Bobby's boots dug into the cracked floor, driving him forward. All his weight, all his momentum, slammed into the heavy shield as it connected squarely with the staggering living corpse.
THUD!
The impact was solid. He drove the creature backward the last couple of steps, smashing it hard against the section of diner wall with the peeling, rippling wallpaper.
A sharp sizzle cut through the air, followed by a grinding, wet tearing sound. Where the corpse hit, the cheerful coffee cup wallpaper dissolved like wet paper, revealing the strange, reactive surface beneath.
It flowed and crackled with faint energy, strands of sickly light reaching out, wrapping around the rusted armor and desiccated flesh pressed into it.
The living corpse gave one final, shuddering heave, a rattling gasp escaping its helm, before going still. The reactive wall seemed to drink the energy bleeding from it, the blackish-green smoke vanishing into the churning surface.
Within seconds, the organic parts seemed to break down, absorbed or disintegrated by the wall itself.
What remained wasn't pretty. Twisted pieces of rusted plate armor, warped metal fragments that might have once been bone supports, all fused directly into the now-hardening wall surface like morbid decorations.
Bits of shattered metal littered the floor beneath. The massive greatsword, dropped during the impact, seemed to melt into a pool of useless, cooling slag on the floor before dissolving completely.
The immediate threat was finally over.
Bobby stepped back, lowering the shield, the muscles in his arm and shoulder screaming from the repeated impacts and the final charge.
He took a deep and ragged breaths, the air still thick with the smell of stale grease, burnt coffee, and now something faintly metallic and sharp from the wall.
Bobby leaned heavily against the edge of the speckled countertop, catching his breath. The adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. Every muscle fiber felt like it had been tenderized with a hammer.
[HOSTILE ENTITY NEUTRALIZED: CORPSEBOUND MERCENARY]
[VIEWER POINTS AWARDED: +350 Points]
[CURRENT POINTS: 750]
Three-fifty points. Felt like he earned 'em. He definitely felt the drain now. Gotta be running on fumes. He grunted, pushing himself upright slightly.He brought up the system shop, looked like something off an old arcade machine, blocky text and basic icons. He scrolled quickly past weapon dialogs and Betsy's sync status to the 'Consumables' tab. Found what he needed.
'Stamina Patch - Basic'. Cost: 100 Points. Looked like the best option available. He selected 'Confirm Purchase' on the display projected in his vision.
[POINTS DEDUCTED: -100]
[CURRENT POINTS: 650]
[ITEM PURCHASED: STAMINA PATCH (BASIC) x1]
A small, square, foil-backed patch materialized in his right hand with a faint shimmer. Looked like one of those nicotine patches folks used back home, but flimsier. He peeled off the backing and slapped it onto his neck.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, a tingling warmth spread outwards from the patch, sinking into his skin. It was followed a moment later by a noticeable surge of clean energy.
Like mainlining a pot of fresh, hot coffee without the jitters. His head cleared up, the eye floaters in his vision are gone, and the crushing fatigue from the ealier encounter eased considerably.
Though his muscles still ached, the feeling of imminent collapse finally receded.
"Ah..." Bobby sighed, rolling his neck. "Much better. Like a double shot of espresso straight to the bloodstream."
"See? Those viewers ain't just freeloaders watchin' ya get beat on," Betsy's voice came through, sounding pleased. "Spend those points wisely, sugar. Never know when you'll need another pick-me-up, or maybe somethin' with a bit more kick."
Right. No time to waste admiring the wall art or chatting about space-magic energy drinks. He gave Rigg, who was still peeking wide-eyed from behind the booth, a short nod. Time to move.
Bobby straightened up fully, feeling the lingering warmth from the patch chasing away the aches. He gripped his sword and shield again, the familiar weight is quite reassuring.
He glanced one last time at the embedded wreckage, then turned towards the fake kitchen doors where the wall had done its weird dissolving act. That seemed like the only way forward now.
Rigg scrambled out from behind the booth, casting a final, wary look at the remains fused to the wall, then hurried to follow Bobby, lantern held high again.
They pushed through the swinging doors – which felt surprisingly solid despite the mimicry – and stepped out of the unsettling diner facsimile.
The environment changed instantly, drastically. The flickering lights, the greasy smell, the buzzing hum are all gone. They were back in a section of the anomaly's sterile metal corridor, the kind that felt like the inside of some giant, forgotten machine.
But this section was heavily damaged. Cracks spiderwebbed across the smooth walls, floor, and ceiling, some hairline thin, others wide enough to stick a fist in. And snaking out from these cracks, covering huge sections of the metal surface, were thick, dark, fleshy roots.
They pulsed with a faint, slow, inner light, a sickly bioluminescence that did little to pierce the gloom. The roots seemed to be actively consuming the metal, burrowing into it, integrating with it, replacing the sterile structure with something organic.
The air grew heavy, damp, and filled with a earthy, fungal smell that reminded Bobby vaguely of turning over soil that had sat wet for too long, mixed with something else... something vaguely like spoiled meat. Rigg's lantern light seemed to be noticeably dimmer here again, the darkness punctuated only by the faint pulsing of the roots themselves. The sterile silence of the anomaly was gone too, replaced by a faint, wet, squelching sound, a rhythmic pulsing that seemed to echo the light within the roots.
They moved forward cautiously, the root-choked corridor forcing them into single file in places. Thinner, dangling roots brushed against Bobby's shoulders and arms like dead fingers.
He used the tip of his sword to carefully push aside a curtain of the thinner roots blocking the path, eyeing the thick, trunk-like ones snaking across the floor and walls warily. They looked disturbingly like veins or arteries, pulsing slowly. "Place is turnin' into a damn sausage garden," he muttered, stepping carefully over a thick root bulging from the floor.
"Garden of nightmares, maybe," Betsy replied, her voice tight. "System's pickin' up weird signatures from these things. Somethin' about 'em feels real grabby. Keep your distance, hon."
Rigg stopped near a particularly thick root snaking across the wall at chest height. It was dark brown, almost black, with a slick, leathery texture. He leaned in close, observing the faint pulse traveling along its length, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
After a moment, Bobby pulled himself away from it, looking unsettled.
"They feel… hungry," he whispered, his voice hushed with unease, . "And they ain't like any blight I ever seen back home. Blight kills things. This is... different. It's growing. Alive in the wrong way."
Bobby didn't like the look of that one bit. "Let's keep moving."
They pressed on, the corridor twisting slightly. Ahead, the oppressive walls seemed to fall away. The tight passage suddenly opened up into a much larger space, a wide cavern.
It was worse in here. The cavern was completely choked with the same type of fleshy roots, covering the floor, the walls, and the ceiling in a dense, pulsating, living mass. It was like standing inside the decomposing heart of some colossal beast.
The air was even heavier here, thick with the damp, fungal smell and the hint of rotting flesh.
As they took a hesitant step into the cavern, movement began within the tangled root masses ahead and to the sides.
With wet, tearing sounds, humanoid shapes started pulling themselves free from the pulsating growth. Formed crudely from lengths of knotted, dark wood bound together with thick, fleshy roots, they looked like monstrous, walking compost heaps. They groaned, their stiff limbs creaking, moving with a shambling, relentless gait. Empty spaces in their "heads" glowed faintly with the same sickly light as the roots.
[NEW HOSTILE SIGNATURES DETECTED: ROOTBOUND THRALL (x3)]
Three of the things immediately turned their blank, glowing faces towards Bobby and Rigg. They began advancing out of the root mass, arms outstretched, some dragging root "legs," others with thorny root-tendrils extending from their malformed bodies like grasping claws.
Bobby quickly planted his feet on a relatively clear patch of root-covered floor, shield coming up just as the first Thrall got within striking distance.
These things moves slowly, but their attack are fast, and the tangled floor was treacherous.
Bobby launched a wide, horizontal sweep with his sword, slicing through the first Thrall's grasping tendrils and knocking its crude arm aside. He followed through instantly with a heavy shield bash forward into its chest, sending it staggering back into the pulsing roots with a crackle of breaking wood.
Before he could fully recover, the second Thrall was already on him, swinging a thick, club-like root limb.
Meanwhile, Rigg, though visibly terrified by the groaning, shambling figures, didn't freeze. His eyes darted around, landing on a loose piece of twisted metal debris near the cavern wall – maybe a chunk of the original anomaly structure ripped loose by the roots. Thinking quickly, he scrambled over to it, pulled out his knife, and started banging the hilt rhythmically against the metal.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The sharp, metallic noise cut through the wet squelching and groaning. It immediately drew the attention of the third Thrall, which had been lumbering towards Bobby's exposed flank. Its head swiveled towards the sound, and it began to change direction, shambling towards Rigg instead.
Rigg dodged back, keeping the noise going, his eyes wide but focused. Seeing it worked, he scooped up a loose stone with his free hand and hurled it at the Thrall, smacking the distracted Thrall hard in the knee joint.
One good thing, these walking weeds were a hell of a lot less tough than the last guy.
The creature stumbled, its already awkward gait faltering, giving Rigg space and buying Bobby precious seconds as he dealt with the second one now right in front of him.
"Alright, look alive! Time for some weed-whackin'!" Betsy's voice crackled with energy. "Keep 'em off Rigg! Don't let 'em corner the kid!"
Bobby grunted, batting aside the second Thrall's clumsy swing with his shield before bringing his sword down hard on its "shoulder," severing the limb with a wet crunch. It barely seemed to notice the damage, just kept pressing forward, forcing Bobby back another step.
He didn't give it another chance, sidestepping its lunge and driving his sword point-first through the center of its root-woven torso. The creature shuddered violently, the faint light within it extinguished, and collapsed into a heap dead wood and vines.
He immediately spun towards the third Thrall, the one Rigg was keeping occupied near the wall. The kid was doing a good job, banging on the metal debris and dodging the creature's slow, grasping swipes, but he wouldn't last forever.
The Thrall, still hampered by the rock Rigg had pegged it with, turned awkwardly as Bobby approached. He charged forward, shield high, slamming into the stumbling Thrall with another heavy bash.
The sound of splintering wood echoed in the cavern as the third creature crumpled under the impact, falling apart into loose roots and deadwood that quickly stilled.
Silence, for a heartbeat. Bobby stood panting, sword dripping slightly, shield arm aching. He glanced at Rigg, who had stopped banging on the metal and was breathing heavily, eyes wide.
But the silence didn't last. He could hear it now – more wet, tearing sounds echoing from deeper in the cavern, louder this time, multiplied.
[WARNING: MULTIPLE HOSTILE SIGNATURES DETECTED - ESCALATING]
More groaning shapes were pulling themselves free from the roots along the walls, their faint lights bobbing like malevolent will-o'-wisps in the oppressive dimness.
Not just a few, dozens more pairs of those faint, glowing eyes ignited in the darkness all around them, covering the caverns with their hungry lights.
A tide of corrupted wood and hungry roots rising from the dark, sealing off the way forward.