Death Smith - Book 1 - Chapter 18

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Class act

Two weeks ago.

February, 14 AR.

Inside Rift 7.

-Clang-

Matt and a few of the other Rifters watched as both Lance and Thomas fought against wolf-like monsters. The other Rifters had subdued two of the monsters after running into a small pack of them. Afterwards, they had released them inside a narrow tunnel, blocking off any chance of escape for the monsters. The monsters knew that the only chance of survival was to fight, driving the monsters into an aggressive feral state.

“Nice!” Matt said, grinning as he watched Thomas bash the wolf-like monster in the face. Some eggheads in the GRRO had decided on some fancy Latin name with a number that matched its first Rift sighting. Unsurprisingly, no Rifter worth his shard would ever use it. Instead, each Rifter preferred his or her own nickname when encountering them. The most creative one would usually stick around and end up as the accepted term. Currently, it was a tie between ‘Cave-wolves’ and ‘Rock-biters’. The former was more factual, while the latter simply sounded cool.

Wanting to tease the lads further, Matt shared his encouraging thoughts with Lance and Thomas. “You two know you're supposed to fight it, not cuddle it, right?” His voice filled with both mirth and pride. Both porters were doing rather well. The average Cave-wolf was quite agile, beyond what most porters could handle. In terms of strength and endurance, the monsters were not all that threatening. Basic armour would mostly negate their agility, seeing as a Rifter could just tank it.

“Put a sock in it,” Thomas said, keeping the shield between him and the monster as he tried to steer it into unfavourable terrain. The monster finally felt its hind legs hit the wall behind him as it realised the Rifter had trapped it. One last rage-induced attack was all that it had left before a thick steel shield bashed its skull in, followed by a pickaxe to the neck.

“There! Are you not entertained?” Thomas said, standing up and holding out his hands like a gladiator of old. Matt and the other fighters quickly soured Thomas’s triumph, with Matt giving a fake slow-clap while the others gave a weak thumbs up.

Suppressing the urge to make a rude comment, Thomas shrugged it off and joined them, allowing him to see how Lance was doing. Even now, with a mere 2 level difference between Lance and Thomas, one could see the difference in ability.

The ludicrous amount of Strength Thomas had at his disposal had pressured the monster into a corner. Each level would increase a Rifter’s base attributes by one point and grant an additional three points extra to spare. The more you factored these things in, the easier it became to accept how Matt and the other fighters could defeat several of these monsters at unfavourable odds and capture two monsters, sustaining no injuries save for a bruise or two.

‘Still, Lance is doing rather well,’ Thomas thought, seeing Lance narrowly evade, again and again, causing the creature to slam into the wall behind him. The lack of a shield meant Lance had to be more evasive or get creative. What lance seemed to lack in offensive strength, he made up for by letting the monster damage itself through its charges.

“Come on, Lance! You got this,” Thomas said encouragingly, watching his friend slowly distance himself from the monsters, not responding to the growls the feral entity let out.

At first glance, it seemed like Lance was backing off, apparently pressured by the monster. The longer Thomas focused on the details, the more he noticed something was off. Lance wasn’t holding the pickaxe properly, letting it dangle downwards at a weird angle. It went against everything Daniel had taught them over the last few months.

Sensing weakness, the Cave-wolf rushed forwards, presenting its razor-sharp teeth. Suddenly, Lance moved, dragging the pickaxe across the ground in a shovel-like manner before launching large amounts of fine dust and smaller pebbles at the monster, peppering its face, and temporarily blinding its eyes.

Seconds later, Lance was upon it, tackling it to the ground as he grappled it in a chokehold, keeping the monster’s back pinned down against Lance’s chest. Lance’s legs had ensnared the monster’s hind legs while his trained arms quickly went for the monster’s throat. As Lance cut off the Cave-wolf’s circulation, it panicked and struggled like mad. It only made the chokehold more effective and sped up the process. ‘Although not a violent person, Lance sure can conjure up brutally effective strategies,’ Thomas thought, seeing his friend calmly squeeze the life out of a monster that at this point could not pose a threat anymore.

A minute later, the monster went still, either killed or unconscious from the lack of oxygen. Not wasting any time, Lance pinned it down on the floor and snapped its neck with his hands, hearing it crack.

“Clever, lad,” Thomas said, heading over towards Lance. Both were grinning from ear to ear at their victory. Compared to the rat monsters they had faced previously; these wolf monsters were quite challenging. When the others joined them, they would congratulate the greenhorns, even earnestly praising Thomas.

“Are you lads ready for another round, or have you seen enough action?” Matt asked before he noticed Thomas acting weird, his eyes wide, as if seeing and experiencing something incredible. The more experienced Rifters quickly understood what was happening; Level 10. For some, this moment was over in a split second, others went through something longer as they got their class. It was hard to describe to someone who had not been through it as well. Some experienced it as a memory or a dream of sorts, others felt as if their soul left their bodies and a bright light illuminated them from within. Whatever a Rifter experienced, each one would recall a strange and unnatural voice letting the Rifter know what class it assigned to them.

Thomas grabbed Lance and Matt by the shoulder and squeezed hard before saying out loud what he was seeing, “Lance... I levelled up. Lance, I bloody did it! I am level ten,” he said proudly before a barrage of questions came from Lance and Matt, with the other fighter speculating what type of class Thomas would get.

Matt prodded Thomas in the side. “What class did you get?”

“Thomas, tell us!” Lance asked, his own excitement nearly matching that of Thomas himself.

“I am…” Thomas said, stalling for a dramatic effect as he glanced at his status screen and viewed the signs that he levelled up. He had gotten new attribute points to spend, two new skills, as well as gained a class based upon his action since becoming a Rifter. “Warrior!” Thomas yelled. Afterwards, throwing up his arms in the air and yelled incoherent things together with Lance. It might have looked weird to the others, but both Lance and Thomas were cheering at something beyond a useful class or skill. Their cheers were echoing an oath they had sworn to one another after they had survived their first Rift. An oath that Thomas now had partially achieved; To never be as helpless as they had felt back then.

* * * * *

When the scouting party returned, word quickly spread that Thomas had ‘popped his cherry’. Most of them could understand the importance of that and were quick to celebrate him, offering words of wisdom or simply compliment him on the good class result.

Thomas’s grin never left his face, and all of this did wonders for his pride. He had already pestered Lance for a few pictures to commemorate the event. Most of them were of him standing over the corpse of the monster he had slain as he posed with Matt and the other fighters.

“Dude, enough,” Lance stated, his annoyance palpable in his tone.

“Come on, Lance, one more picture. For the family,” Thomas asked Lance, poking and prodding to demand his attention. Lance eventually gave in, no doubt realising Thomas was beyond saving at this point. One second his hand was empty, the next a smartphone was suddenly in his hand.

Widening his grin, Thomas then quickly took up his position on top of a small boulder, spreading his arms in a T pose. With his shield and pickaxe in hand, posing for his family. Lance’s camera then flashed once, capturing the moment.

“And done,” Lance said with as much enthusiasm as a stale piece of bread. The man had been forced to endure this for quite some time and his smartphone would no doubt be nearly bursting at the digital seams from all the pictures it now contained.

“You sure you got my good side?” Thomas asked, moving towards Lance to take a better look at the picture.

“You have a good side?” Lance feigned shock as he noticed Thomas trying to sneak a glimpse, wanting to see the phone up close. With a knowing smile, Lance moved backwards, preventing Thomas from snatching the phone from his hands.

“Lance, let me see,” Thomas protested.

“Honestly, it is fine,” Lance replied. A moment later, the phone transferred back into his inventory. A new Rifter started with a base 6 inventory slot and gaining an additional slot per level. At level seven, Lance now had 12 slots. At level 10, Thomas now had 15 slots available. Although the young men did not have that much in terms of items that they could carry with them, each slot potentially allowed them to store an item without ever fearing that said item could break, rust, or get stolen. With Lance’s phone, it would not run out of power within his inventory, as if frozen in.

“Relax Thomas. Even if I did mess it up, I could just send them a picture of a random monster and they wouldn’t notice the difference,” Lance said reassuringly, hoping to harass the man’s pride in a way that only best friends could.

“Not funny. Be sure to send it to me when we get back, okay?” Thomas insisted.

“Sure,” Lance said, no doubt knowing how important this was for Thomas. At this point Thomas was at a stage beyond mere arrogance, but even Lance knew that most of these photos would go to Thomas’s family. His younger brother, Oliver, had half his room covered with many Rift-related articles and several pictures of Thomas. His father had made a small shrine in the living room, next to Thomas’s boxing and rugby trophies he had gotten in the past.

“I am sure even my old man is going to be proud of this one,” Thomas said, satisfied.

“And your sister as well,” Lance added.

“Yeah, she would… wait… why did you mention my sister specifically?” Thomas asked, only to see Lance grin knowingly before the two of them burst out into laughter. Afterwards, they made their way just to the edge of their camp, sitting on one of the steel beams that functioned as a part of the walls.

“So, do you feel any different?” Lance asked, no doubt curious to hear from Thomas if there were any changes. Thomas had already explained that upon reaching level ten, he had gotten two new skills related to his class. Beyond that, his ascension to a warrior class had also boosted his stamina recovery and health pool.

“Stronger, perhaps more durable? Obviously even more attractive,” He joked, knowing full well what Lance meant. There was a heated debate within the Rifter community about whether a Rifter would gain a class depending on his personality and nature, or if upon gaining a class would shape the Rifter’s nature to better suit it. Holding up his hands to stop Lance from speaking, Thomas explained.

“I feel like I have always done. I have always had a short temper and don’t freeze up when facing danger head-on. The class of Warrior is a natural pick for me. I don’t know what else to tell you,” Thomas said, sharing what he could. He knew Lance would already be deep in thoughts, speculating about this or that. Thomas nudged him in the side before he continued.

“I don’t know what the effects of this class might do to me, but for now I am happy about it. I feel good, got new skills and honestly… a Warrior class is pretty much the best pick for me. Besides, look at Grace. She is a Mage, a class that is known for long-distance fighting and being calm and calculating in nature. Grace is anything but that. She is hot-headed, prefers fighting up close and is better at using a sword than anyone in this group,” Thomas said before he activated his inventory.

[You have retrieved an item from the inventory.]

“Like Grace, we make our own fate, right?” Thomas asked as he opened his hand, showing a cigarette pack, with one remaining. He jiggled it a before he threw it to Lance. “Let’s just focus on getting you to level ten as well. After that, we can finally have that one,” he said, reminding Lance of their promise.

Ever since Daniel had been training them, Thomas had stopped smoking regularly, save for the odd cigar with his father. The one cigarette now in Lance’s hand was one that had survived Thomas’s first Rift. It was half broken and dirty, but it held meaning for them. No doubt there were several more in Thomas’s old locker but that had gotten transported inside a Rift. Thomas had agreed to stop smoking and Lance had agreed to smoke ‘their’ last cigarette when they both got their class, marking them as true Rifters.

“You know that is going to kill you one day, right?” Lance asked with a disarming smile before giving it back to Thomas.

“Yeah, I know,” Thomas said, storing it back in his inventory and leaning against the steel beam, watching outwards and seeing Rifters patrolling their surrounding and checking the barricaded sections. “Speaking of things that might kill. Has that icy heart of yours finally opened up a bit to your brother?” Thomas said, afterwards he could have sworn he heard Lance rolling his eyes.

“Marcus and I need a bit more time,” Lance replied.

“Well, you already had several years to defrost. And let’s be honest, you wouldn’t even have replied to his text or brought him up to speed about you surviving a Rift if it had not been for me. Well, Daniel helped as well, but it was mostly me,” Thomas said, hoping to get the tone somewhat light-hearted, yet failing horribly after seeing Lance’s face remain as expressionless as always when someone mentioned Lance’s family. Thomas could understand the bits about Lance’s father, but he felt like Lance was overly harsh towards the older brother department.

“Lance… give the guy some slack. Your old man had his talons in him for years. Besides, the divorce was nasty, and Marcus was nearly graduating. I am sure he tried his best,” Thomas offered, hoping to make some progress. He knew full well how deep Lance’s resentment ran, losing half his family and moving to a different country, only to lose his mother a few years later to a horrible illness.

‘Still, just the fact that Lance did not immediately reply with the classic line -He could have at least made it to her funeral- was proof that he is at least warming up to the idea,’ Thomas thought, somewhat proud of his best friend. Thomas liked to tease and bully those that he loved, yet he never ever made a jab at Lance’s family. He could still remember Lance’s face during his mother’s funeral. That empty gaze Lance had at that moment had hurt Thomas more than any blow he had ever taken.

“People change, Lance. That I am saying this inside a monster-infested hellhole instead of a clean hospital proves my point,” Thomas said, throwing an arm around his friend and pulling him close. “Just give it a chance. You’re already a part of my family, so best-case scenario, you simply get an additional brother. And besides, if Marcus messes up, I’ll toss him in a Rift for you. Deal?” Thomas asked, seeing a small smile appear on Lance’s face. Lance was about to answer before Matt suddenly interrupted them as he jogged towards them.

“Lads! Grace needs us at the camp. She is going to explain the plan for securing the Rift-event and setting up base there,” Matt said, collecting both and leading them back to the camp.

When the three of them reached the others, they found Grace standing in the centre, drawing lines in the sand to create a map of the tunnel system they had already mapped out and comparing it to the information she had from the previous Rifter’s that had cleared this Rift. When she finished it, she looked each fighter and porter in the eyes, letting them see her resolve.

“Listen up, ladies. In two days from now, we will make our push to the Rift-event. There will be hostiles there. Both the Cave-wolves we have fought until now and a tougher foe. Information suggests that these tougher foes are intelligent, crafty and can use weaponry,” Grace explained as she let the words sink in.

Opponents such as those would be dangerous but collecting the weapons and armours from those monsters would prove highly profitable.

“You have read the reports from the GRRO about them and know what to expect. And, by popular choice, you dimwits have decided to name them ‘Cave-goblins’. Too bad for them, we outclass them in terms of skill and equipment. And beyond that, we have a trick up our sleeves,” Grace said before she lit a small fire on her palm, twisting her facial features in a dance between light and shadow. It made the scars on her face that much more pronounced and turned her reassuring smile into something diabolical.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2021 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2021