Charlemagne extended a thin tendril of mana deep into his stomach, probing the barrier that protected the cucumber-shaped Settlement Token from his powerful stomach acid. The rooster had fully expected the mana to be hijacked and absorbed, but the thread passed straight through the mana shield without resistance. As the probe reached the exterior of the Settlement Token, it reacted with incredibly dense mana that formed the artificial vegetable.
The rooster's mana channels were instantly overloaded by the backlash, sending waves of searing pain throughout the young rooster's entire being. Caught off guard by the extreme reaction, Charlemagne collapsed and began to spasm as his Mana Core destabilized. It took all his willpower to regain control over the tendril of mana that connected his core to the extremely potent Settlement Token. He yanked as hard as he could, but the tendril remained firmly attached.
Another surge of power assaulted Charlemagne, threatening the special circulatory system that distributed mana to every part of the rooster’s body. But in order to reach the more vulnerable parts of this magical system, the mana first had to flow back through Charlemagne’s core, which was made to absorb and store a large amount of mana without bursting. Clamping down with all his will, Charlemagne forced the influx of magical energy to begin swirling inside his Mana Core. Each second of agony felt like an eternity, as every additional jolt packed the core tighter until it felt like it was going to explode. Thankfully, the process eventually reached a sort of equilibrium, and the spinning mana stretched the walls of the rooster’s special organ, causing it to expand ever so slightly with each subsequent pulse.
Charlemagne tried his best to detach the string of mana connecting him to the slowly dissolving cucumber as often as he could spare the concentration, but the thing was stuck fast. The Mana Core in his chest continued to gnaw at his insides, but the sharp pains that had characterized the earlier stages of whatever the young rooster was experiencing had given way to a dull ache similar to heartburn. The minutes stretched into hours this way, and Charlemagne’s focus was stretched to its limits as physical and mental fatigue began to set in. Then the squiggles appeared with a new message.
The notice from the squiggles did not sound very encouraging, and Charlemagne’s spirits dropped as he realized that for once he had encountered a medical condition that could not be fixed through overeating. His insides continued to feel like mush due to his suppressed healing factor and the damage already done to his body. But he couldn’t devote any time or resources to fixing his leaking organs, as his entire focus was dedicated to keeping the massive ball of mana contained inside his chest. It felt like a bomb at this point, biding its time until the rooster lost focus for just an instant so it could explode. Fortunately for Charlemagne, his recent attribute increases and the long rest he had just woken up from had left him feeling refreshed. Even so, he still needed every scrap of energy and willpower that he could muster.
Flopping around in agony on the ground, Charlemagne was in no condition to handle what happened next.
Ndiogou Gueye pushed down a random pang of shame as he sprinted southward. The Quest he and his companions received had been extremely vague.
Congratulations, you have been issued a divine Quest. Go to the city of Parakou and find ground zero of a huge explosion. Kill whatever you find there.
Reading it for the fifth time, the middle-aged man wondered what sort of atrocity he would be ordered to commit in Brett’s name.
Until the System had arrived, the native of Senegal had run a large agribusiness based out of Malanville, along the border between Benin and Niger. His farms grew cotton, corn, cassava, yams, and other fresh produce. Much of the food found its way to Benin’s northern neighbor, but when a coup in Niger had threatened his distribution channels, Ndiogou had turned to the only other option out there: smugglers.
The smugglers had been reliable partners in business, and, at first, there were no issues. Profits started to tick back up as the price of produce rose, allowing him to recoup some of his initial losses. But the smugglers began demanding larger and larger cuts of the profits, ostensibly to bribe officials on both sides to look the other way. However, Ndiogou had his doubts about that. Some of the smugglers engaged, he quickly found out, in less than savory activities on the side, and kidnappings, while still rare in the area, were not unknown. And yet the businessman continued to work with the smugglers.
Ndiogou had been down in Cotonou on business when the city went on lockdown, first due to a series of attacks that the government claimed was launched by terrorists, but eyewitnesses claimed was an enormous, bloodthirsty rooster. Scoffing at both these claims, Ndiogou had used his connections to bypass the roadblocks and get to his meetings anyways. Despite the lockdown, the government offices were open as well, and so Ndiogou spent an hour with the Minister of Agriculture, Animal Husbandry, and Fishing, working on a new proposal that would allow his farms greater access to low-cost fertilizer in exchange for supplying more cotton to the newly formed industrial zone at Glo-Djigbe.
Ndiogou Gueye had spent the early evening at Code Bar just across from the airport, hanging out with some contacts and getting a bit drunker than he had planned. As night fell, the club finally began to get busy, prompting Ndiogou to start the lengthy process of saying goodbye to everyone. During this process, however, screams cut through the hot, muggy night. Something terrible was happening at the airport. Running outside, Ndiogou couldn’t see anything amiss, but the commotion lasted for a few minutes. Then Toyota Hilux trucks absolutely stuffed with soldiers began to arrive and formed a hasty perimeter around the area, blocking off a couple of gas stations, the go-kart track, and the airport parking lot. It looked like they were gearing up for a full-on battle, so Ndiogou called his driver and began heading south, planning to turn east once he reached the beach road and return to the Sofitel as quickly as he could.
As he waited for a chance to cross Boulevard de la Marina, Ndiogou spotted the source of all the commotion. He couldn’t believe his eyes as an enormous flying creature winged its way directly overhead, heading the exact same way he had planned on going. As his eyes attempted to follow the strange beast, the sky suddenly lit up with a bright flash of light, followed by a rumbling, roaring sound and a rapidly rising, glowing mushroom cloud from where the city of Porto Novo once stood.
Ndiogou heard the rumbling, but he never saw the fallout from the atomic bomb blossoming into the air. The initial burst of radiation had fried his retinas, and he was completely blind. The combination of booze, adrenaline, and shock from losing his sight hit all at once, robbing the man of consciousness, and he collapsed on the side of the road.
When he awoke, the night was pitch black, but there were words floating in the air before him. Ndiogou was certain that he was dreaming, so he pinched himself. It hurt like the dickens. Panicking again, he pushed himself off the ground and rose to his feet, wondering what had happened to the power. Then he remembered the bright flash and the roar of something in the distance. Whatever it was, it must have knocked out the area’s electricity grid. As he stood there, wondering what he should do next, the man realized that, although he still couldn’t see per se, he could feel things around him somehow. Sensing that the floating text had something to do with this new sensation, he gave the notification his full attention.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ndiogou took a few minutes to acclimate to the alternative sense of perception as he slowly started to make his way toward the Sofitel, joining an unusually large crowd that were slowly picking their way down Boulevard de la Marina. It took him a while to notice, but his new ability was much better at picking out living things than inanimate ones. Humans, for instance, had a soft reddish glow to them. Green, purple, and blue birds and insects fluttered through the air every so often. But every so often he’d encounter a person that had a purple aura rather than red. The people that glowed purple also acted a bit in some way, but Ndiogou didn’t have the mental energy to ponder than particular mystery.
“Hey, have you heard,” a teenaged girl asked him, speaking French with the heavy accent common to those who could not afford to attend school for very long. “Our deity, Brett, wants us all to walk to Lagos. There is shelter there.”
The young lady didn’t bother waiting for a response, but instead skipped away, moving far faster than she should have been able to. Ndiogou suddenly remembered that he had received some sort of message from this “System” that had just activated about his attributes being more effective. He wondered if that had anything to do with the girl’s movements. In order to test out this theory, he reached down and picked up a stray brick. Careful not to hit anyone, he hurled it towards a stone wall. Although it was difficult to see how fast the rock was moving, just the sound of the impact alone confirmed it: he was much stronger than he had been yesterday.
The theological implications of the revelation came next. Ndiogou had been a Catholic all his life, even if he wasn’t the most devout, and he was definitely a theist. But the mention of the name “Brett” both in the strange floating text and by the young woman had triggered a strong reaction. For one thing, the name was stupid. And second, why would Brett make everyone go to Lagos? Ndiogou hated that city with a passion. Any omniscient being would have picked the city of Cotonou first, or maybe Abomey-Calavi. Or Abidjan. Even Ouagadougou would have been preferable to Lagos.
Despite his misgivings, Ndiogou had nothing better to do than to head in that direction and hope that his children were also able to make it there on foot. A quick check of his cell phone showed that it was entirely non-functional, so he had no way to call Moussa, his eldest son, but Ndiogou was certain that the young man would rise to the occasion and lead the nannies and younger children to safety. A memory of his wife, dead for almost three years, arose unbidden and pulled his spirits down. How he missed her counsel and companionship.
Surely, thought Ndiogou, she would tell me exactly what I needed to do. Ami, pray for us sinners who are left. Ask…Brett…if he is truly our God, for mercy and salvation.
As Ndiogou prayed, one of the strange purple-auraed people suddenly snapped, grabbing the woman behind him and attempting to bite her. She slapped him so hard that several teeth were dislodged, sending the man to the concrete just in front of Ndiogou. Acting as it he hadn’t felt the blow at all, the man leaped up and repeated the attack, this time going for Ndiogou’s jugular.
As he defended himself from the man’s frantic but uncoordinated attacks, Ndiogou noticed two things. One, he was significantly stronger than the man, despite being smaller than him. Two, the man was no longer a man. Ndiogou’s Extra Sensory Perception Skill provided a wealth of information every time the two touched, allowing him to sense that the man’s heart wasn’t beating and there was no electrical activity inside the stranger’s brain. The impulses that were controlling the body appeared to emanate from the stomach area.
Ndiogou’s long-held love of scary movies helped him put two and two together.
“He’s a zombie or something!” Ndiogou shouted as he finally dislodged his attacker and pushed the reanimated body to the ground. His inhibitions against aggression against another human evaporated at the realization, and he kicked the downed body in the head with all his might. Then another person joined in, and another, and another.
The man’s body didn’t stop thrashing until the crowd had broken its limbs so thoroughly that further movement was impossible. A now filthy Ndiogou watched in horror as the man continued to try to bite despite his jaw being dislocated. As he turned away in disgust, he received a notification.
Ndiogou missed the Special Ability Choice notification in his haste to find more zombies. The crowd tore through the former humans one by one as quickly as Ndiogou could identify them, and soon he had a loyal following of those ready to kill anyone who he pointed his finger at. His level continued to rise throughout the evening and the next few days.
When they reached Lagos, Ndiogou had expected to take it over due to his newfound influence, but he quickly found himself a big fish in an even bigger pond. He was forced to join a gang lead by people little more than thieves and murderers that called themselves a “guild” and had claimed a spot of land just on the other side of the border from Seme Podji as their exclusive hunting grounds.
He ran away as soon as he was able, running non-stop past the ruined city of Porto Novo. When he was hungry, he killed goats and chickens and ate them, cooking them over fires he made with the lighter that he carried. He found a fertile hunting ground in the forest near N’dali, using his Extra Sensory Perception skill to spot the Assassinadders that swarmed there before chopping them in two with a machete attached to a long pole to chop them in half. His level continued to grow, and his Extra Sensory Perception range increased by leaps and bounds as he leveled it up. It wasn’t long before the System recognized his efforts at hunting down his prey, granting him the Tracking Skill.
When Ndiogou finally made it to Malanville, his children were long gone. In fact, the entire city was deserted, except for a few random humans that spent their days hiding. Tales of the enormous monster bird that hunted during the day had spread through the entire country. The man wished that he could debunk those rumors, but he had certainly seen something with his own eyes that fateful evening in Cotonou.
In the days that followed, Ndiogou joined up with a group of men that were determined to make the best of the new world, hunting down dangerous creatures and killing them during the day and practicing their skills at night. He even convinced them to stop hunting people for levels, which they said was largely because humans no longer gave them good experience anyways. But Ndiogou counted it as a win anyways.
After a few weeks full of hunting and leveling, Ndiogou had almost forgotten all about those first few days on the road, when he had pointed out the humans who had been infected by whatever zombie plague had arrived with the System. He had even mostly forgotten that he had pointed out a few innocent people in order to appease his increasingly bloodthirsty followers.
It was about that time that the Quest appeared, sending Ndiogou the Blind Hunter and his crew to the city of Parakou, not knowing what they would be killing. But he went anyway.
