The Genesis Game

Chapter 4: Things Promised

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Apocalypse Hero

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The Genesis Game

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The Genesis Game: Volume II

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Essense Weaver

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Long before they reached the dungeon encampment, Pat could smell it. The collected human waste and hopelessness that emanated from the long foul trenches dug around the camp that doubled as cesspools. Noxious and repulsive, the stench was Pat's least favorite part about returning to his new home. Well, that's not entirely true. It's just one of many things I despise about this place.

The smell was not the only thing that bothered him. The closer Pat, Dale, and Luca got to the base camp near the entrance to the World Dungeon, the heavier Pat's sense of guilt became. But what could he do about it? Pat knew he had no choice in the matter. To resist orders would mean death, not just for him, but for his family as well. No matter what happened, no matter the amount of pity he felt towards the boy, nothing would change that. Neither of the two men could endanger themselves. Too many people depended on them. Pat's own sense of helplessness in the matter was cemented as they tried to pass through the checkpoint to enter the camp.

A bestial horned minotaur stepped towards them, its hooves shaking the ground with each step, as they tried to pass through the gate marking the camp's entrance. The brute raised a heavily muscled arm matted with black fur as it lifted and levied a gigantic poleax at them. The monster ordered in a low guttural tone for the three of them to stop. Pat and Dale both stopped where they were, and Pat set Luca down.

"He's just a boy, unconscious, and sick at that. We have reason to bring him," Dale explained, taking the lead as Pat struggled to find an answer. The man was distracted, casting a nervous and worried glance at the kid, hoping the minotaur would understand what the message they were trying to convey as they each pulled the hem and collar of their shirts aside to show off the brand they bore, his brand.

The brand embedded into the very skin and bone of their shoulders. After having seen the mark, the minotaur balked, quickly waving them through, not wanting to upset their master. The Bullman was already moving on to the next group, stopping a small family from seeking entry. Without a word, Pat picked Luca back up, slinging the boy over his shoulder and moved on.

The camp was a bustle of activity of moving bodies. Desperate-looking humans all bearing the mark of refugees huddled about in fear as demihumans roamed the camp freely. Pat pitied them even as they passed judgment upon him with their eyes full of hate. Blaming him and his yoke for all the suffering they had endured, and how could they not? They knew what he was doing with the boy and what was going to happen to the boy. They knew the monster that Pat had become and no good deed would absolve him of that. A few elves could be seen from positions of overwatch directing monsters as they emerged from the dungeon to seek out and rampage across the human world.

The two of them walked straight past the huddled refugees without saying a single word or sparing a look. If any of the refugees noticed the unconscious boy, they didn't say anything. Nobody had a moment of pity to spare any more for someone else, not even a child. Pat hated that. I guess it's just the way of things.

Pat and Dale didn't keep quarters with the rest of the humans; their families were afforded a level of safety and comfort that none of the other humans were allotted. With remorse, Pat looked away from the cl.u.s.tered people, casting his gaze instead down the road towards the entrance to the World Dungeon and the homes that had been built into the ruined shops of the mall. His home.

Breathing deep, Pat walked down the street, steeling himself for what was to come. His wife saw him first thankfully before his children did, greeting him with a wave and a smile, but Pat shook his head and motioned for his wife to usher the children away. They didn't need to know any of this, didn't need to see any of it, any of the number of things he did to keep them safe. Maybe one day, he wouldn't be able to protect them from the truth, but not yet.

Dale patted him on the shoulder. "Hey Pat, I'm going to head off, this one's on you, remember? If you know everything goes ok, you should bring the kids over later, and I know Sally would love the company. F.u.c.k it. If the kid ends up being ok, bring him too." Pat knew the lie when he heard it but fully planned on linking up with Dale later. After this ordeal, he was going to need a drink when the kids go down.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll be fine. They can always find a use for people," Pat responded unconvincingly, more to himself than anything as Dale walked away. Pat shifted his vision to look up ahead near the entrance to the World Dungeon, hoping against hope that he wouldn't see the one who had branded him. His hopes failed him. Pat closed his eyes for a second in resignation, his heart heavy as his stomach sank. One glance at the grisly trophies set about on the entrance of the dungeon was all Pat needed to see to motivate himself to do what he needed to be doing. A price had to be paid. No good deed goes unpunished.

Exhaling rapidly in nervous habit, Pat tried to steady his resolve. He checked on the kid, sensing that the boy's pulse was weak and his skin cold, clammy to the touch, but still very much alive for the moment and starting walking towards the elf. Pat was already committed to his obligations. There was nothing he could do but finish what he had started. Something he had started when he decided to save the boy from the back of the car rather than lead healthy survivors back to camp. Maybe the elf will give the kid a chance.

Pat knew it was unlikely but realized enough about himself to know he at least needed to hope for a decent outcome. In his aching arms, the kid began to stir the closer Pat came to the elf. "I found a survivor, Master Oeviss," Pat told the elf who had branded him. The elf was a monster in civilized clothing who dressed like an aristocrat of old. A monster for whom the very air surrounding him was tinged with malice and emanated dread power. In his presence, Pat's voice betrayed his fear of the elf. His arms were shaking as he presented the boy, holding him in a way for the elf to easily inspect the boy.

The elf moved about in examination, grabbing the boy's head, moving it from side to side as if grading the stock. With all the elf's probing and physical manipulations, the boy woke up before he could finish, screaming in panic, extremely disorientated from sickness, but knowing on an intuitive level that something was wrong. Master Oeviss, with a look of disgust, touched a finger to the boy's head, and the thrashing about ended as a spell of paralysis took hold in Luca's body. "Inferior, inferior stock, you've brought me a subpar offering, human. I'll continue to expect him, but I will not forget how you've managed to waste my time."

Giving the boy a second look-over, Oeviss flashed Pat a look of fury, the look causing Pat to recoil in fear, expecting the elf to lash out at him. "A cripple on death's door. That's what you've brought me? I've no use for a cripple. He's not even fit for the feeding pits. Just toss him into the dungeon," said the elf dispassionately before looking Pat directly in the eye. "Human, if you ever bring me trash like this again, it will be you and yours whose souls I consume."

With a nod in acknowledgment of his mistake and promises to not repeat the mistake, Pat grabbed the paralyzed boy as the child begged with eyes full of terror. Pat knew what those eyes said. Please, save me. Don't do this. Please don't. You're better than this. Pat had heard most of those words before.

By the time they had reached the front of the stone columns that made up the gateway, the paralysis had worn off. Pat was positive the elf had undone the spell, probably for amus.e.m.e.nt to add a degree of cruelty to the spectacle. The boy sobbed and pleaded for life, tearing at Pat's clothing in dire abandon.

But Pat had passed the point of caring, being forced to harden his heart. He wasn't a monster, he didn't want to do this, but his family would die otherwise. Pat touched his hand to the shimming portal of the gate, ignoring the boy's pleas for mercy, even as he gripped the boy tighter.

"I'm so sorry," Pat said as quietly as he could, hoping the crying child could hear him, and the elf wouldn't. Pat was trying to be as gentle as he could while still remaining firm in his resolve. Pat didn't want this to cause any more suffering then it needed to. Nothing about this was enjoyable. He tried to pull the boy off of him and cast him into the gate, but the boy began to wrap himself around him in the unshakable embrace of someone who knew they were doomed.

Pat finally lost his patience as Master Oeviss grinned, watching the scene unfold with ominous mirth from afar. A single blow from Pat's fist to the child's sides released the boy's death-like grip, and without reservation, Pat tore the child away from him, throwing him into the gateway to disappear to the wherever and whatever the portal led. The place Pat guessed to be the hellish inner world of the dungeon.

Turning around, Pat saw his daughter peeking her head out of the shelter. Whether she had seen what he did or not, Pat decided he didn't care. She was still alive, and that was enough to let him know he had made the right call, even as his conscience condemned him as a monster, and his mind agreed in his silent thoughts.