowly got up, mentally preparing herself for another Rift clearing. She wore a padded R.A.M. uniform with a ram avatar on the right sleeve. The green dyes uniform had been machine woven from sturdy fabrics harvested from within the Rift. It offered less protection compared to it being Rifter made, but R.A.M. preferred to order in bulk.

“The usual ten fighters have all arrived. Because of the level of this Rift, we had to hire five outsiders. They are all veterans and ranked between above level fifty. One of our regulars was familiar with one newcomer and will vouch for her. The other rest are unknown, save for one with a chip on his shoulder. Apparently, he is the younger brother of some bigshot in the states,” Jack said as he drenched his words in disdain at the end before he continued. “So, two Americans, two Brits and one French bloke,” Jack said, placing a tablet on her desk that had all the information about the five outsiders.

Grace read through it while accessing her inventory at the same time. She summoned items out of thin air, letting them hug her body in a perfect fit as it encased her in additional armour. Jack simply ignored this, having gone over this countless times already. Instead, the man shared his thoughts with Grace, a somewhat worried expression clearly visible. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t just go for a level two or level three Rift. Why wait until it is a level five?”

As he shared his thoughts Grace glanced outside, seeing the groups of Rifters make their way towards their cubicles so that they could get dressed and prepare themselves.

“Profits, Jack,” Grace told him while double-checking her wrist guards before equipping her sword and slinging it across her shoulder.

“R.A.M. has been seeing a steady decline in profits over the last two years. There is more competition, and the lower Rifts don’t hold enough ores to make it worthwhile anymore. Letting the Rift grow until it is level four will increase the difficulty while also increase the number of precious metals we might harvest,” Grace said as she placed a hand on his shoulders, signalling that it was above their paygrade. Afterwards the two of them stepped out of the complex and made their way over towards the group of Rifters that would join them today.

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[You have equipped an Item: R.A.M. Steel pickaxe.]

[You have equipped an item: R.A.M. Padded work clothes.]

[You have equipped an item: R.A.M. Leather boots.]

[You have equipped an item: R.A.M. Leather gloves.]

Swinging his pickaxe a few times, Lance tested its grip before it satisfied him. He swung his backpack over his shoulders and left the private cubicle that the company had assigned to him. He had already stored away his clothes and items in the locker there. The lockers were quite secure and there was security on site. Lance usually travelled light, but it was always good to have some fresh clothes when you came back out of a Rift.

A bright-faced man made his way over towards him when Lance stepped outside of the cubicle. “Hey, Lance.”

“Hey, Matt. What’s up?” Lance asked, glancing in Matt’s direction as he watched the man slowly walk over towards him, a soft smile visible on his features. Matt Chapman stood out amongst most Rifters, being even taller than Lance was. He had shaved his brown hair at the sides, no doubt hoping to look more professional. Sadly, his soft brown eyes ruined any chance of that happening.

He had been a fellow porter on a few runs but had finally got a position as a fighter. During the last run, Matt had run security as well. He was several levels higher than Thomas and Lance. Some Rifters of his level would seek employment elsewhere, or work as a freelancer. Others, like Matt, preferred to work a steady job and clear Rifts that were familiar to them as well as at lower levels.

“Good, good… But are the rumours true about Thomas? You know, about the eye?” Matt asked Lance in a hushed tone before glancing back at Thomas. The redhead was speaking with Jack near the entrance, still signing the contract that allowed Thomas to rent the uniform, pickaxe, and the backpack he would use inside the Rift.

Lance noticed several of the other porters and fighters talk amongst themselves as they occasionally stared at Thomas. Some were even smiling outright. The more Lance thought about it, the more his mind put two and two together. ‘I don’t know what they are talking about, but I know it will ruin Thomas’s mood.’

“Completely true. I was there when it happened,” Lance said, lying through his teeth while being clueless about what he had just confirmed. He just knew that it would be hilarious.

“I knew it! I bloody knew it,” Matt said, nearly bursting out in laughter before he slapped Lance on the shoulder playfully. The two of them then joined up with the other Rifters. Lance could have sworn he heard hushed whispers coming from Matt and the others, explaining that Grace had punched Thomas in the face after he tried to flirt with her.

‘It’s these moments that make me glad to be friends with Thomas,’ Lance thought, remembering how often Thomas had asked to heal the black eye he had got from sparring with Daniel. It had been a few days, but faint traces still lingered.

Although there was a relaxed atmosphere on Rift site 47-C4, there was no mistaking that they were about to enter a dangerous environment. All around him, Lance could see people double-checking their equipment, helping one another out with straps or simply going over the information they had involving this Rift.

Most of the porters were wearing the typical R.A.M. equipment, while the fighters had equipped their own gear. It made sense, seeing as the fighters were several levels higher, had more experience, and got paid more.

Most of them had tailored steel armour, with thick padding or chain-mail underneath. Others wore flexible leather and scale or a mixture of both. There was a blend between a historical design that was tried and tested throughout the ages and a more modern style. Had they not been standing in front of a pulsating angry Rift, the sight might have been funny, with a bunch of grown men and women dressed up in armour.

Nearly everyone had a cutting or blunt weapon at the ready, some even several weapons. A few Rifters used shields, others carried bows, crossbows or throwing weapons. The wealthier Rifters had actual pistols and rifles. The latter was quite effective in smaller Rifts, seeing as a bullet would take down just about anything if hit in the right place. Apparently, higher levelled monsters could shrug off bullets. Lance did not even want to think about such monsters.

Spotting Thomas in the distance, Lance held up his hand, signalling where he was.

“All good?” Lance asked, getting the nod from Thomas before the two of them rechecked the contents of their backpack. Upon opening it, one would find several steel containers filled with clean water and tightly stacked, dry food rations that would last them a few weeks if they rationed it wisely. People made all of it from things that others brought back from a Rift. Some Rifts had water, edible plants or even wildlife inside, while others were devoid of anything supporting life.

“All good. You?” Thomas asked, bending his neck sideways and creating a nasty popping sound. No doubt Lance could see the change happening within Thomas already. That feeling you got just before someone entered a Rift. It was a moment all Rifters could relate to. Your body would tense up and you could swear you could feel the Rift-shard within your chest throbbing slightly as your heart was pounding violently. Fear, excitement, confusion, joy. Someone could feel everything and anything at such a time as adrenaline was coursing through their veins.

Lance smiled and nodded to Thomas before he spoke. “Rift seven, here we come! Seven is a lucky number, right?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe I get lucky and level up during the Rift itself. Level ten, baby!” Thomas said with a grin as he wrapped an arm around his tall friend and pulled him in for an awkward hug before the two of them made their way over towards another group of Rifters that they enjoyed hanging out with.

As Thomas began speaking with the others, hinting at a ‘surprise’ he had bought for this Rift, Lance thought about what this Rift would mean for them.

‘Even if Thomas kills nothing inside the Rift, just clearing the Rift will award him with a level up. He’d go from level nine to level ten. That level would elevate him from being a mere Survivor to an actual Veteran,’ Lance thought, going over what that might mean for them. At level ten, they would get their class, and in doing so, gain several boons. Depending on what their class would be, they might even get scouted by important companies or even some major guilds.

“Hey Lance, what are your pl-” Matt asked Lance before they could hear a large beep from the speaker system that was installed near the Rift. It announced that they would enter the Rift in a few minutes.

Every Rifter on site had been through this before and knew what it meant for them. One by one, they all lined up and waited for the Rift leader to make her appearance.

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“All right, Ladies! You know the drill,” The Rift-leader said. Grace’s back was towards the Rift, with the strange black energy dancing in the background. Her gaze fell upon the Rifters before her, seeing the twenty porters and fifteen fighters all standing at the ready, waiting for her words. “Site forty-seven-C-four. Others before us have dubbed it ‘The Cave’. Other Rifters had cleared it twenty-nine times already. They usually let it fluctuate between level two and four. It is now registered as a level five Rift.”

Whispers formed at that, yet Grace quickly snuffed it out. “We have increased our security by fifty per cent. Still more than enough to see us through the Rift with no problems. We’ll clear this place step by step while collecting and mining what they pay us to do,” She barked, her no-nonsense tone instantly stopping any further whispers or doubts. Her fist pointed at the Rift, with her steel gauntlets showing signs of having encountered immense flames at one point.

“Everyone has read the information surrounding this Rift. We know it has breathable air, drinkable water and some creatures inside are edible,” she said with a grin, knowing full well that most Rifters preferred additional rations, not to mention fresh meat now and again.

“Inside we will encounter mostly a canine type of monster and small humanoid creatures. Both are dangerous in groups, yet less so one on one. They might have crude weaponry and tools at their disposal,” Grace said, stepping closer towards a nearby crate that the Rifters would bring with them inside.

“So, I say we show them some of ours. I had the boys over at the Workshop build us something special for this Rift, and I am itching to test it out in the field,” she said finally before she spun on her heels and made her way closer to the Rift. The fighters lined up behind her, carrying equipment slung over their shoulders or boxes carried between the two of them.

A timer near the Rift was slowly counting down, slowly moving towards the zero mark. Upon reaching it, a beeping sound rang out. Grace suddenly shot forwards, diving through the Rift while already activating a skill of her. The fighters then waited five seconds before the next beep came. They then rushed inside the Rift to support Grace, or deal with what was left of the monsters.

Lance watched the fighters disappear from his sight as he pondered on what they might find inside. ‘It is a brave thing to go inside a Rift as the first person. Still, judging by the rumours that surrounded Grace ‘Flame-Fist’ Hicks, she might even survive on her own inside a level five Rift.’

Lance felt a nudge from Thomas, snapping him back into the present. He knelt and grabbed the crate on one end while Thomas lifted it on his side. Even for two Rifters, the box felt heavy and was likely full of equipment.

The timer once again displayed a countdown, counting down from forty seconds.

The longer they stayed outside, the more time would have passed within the Rift. There was a window of a few minutes until the Rift would become violent and not allow any things else entry, so they would have to time it correctly.

The safest way was to enter within a minute after the first person had stepped inside the Rift. After that minute things would vary per Rift, with some staying stable for many minutes, while other Rifts only a few more seconds.

He thought he could hear some porters count out loud. It was custom to send the warriors in first before the weaker porters went in. This to take the brunt of the fighting and worry less about weaker part members. This did not mean that porters wouldn’t see any action when they stepped through the Rift. Even in other Rifts he had been in with Thomas, there always was the threat of a monster lurking nearby. Sometimes they came in waves, other times they hid and tried to ambush Rifters.

Gripping the pickaxe more firmly in his hands, Lance moved forwards with Thomas. He could feel Thomas’s gaze shift towards him, nodding as they neared the violent black entity that was a Rift. This would be the highest Rift they had been in after they had survived their first Rift.

‘Thomas and I are still classless, meaning we could take on Rifts between level one and three. Three would be pushing it even. A level five Rift like this would be something else. It would mean that we cannot beat the guardians or the more challenging monsters on our own,’ Lance thought, his mind going over many scenarios in his head. Internally he began to think about this Rift and the first one he had been in, wondering what the difference was between a level 5 and a level 7 Rift was before he felt the box he was carrying hit him in the side as Thomas spoke up.

“Don’t get lost in that head of yours, Lance. We’ll be fine. This isn’t like the hospital, nor are we the same people. Compared to training with Daniel, how bad could this be?” Thomas said with a grin as Lance chuckled, slowly feeling the unease he was feeling leave his mind.

Thomas was right, for once. They had trained hard and had levelled up since that horrible day all those months ago. They had a higher level, decent equipment, and a lot of training. So, Lance nodded and replied to Thomas confidently. “Compared to Daniel? A walk in the park, right?”

“A picnic. Come on, let’s do this,” Thomas said before the two of them got ready for when the timer ran out. When the beep finally sounded, the porters all rushed forward, holding tight onto their cargo and the weapons they had at their disposal before they were all swallowed up by the blackness of the Rift itself.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2021 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2021