Some of the quests that the system gives have multiple solutions, while others seemingly have none.

  - UWO Lieutenant Colonel Aramfa -

  It’s been a day since we first entered the gate. There haven’t been any more waves of dragonflies. There is however a growing stench from the rapidly rotting corpses of the fallen ones. People have understandably begun to question Lieutenant Tenny’s idea for using them as fortifications. I’m not one of them. It’s a good strategy.

  Most of the soldiers and off-worlders have now joined up with Dorliac’s group to help search.

  “That one looks like an elephant!” Tran yells to Barlow over the noise from the helicopter.

  “Nah, like a Giraffe!” Barlow bellows back.

  I’m not going to say what I think it looks like.

  “What about that one?” Tran asks.

  “Definitely a Turtle!”

  They’ve been playing this idle game for a while now. We’re headed toward the search grid. No one’s found the quest objective yet. Mace of the Ardent Flame. Sounds badass, it might be a rare item. I’d be more excited about the prospect of finding it if the circumstances were different. Three have died since we arrived. Two soldiers and an off-worlder. Doesn’t feel good, especially getting glimpses of their memories. One of them was a mother…

  “You okay?” Barlow asks me.

  I nod. Giving a fake smile. The only thing I can do for the fallen now is carry the torch.

  “He’s just worried about Cortez and you know who!” Tran yells over the noise.

  At least he has the sense to not say our Platoon Leader’s name in front of other people. The helicopter we are riding on is quite literally stuffed like a sardine can filled with soldiers. Tran’s not entirely wrong though, I am worried. Cortez’s squad was sent last night to help with Dorliac’s mission. More and more of us are being shuffled over. Hopefully we find it soon.

  ***

  As we disembark the helicopter, I notice an acrid smell in the air. Wafting in waves of foul stench, made worse by the helicopter blades.

  “Fuck that’s rough,” Tran gags.

  “Yeah,” I say, pulling my free arm to my nose, “Really wish I’d brought a bandana or something.”

  “Same,” Barlow groans.

  I had packed one, but they didn’t let us take our rucksacks on the heli. My aid bag was one of the few exceptions they did let on. I could use some gauze, but that would be a waste of supplies.

  “Fucks sake,” Barlow groans.

  Looking over, I see his foot halfway down a wet stinking hole. This entire area is unlike the rest of the world we’ve seen so far. It’s not cotton candy clouds here. It’s rancid soupy swampland. I hear croaking in the distance. Like a big croak. I'm not sure I want to know what made it. I have more than enough nightmare fuel.

  “Alright shitbirds, let’s move,” our squad leader, Sergeant Gilroy the turd extraordinaire says.

  “Hooah, Sergeant,” we reply, albeit very unenthusiastically.

  Gilroy rolls his eyes, pointing his knife hand forward.

  Of all the NCOs that I’ve met, he is by far the pettiest mother fucker I know. Sergeant First Class Romero might have him beaten in the asshole Olympics. But no one, and I really mean no one will ever come close to his petty bastard records. He’s the type of NCO that… well it doesn’t matter, he’s a petty prick. Although thinking on it again, Ulana might be a top contender for his throne of pettiness. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like she can read my thoughts. If I were to say that out loud though…

  Gilroy trudges behind us, making us clear the brambling path of vines from his way. Thankfully the boggy path is mostly cleared. A line of glowsticks marks the trail on either side.

  A couple hundred meters later and we are looking up at a ridiculously large… well, honestly I don’t know what to call it. Vines tangle in the thick canopy above, I can’t see the top, the fog is too thick. In front of us looks like the base of a tree, but it’s very clearly not a tree. It reminds me of a plant stalk, except larger than a building. Striated lines run upwards deep into the fog. Thick bristled hairs curl on the sides of it. It’s as thick as a skyscraper, maybe bigger, hard to tell with all the vines hanging around the base of it.

  “Holy shit,” Gilroy says, shifting his helmet back as he cranes his neck upward, “That’s a big ass plant.”

  “Damnit!” Tran yells.

  Snapping my attention over, I see his leg is calf-deep in a swamp hole. Barlow mutters swear words as he heaves him out.

  “Eww, what the fuck…” Tran says, shaking off his boot. There is some kind of big finger-sized larva undulating on his leg which he swats away.

  “Quit whining,” Gilroy whines, pointing to the concentration of glowsticks in the distance.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Roger, Sergeant,” Tran says, once he’s a little further away he mutters, “Fucking dickhead.”

  It takes us a minute to climb up the sloped hill toward the large concentration of glowsticks, all around an entrance into the colossal plant. It’s a sort of natural depression in the plant wall that snakes inwards. Like the stalk split at some point and managed to seal back together, mostly.

  As we push through the entry tunnel, I get a familiar sensation crawling up my spine.

  [ 1 x Wither Charge Gained ]

  Did someone die? I wait for the memories to flow, but all I get is a single grainy image of the swamp. The owner of the memory fragment makes itself known to me once I push past the entrance. A large, very freshly dead toad… or maybe a frog? I’m not good with that stuff. Anyway, it’s dead, I think it’s how I got my charge. It's also very slimy and disgusting-looking. Six eyes, and some weird antennae that curl and have a bulb at the end. Roughly the size of two men stuffed in a frog suit.

  “Holy beanstalk…” Barlow says, eyes looking skyward.

  Following his gaze, I peer upward, eyes widening as I do. At least a thousand meters into the air, the stalk continues, entirely hollow, except for the random hairs on the sides. Light shimmers through it, creating distorted patterns of light everywhere.

  “Specialist Novak, on me,” a familiar voice calls out, Staff Sergeant Mwangi.

  “Moving, Sergeant.”

  He looks me up and down, “How are your supplies?”

  “Fully restocked, Sergeant.”

  “Good, Lt wants to see you.”

  “She does?”

  He gives me a weird look, probably because that was a weird answer.

  “Roger, Sergeant, moving.”

  I move past him, but he fake coughs.

  “You okay Novak?”

  “Fine, Sergeant.”

  “You didn’t ask where to find her,” he says, folding his arms and squinting at me.

  He points off in the distance shaking his head. Tran and Barlow try to follow me, but he holds up a hand for them, pointing them toward the groups heading out to search.

  As I walk over and wait for her to finish receiving briefs from Sergeants, thoughts keep playing in my head. Thoughts about what the Cleric said. Not about the cactus, but about who will heal her if she gets wounded.

  “Specialist Novac,” Dorliac says, moving toward me, dismissing the rest of the group.

  “Ma’am,” I say, going to attention.

  “At ease,” she says, then looking me up and down, “How are your supplies?”

  “Topped off, ma’am.”

  “Good, dismissed.”

  That’s it? That’s all she wanted? To double check what Mwangi already double-checked.

  “Is there something else?” she asks after seeing my hesitation.

  “Ma’am, I just wanted to let you know, that after this mission, I’m requesting a formal change in position.”

  She blinks at me, like a long blink.

  “Because?”

  “So our platoon can get a new healer.”

  “They already have me.”

  “And if you wear yourself down healing someone, who’s going to lead?”

  “Are you lecturing me on command, soldier?” her tone is sharp, more of a warning.

  “No, ma’am, regardless, I’m reporting myself.”

  “Why now? Why after everything I’ve already done to make it work?” she asks, folding her arms.

  “There was a soldier earlier, one that the Cleric had to heal, because I couldn’t.”

  “And?”

  “And if she wasn’t there, they’d have died.”

  She shakes her head, somewhat annoyed by the conversation, but it falls away when she sees how serious I am.

  “It’s unethical for me to fill this position.”

  “I disagree,” she says, pushing back the stray red hair, “If there had been two soldiers heavily wounded, even if you had your skill still. One would have died. Because healers can only do so much.”

  “I know that.”

  She shakes her head, “No, you don’t get it. Let me explain to you Specialist Novak, you are the best medic in the Brigade. Not just the Company, not just the Battalion, but the entire Brigade. I’d be willing to bet even more than that, but sadly I don’t have access to those metrics.”

  “Ma’am…”

  “One hundred and fifty-six percent.”

  I look at her strangely.

  “That’s your clear rate for casualties compared to other medics in the Brigade.”

  I blink, “It can’t be that high we have…”

  “Other classes better at healing than your old one, I know, but it is. It’s in your personnel file, same with how many awards you’ve been put in for by Mwangi and your old Platoon Leaders.”

  “I don’t have any awards.”

  “They were rejected, at the Battalion level.”

  That tracks. The guy hates me. Like really fucking hates me. Still, I didn’t know that Mwangi put me in for awards. What a softie.

  “You’d already be a Sergeant, if the Battalion Commander didn’t despise you.”

  “That doesn’t change that I can’t heal anymore.”

  “Do you want the list of your achievements alphabetically or chronologically?”

  “Ma’am, I…”

  “Forgive me if I paraphrase. Soldier rushed into a burning building while off duty, saving the life of a family of three.”

  “That was…”

  “Soldier notably disobeyed direct orders and went through an encampment of goblins to bring back a comrade. Soldier’s courage inspired the Platoon to take action and vanquish the enemy.”

  My jaw flexes, we still lost two during that Gate in an ambush.

  “Soldier successfully saved three other soldiers and one off-worlder during the mission even after using all of his mana. Soldier with his battle buddies Tran and Barlow managed to flank the enemy position, in order to drive them out, despite being ordered to sit tight.”

  I shake my head, she puts up a finger before I can speak.

  “You have a penchant for defying orders and saving people that otherwise would have died.”

  “Amber, that doesn’t…”

  “Stand at attention,” she snaps, jaw rippling, I do as she says, and she speaks extra quietly for the next part, “I’m not Amber right now, I’m Lieutenant Dorliac, your Platoon Leader. I know you think that I did all of this as some kind of sick way to get back with you, but I didn’t.”

  I stand at attention still, she pauses for a moment, mulling it over.

  “I wanted to help you, because first and foremost, you are a good person. And because you are a good friend. No matter what happened between us, I have never changed how I feel on that.”

  Where is she going with this?

  “Regardless,” she says, pacing in front of me, “I wanted to help you. Because you help other people. Now, if I say you’re good enough to be the Platoon’s healer, then you damn well are. I would have already requested a replacement if I felt it was needed. As it stands now, between the Cleric, myself, and you, our Platoon has the highest amount of medical coverage and readiness in the entire Brigade. So stand the fuck down. I’m not here to hold your hand, if you’re worried about being a burden, practice your medical techniques. Or, you could figure out how to get your ability back. I have a hard time believing the system can take something you were so proficient with.”

  Get it back? If she knew what I knew, I think she’d understand it’s not that simple. Though she might be right, thinking about the synergy in the Legacy part of the RoD menu, maybe there is a meaning behind that.

  “You can stand at ease,” she sighs, shaking her head again, “You really are the only one that can get me worked up like this.”

  “Cortez seems to do just fine, ma’am,” I accidentally say, but she doesn’t seem angry by it, she cracks a smile, rolling her eyes.

  “Do you have any other complaints?”

  I think about it for a minute. Her argument was persuasive. Normally it would just be me covering an entire Platoon. She isn’t wrong. Even if I wasn’t here, it’s still more than we normally have. There’s also the other platoon’s medic… though honestly, they aren’t very good.

  “No complaints, ma’am, thank you, ma’am.”

  She nods, “Then get back to work, Specialist.”

  I give her a nod then a salute, unsure if I should salute inside the stalk, technically it has a roof, albeit a very swaying in the wind roof. She returns the salute and I depart after it’s dropped.

  I’m heading towards where Tran and Barlow went, but I get a strange ringing in my ears, one that becomes louder and louder, until it drowns out the noise. My eyes dilate strangely and I feel a pulse of energy coming from my hand. Looking down at it, my vision blurred, the ring… Abyss. It’s glowing. A black text box appears.

  [ Unique Skill Acquired ]

  [ Eyes of the Abyss ]

  [ Rolling to Continue Daily Chapters... Success ]

  [ System Suggestions to maintain daily chapters... ]

  [??Please Follow, Favorite and Rate??]

  Discord Plug:

  The Forsaken Realm Discord Invite

  Patreon Plug:

  https://www.patreon.com/c/Godric_HTG