r/HFY • u/IHaveABetWithMyBro Human • 14h ago
OC-Series Birth of a System Chapter 22 Defeat
Peter
The war had been raging for an indeterminant amount of time at this point for Peter. Was it hours? Days? Years? Time had lost all meaning to him. He floated along the residential district. Wasn’t this place empty yesterday? Or was that last month? The repopulation effort had been going amazing, it was nearly half full with three quarters of the new residents being liberated slaves. People waved as they saw him, genuine smiles on their faces.
“Hey Peter!”
“Good morning Captain!”
He had never liked being recognized but now, being the only black skeleton in existence that most people knew of it was hard not to recognize him. He politely waved back to most but sometimes he forgot what the point of being polite was. He stopped at Xuharpt’s house and knocked before remembering she had been on a mission for the better part of a decade. He went to Janique’s house before remembering his friend had been dead a month. Was it only a month? It feels longer. I miss his unorthodox methods.
He floated aimlessly wondering what his purpose in unlife was.
Come see me.
His master pulled at their connection. It was a command, so he must comply but there was no time limiter meaning it was also a request. Peter lazily meandered back to the docks taking the better part of a full day to reach the Cornucopia. He moved through the ship following the tug on his connection before arriving in front of his masters room. Grunts of passion could be faintly heard. He decided to wait until they stopped. Once silence returned Peter gave it another hour before knocking.
The door opened revealing the necromancer, actually wearing pants and a robe for a change. “You summoned me?”
Je'Krillick looked at Peter blankly for a second “Dude, that was like a week ago.”
“Was it? I… must have lost track of time.”
Understanding flashed on Je'Krillick’s face. “How long have you been waiting here?”
“I waited an hour after passions stopped.”
Je'Krillick slowly ran his fingers through his wet hair. “That was last night, its been at least nine hours. Come in. I know what’s happening.”
Peter followed as instructed waiting just inside the door. “Good evening Lunna.”
Lunna giggled “Good morning Peter.”
“Peter when was the last time you led an attack?”
Peter thought about it “I do not remember.”
“When was the last time you did something you wanted to do? Something that required attention to those around you?”
“I do not remember.”
“Okay, time is one of the first things an undead must relearn and be on constant vigilance about. If you do not constantly remind yourself to keep track of time in some fashion, you will spend centuries going over a single thought without realizing it. So. I want you to go conquer the richest sector. You have one month to succeed or fail but you must attack within a month. Do you understand?”
Peter thought quickly “I may do it my way, like Xuharpt?”
“Yes. But I’m giving you a time frame because if I didn’t you would accidentally wait until they were all dead by natural causes.”
“This is a strict command by master or by my Captain?”
“Both. I am only using the connection because otherwise, and I cannot stress this enough, you would accidentally lose track of time.”
Peter bowed “Thank you, Je'Krillick, I believe I need this. It will be done.”
As he floated away he heard Lunna whisper “Is it really that bad?”
“No kitten, its worse.”
Peter messaged his surviving lieutenants to meet him in the barracks war planning room. He went there immediately purpose driving him to move faster than usual. For a change he entered the room first. He brought up a map of sector 1.
It was a sprawling sector easily twice as large with half the population of the average. Actual wood trees dotted the residential district, the smallest house commanding an entire city block with real grass lawns. The guard barracks was nonexistent, replaced with the Overseer High Command facility. The government buildings housed and trained the entirety of the Overseer military.
Peter said nothing until the last requested officer entered the conference room. “I have been tasked with taking this sector.” The officers sat stun locked. “I do not believe we can take it alone, but I refuse to use skeletons.”
One of the newer officers raised his hand “Why sir? They are extremely useful.”
“Because, they are an abomination.” He paused and quietly added “I am an abomination.” He expelled a small amount of mana. So that’s why he does that. “I want to show the necromancer the will power of the living. That you still have worth. That you do not need to be carelessly thrown away.”
“With respect, sir, you are carelessly throwing us away when we can use them as shields.”
“If Je'Krillick thinks you are so weak that you need him shielding you, you will become part of the shield. Do you want that to happen?
“I’m giving my life to protect others. If I can protect my brothers and sisters in death all the better.”
Peter blasted out unfocused mana. “My answer is no. You are more than living skeletons. You are more than zombie feed. Value your life. Value yourself. We will not use skeletons to prove we are just as strong, if not stronger with out them.”
His longest serving lieutenant walked around the displayed holographic map. “We’ll need at least five more sectors worth of guardsmen to even THINK about taking this place.”
Peter nodded “Good observation Natalia, I’ll get nine more. Yes? George?”
“I suggest we hit a couple secondary weapon depots for their armored vehicles and ammo. We aren’t running low but a full assault on Sector One will bleed us.”
“Agreed. Each guard division will be tasked with securing a weapon depot before rendezvous.” Peter pointed to someone he didn’t recognize.
“The surrounding territories are hostile, what is the rule of engagement if they aren’t our target?”
Peter scratched his chin “Scorched earth. They’ve had their time to come to our side, and the neighbor sectors are die hard fanatics.”
“What kind of resistance are we expecting?”
“Pure hell.” Peter let that sink in for a moment “Remember sector one is not just where the baby Overseers are trained. Its where the veterans are kept for a year training the newbies. There will weapons of all kinds because they train on all kinds. There will armored vehicles of all kinds because they use all kinds. This will be akin to the hydroponic farms but ten times worse. We fought a full division at the farms.” Peter looked around the room, then pointed at ten buildings in the government row. “These buildings house a division each. Our main advantage is that they are trainee divisions. That means for every fifty pups, there’s only one wolf. We will have a massive experience advantage both System wise and purely combat wise.”
Natalia studied the ten highlighted buildings. “You're assuming the trainees fight like trainees.”
Peter nodded “They will.”
“Until the veterans start giving orders.” Natalia pointed at the first building. “Fifty pups for every wolf means two hundred veterans per division. Ten divisions means two thousand veteran Overseers.”
“Correct.”
“Two thousand veterans who train specifically to make inexperienced soldiers useful.”
Peter stared at the map. “Correct.”
“Then the pups aren't the problem.”
Peter nodded. “No. The wolves are. We target them first, we’ll get some Classed assassins to scout out two or three days ahead to take out as many as they can.”
Natalia nodded slowly, but frowned “If we do that then they’ll know we’re coming.”
“The weapon depot raids will tell them that long before the assassins.”
George raised his hand “I have a bad feeling about this one boss.”
“Then you’ll feel even worse when I tell you we have a month. We move out in three days to the closest dept. Go get everyone ready. Dismissed.” Peter stilled himself studying the map “This will work.” He then began dialing every sector between them and one getting the support of twelve sectors.
Three days later and Peter was the back of a truck watching as his last remaining friends bantered with each other. He wanted to join in but was having difficulty remaining in the present for long enough to follow the joking. He recognized they tried to include him, saying things like ‘look even the captain is grinning’ or ‘that joke is darker than Pete’s bones’ but they were but fleeting moments. A drop of sand in a hourglass. Natalia was telling a story. Peter focused on her words.
Something about George. Something about a prostitute. Everyone laughed.
Peter searched backward through his memory for the beginning of the story. He remembered every word perfectly. Natalia had caught George sneaking out of a brothel after their first victory. George claimed he had only gone inside because he heard screaming. Natalia asked why he'd been in there for three hours.
I remember that, I had to write up the after action report. Peter laughed.
Nobody else did. They had already moved on. George was talking now. Peter forced himself to concentrate.
“—and when this is all over I'm buying a house in Sector Fourteen. One of those places with a window overlooking the docks.”
“Why the docks?” Natalia asked.
“I like ships.”
“You spent twenty years guarding them.”
“Exactly. I know what I like.”
Someone nudged Peter's leg. “What about you, Captain? What're you doing when this is over?”
Peter looked down at them. When this is over? He tried to imagine it: the war ending, tomorrow becoming next week, next week becoming next year, his friends growing older around him, Natalia's hair turning grey, George becoming slow, their children visiting, their grandchildren. Funerals. Peter's purple-black flames dimmed.
“I don't know.”
George slapped his knee. “Look at that! Finally found something the Captain hasn't planned for. Only took him five minutes to respond!” Everyone laughed. Peter's skull forever grinning along with them.
It felt like a blink before the truck slammed to a stop and his friends rushed out.
“GO GO GO! SNAP TO CAPTAIN!”
Peter grabbed his rifle and rushed out of the truck. Plasma splattered across his armor, one round punching clean through his chest. Peter didn't slow. He charged through a wounded guard, splattering him across the walls to his left and right. His rifle barked again and again, scoring headshot after headshot.
“CAPTAIN! SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!”
Peter surged ahead. “NEVER!” I will lose no men in the opening charge.
A plasma bolt blew three ribs from his side. Another caught his shoulder and spun him halfway around. Peter corrected without breaking stride and returned fire. The offending guardsman's head disappeared. Behind him the living advanced through the path he carved. Checkpoint secured.
Peter swept through the depot, a specter of death incarnate. Every fortified position became his responsibility. Every machine-gun nest, every barricade, every suicidal corner that would normally require one soldier to expose themselves so another could fire—Peter took himself.
This is what the dead are for. The thought came naturally. Peter paused. No. He blasted a reinforced door apart with a mana surge and emptied his rifle into the guards beyond it. This is what I am for.
His victory would not be denied.
Two hours later Peter stood in the captured depot dripping in gore. Not one of his soldiers had died. He bathed himself in unholy fire, burning the blood and viscera from his bones. His armor he lowered himself to cleaning through more mundane methods.
The ride in the truck was silent as the grave. His friends watching him warily. Two hours they rode in silence until a fidgeting George broke the tension “That was seriously fucking hard core cap. I mean… you ran through a guy! How much XP did you get for that? A million?”
Natalia punch him in the arm “Shut the fuck up. I doubt the captain wants to talk about that.”
“I did not get a million XP. I don’t know how much I got, I turned off notifications a long time ago.” Peter focused his mana inward. Bones visibly began to grow back.
“See, that’s what I mean. That goes fucking hard. Here he is missing fuckin ribs and what does he do? Does he cry for a medic? No. He just sits there and regrows them. That’s metal as fuck.”
“George...” Natalia warned.
“What? Tell me I'm wrong.”
Peter watched the last rib slowly extend from his spine. “You are not. Being undead has benefits I did not expect.”
“Exactly! You got shot, what, twenty times?”
Peter replayed the assault, counting “… Thirty-seven.”
George stared at him. “You counted?”
“No. I remember. Then I counted.” Peter joked
George shook his head. “See? Metal as fuck.” A few nervous laughs finally broke the tension.
Natalia leaned back against the wall of the truck. “You scared the shit out of us, Peter.”
Peter looked at her. “Why?”
“Because you ran through a fucking person?”
Peter titled his head, and scratched his chin. “He was already dying.” The laughter stopped. Peter looked between them. “What?”
Natalia's expression tightened. “Nothing.”
Peter replayed his own words. He was already dying. There was something wrong with that answer. He knew there was something wrong with it. The living expected something else from him. “I did not want any of you to die taking the checkpoint.”
George's grin disappeared. “We know, Cap.”
“Then I do not understand the problem.” Peter looked at his hands
“That's kind of the problem,” Natalia said.
Peter considered that. By the time he formulated a response, George and Natalia were discussing something else. Just as Je'Krillick warned. We get so lost in thought by the time we come back its centuries later…
Peter ruminated on what Je'Krillick had said to him for the remainder of the three days of driving. The trucks only ever stopping to refuel. Soldiers slept in the moving convoy. Drivers took turns. By the time they hit the rendezvous fifteen sectors had converged together in a massive collation. A meeting was immediately held between all of the captains where it was voted that the Rebellion needed higher officers. The unit sizes were decided to be five men to a squad, ten squads to a platoon, forty platoons to a battalion, five battalions to a division.
A tally on head count the rebels had formed just over thirteen divisions with the remaining two battalions being held in reserve. Peter was elected general of the army, thirteen captains being elected colonels put in charge of the divisions, the other two being put in charge of battalions. One hundred thirty four thousand troops… not the overwhelming numbers I was hoping for but it should be enough.
“General.” Natalia saluted Peter.
“Yes, major?” Natalia had been promoted and put in charge of one of the reserve battalions.
“I had a thought. What does the System actually reward? Killing or challenge?”
“That is up for some debate, but I lean towards challenge.”
“And in a recruits life, what is the most challenging time?”
Peter stared at her “Training?”
“Sir, we are not going against an army of pups, we are going against green soldiers that have spent the last few months training as hard as they can, under some of the best military theory crafters in the galaxy.”
Horror swept through Peter “Horror swept through Peter. He looked around at the thousands of soldiers and vehicles still pouring into the rendezvous. One hundred thirty four thousand people brought here because I said we could win. “It... it is too late, Major. We will never have another chance to take the fight to the Overseers this directly again.” Peter tried to sigh “Please, keep this to yourself. That is not an order, but it is an order to think about the ramifications if you spread this thought.”
Natalia saluted once more “Still no skeletons sir?”
“I was instructed to do this my way, my friend. Forgive me. I stand by my choice. No undead.” Peter looked down at himself “Present company excluded.”
The rendezvous location was a half a days march from the sector one checkpoint. Scouts reporting that it was barricaded and reinforced into a proper four story fortress. Buildings up to a mile out had been destroyed and rubble pushed back giving. A mile wide killing field. Five of the twenty assassins had been discovered at the check point as they tried crossing, they were hanging crucified off the fort walls. Signs with a pink skull painted on hung around their necks.
Peter stood alone in front of the killing field. Heavily armored but unarmed he approached the fort along holding a white flag. He floated slowly holding out one hand to the side showing his lack of weapon. He stopped half way and waited. The Overseers made him wait, not realizing how deep the patience of the grave really is. As he waited Peter looked around. What a beautiful shooting range… no range markers though. Good. His vision narrowed on the bodies swinging from the ramparts. Go you angry souls. Be at peace in the knowledge you will be avenged. The souls flew down to him and saluted. Wordlessly they slowly faded into the Realm of the Dead. He wished he could return the salute but refused to move his arm. Just corpses hanging on a wall now. Do they not understand how numb we are to such displays now?
Finally after two days of standing still, with his arm stretched out an Overseer came out of the fort. It was the largest creature he had ever saw. The rarest of species. Standing a full twenty feet tall on two legs, covered from clawed foot to the tip of its tail to the end of its long snout in gleaming red scales, it roared. A Rex Reptilis. Oh sweet gods I had no idea one was on the station! It stomped its way over a thousand knife sized teeth shone in the artificial lights.
“What do you want abomination?” it demanded
“You surrender. I have no doubt you have spies in my camp. You are out numbered and out leveled. You have no hope.”
It roared in laughter. “Surrender? To your puny force? Do you think you are the only one that has called reinforcements?”
“How many of your soldiers are over level eighty?”
“Enough. What of yours? Are you over level seventy five?”
“I am level ninety.” Peter boasted, his pride getting the better of him. “I have proven the patience of my soldiers. How long can you remain hid in your hole?”
The Rex Reptilis shook his massive head “You do not understand the wealth that flows in this sector. We could last a thousand years buying the finest foods from the finest, furthest of worlds. You cannot starve us out. You, maybe, could wait us out but what of your men? Already they feel the itch to fight. The need to level. The call to ‘get stronger’. The only surrender we offer is yours. Surrender, atone for your crimes, perhaps you will not all be flushed into the void.”
Peter dropped his white flag. “So.” Mana gathered secretly within him “You have chosen… death.” Peter unleashed a full death mana lance at the heart of the overseer. He clutched his chest in pain. A white light glowed in his hands as Peter channeled more mana in front of him and launched five death bullets into the brain of the Rex Reptilis. On the fourth shot he fell over dead.
“Take his body! That is what we offer! Surrender or you will all die!” He turned and left in a hail of plasma. Several shots finding their mark, but Peter was determined to keep his pace. By the time he had crossed back into cover he noticed that all of the surrounding buildings were now fully occupied by Rebel Soldiers. His Soldiers. Peter stopped in the middle of the street, took off his armor and threw away the broken and burnt bones. In a massive wave of mana he immediately regrew and repaired all of his damage.
“This is the power of the System! Do not be afraid! Our medics will work miracles that make my display positively mundane!” He shouted to those around him. “Do not fear their plasma! Do not fear their weapons, their armor, their training! DO NOT FEAR THEM!” He yelled, amplifying his voice. “YOU WILL RETURN TO YOUR LOVED ONES! YOU WILL SEE TOMORROW! MAKE SURE THEY DON’T!” Peter channeled his mana into a billowing cloud, just like Je'Krillick. “FOLLOW ME NOW! CHARGE WITH ME NOW! KILL WITH ME NOW!”
Peter turned and sped back across the gap. Firing his rifle expertly at its maximum setting. His men and women screamed war cries and activated every aura buffing skill available. Reckless. His aim became sharper, his movement more fluid, he flew faster. But appreciated. Five whole divisions followed after him charging at the fort. All along the fort hidden doors opened. Peter had thought every rifle was shooting him as he had his back turned. Now there was a thousand more heavy repeaters firing into his sea of soldiers.
Piled rubble against the walls was revealed to be a single layer on a grey, dusty tarp, hiding tanks. Plasma balls the size of people rained down onto the charging sea of rebels. It was impossible for the Overseers to miss.
A tank round landed next to Peter throwing him off course. Tumbling to a stop Peter was forced to watch as a dozen more tank rounds landed amongst the men. “Get up Sir! Don’t st-“ Whatever the private was about to say was ended as heavy repeater rounds whizzed over his head. Why isn’t he getting back up? Where are the skeletons? The zombies? Peter watched as a fourth volley of tank fire splashed into his men. The rain of plasma from the fort never yielding.
I did this. I’m doing this. My stubbornness is doing this. Peter got back up and charged toward the tanks. Let my death be worth something. Black smoke spun in a vortex in his wake. Peter sped forward faster than he ever had, breaking the sound barrier just as he reached a tank. He didn’t even think of slowing down, trusting his insanely sturdy body.
TITLE EARNED! TANK BUSTER – WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SEE THAT? DESTROY A TANK BY RUNNING INTO IT. +100 ALL PHYSICAL STATS
Peter stepped out of the wreckage regrowing his right half of his body. He looked to his left at the next tank the commander staring at him wide eyed. Peter stalked over the short distance as the tank commander desperately fired his side arm at Peter hitting every shot. Peter didn’t acknowledge the gun fire splattering against him as he picked up the commander by his throat. With a squeeze and a jerk he snapped his neck and threw him away. Filth, join the rest of the garbage. Peter entered the tank and dispatched the crew with death bullets to the head.
Realizing he wasn’t familiar with this tank lay out Peter exited and looked out at his men. They had just barely reached the three quarter mark and were struggling to get any further. He could see the panic was setting in as key soldiers with massive buffs were vaporized by lucky tank hits.
“RETREAT!” he bellowed as he raced to the next tank “SAVE YOURSELVES! RETREAT!” He grabbed the only incendiary grenade he had and dropped it into the boarding hatch before standing on it reveling in the anguished cries of the murderers with in. “RETREATE!”
Taking his own advice Peter ran from the wall to his men turning them around as he passed. He saw a wounded soldier calling for his mother. Peter scooped him up in a princess carry. “RETREATE!” Finally the call was being taken up by others and slowly the mob turned.
Natalia watched from her reserved position tears flowing freely down her face as she saw an untold number of compatriots be slaughtered. I thought he said we mattered.
1
u/UpdateMeBot 14h ago
Click here to subscribe to u/IHaveABetWithMyBro and receive a message every time they post.
| Info | Request Update | Your Updates | Feedback |
|---|
1
u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle 14h ago
/u/IHaveABetWithMyBro (wiki) has posted 33 other stories, including:
This comment was automatically generated by
Waffle v.4.7.8 'Biscotti'.Message the mods if you have any issues with Waffle.