It is said that, when the universe was born, God had said: Let there be light. From that light, God (hah) knows how many billions of years ago, came everything else — even darkness.
The pious had cried, Grandfather had told him, when the warning words of a merciful merciless God denounced the fruitless endeavour that was redemption. The victory of Sin — Sin darker, some reason, than anything ever attributed to Satan in any holy text.
In truth, the identity of that God was never quite discovered, and the three Abrahamic Faiths argued on the matter to this very day, each laying claim to the Lord's kindness and saying that theirs was the path to forgiveness, all the while wielding the Light given to them by said God to commit atrocities as was man's calling.
From Light came Darkness — as a child, that had confused him. How could purity inspire impurity, he had wondered? If they were opposites, should they not have clashed from the beginning of time?
Carter hated Grandfather for many, many reasons — but he could not begrudge the man for failing to meet his questions with acceptable answers. And he himself had given up on it, too, after years of silent wondering; chalked it up to one of life's greatest mysteries.
What a fool he had been — the answer had been in front of him all along, stared at him even now.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely — that was a misnomer. No, in truth — Power was corruption. Creation, coming from power, would result in power birthing darkness, for they were all but synonyms when push came to shove.
Therefore — Carter stared for a moment at the encroaching Dreamers that descended upon him with a thirst for his life, eyes blazing with the spark of God that had been given to mankind, and grieved. Grieved for the little girl who had spoken choked words, for the emaciated man he had been forced to put down and for the armless woman who stumbled her way through instincts, ripped from the life that she knew.
Grieved when he noticed a collar in her neck, identical to the one around his own.
But just for one moment, for there would be time to grieve when the lights met their dues. For now, however, he would dance to the bloody tune life had decided to play him — and he would do so until it reached its bloody end.
He would not fall.
Time to assess the situation.
Six Dreamers approached from the front — two directly ahead of him, three northeast and one northwest. The rest had taken to attacking from the sides, with six more from his left and the remaining three from the right, if you counted the apparently crippled Girl who'd spooked him.
In other words — surrounded on all sides. The picture perfect 'worst case scenario', as it were.
Win or die trying had been considerably cooler in his head.
" < Dash > ! "
He charged at the creature a few feet away, meeting it head on. It didn't take longer than two seconds, which was already considerably more than he had intended to waste, but now wasn't the time to hesitate. The dagger, held at the read, descended upon the Dreamer's head like Thor's hammer in judgement —
[Critical Hit!]
[Dreamer 1: 45/100]
[MP: 50/85]
Not quite the hit he expected, he belatedly noticed, watching his dagger slice through the side of the creature's skull diagonally. While he had certainly hit bone, the odd angle he had unfortunately hit with meant it slid across the surface of the skull and took off the creature's ear.
In retaliation —
" — ! "
Agonizing pain.
Ten fingers had sunk into the flesh of his chest, cracking ribs with their strength. They hadn't gone more than an inch deep, but it was enough to create wounds that oozed blood — and to cause more pain than he had ever felt.
[ Carter: 70/150 ]
[MP Drain!]
[MP: 45/85]
— Damn it, he hasn't the time for this!
The Dreamer was kicked away forcefully in the chest, knocking it a good eight feet back before it fell down. On their way out, the creature's fingers had dragged through his flesh, ripping a gasp of pain from the boy's throat.
— Shit, shit, shit.
He didn't look back — He didn't need to. If he hesitated, he would die. If he froze in fear, he would die.
And now, a new one — if he missed again, Carter would absolutely die.
He charged at the fallen Dreamer, bent his knees, and jumped — gripping his dagger reversely with both hands and landing straight in the Dreamer's chest with an oomph. Even the creature let out a strangled gasp; such was the force of the impact of Carter's whole body weight against his ribs and lungs.
" — RRRHH! "
He didn't care about making noises anymore — his presence was already known. Therefore — it was with a scream that sounded more like a growl of enraged desperation that Carter's dagger was sunk to its hil on the Dreamer's skull.
[Critical Hit!]
[Dreamer 1: 0/100]
[Reaped!]
He had absolutely no idea what 'Reaped' was supposed to know, and he honestly didn't care just yet. Instead, he quickly rolled to his feet and took a sharp turn into the lane to the left — only to take a few steps back and slam his shoulder into the shelf.
As expected, it fell down with a loud crash — and the characteristic sound of bones breaking followed.
[Improvised Attack!]
[Dreamer 2: 60/100]
[Dreamer 8: 80/100]
[Dreamer 11: 90/150]
Three had been hit, then — the system updates were indeed useful for something. But time wasn't on his side and thus ponder he could not, for even those few seconds of wondering distracted him enough —
" ! "
— for a Dreamer to leap at him with scary agility and deliver a right hook straight to his jaw with all the physical power of a shark's bite. It seemed to split the air on contact.
He blacked out for all of two seconds — the two seconds it took for his body to cross some 13 feet. His back violently slammed against the concrete wall that had been behind him, surging blood through his throat and out his mouth with the force of the impact alone.
[Critical Hit!]
[Carter: 40/150]
Not helping. Not helping at all.
He struggled to his feet and instantly knew that little party trick had broken at least three ribs. It was a wonder he could still move through the pain; clearly, adrenaline was one hell of a drug.
Hah —
Still.
How fun! He'd only killed one of the bastards and immobilized three more, and already he was halfway dead. Great news for his continued survival, really. If he could get through two more, it'd be a miracle.
… Whatever.
Giving up would be way too sad at this point.
The Jackhammer-fist Dreamer was still at the spot he'd punched him at, having taken something of a Martial Arts stance. It was surprising that they still had enough muscle memory to do so, honestly; perhaps because his [System] abilities had been related to them in life, he retained the ability to utilize them after corruption.
He — no, IT was, however, completely immobile. The rest of the Dreamers, a staggering 11, advanced either from the sides or from behind the martial artist wannabe, though their speeds left something to be desired. One, he noticed dimly, had some cans of food levitating around him —
— Carter instinctively ducked. The cans crashed into the wall to his side.
Well, then, nevermind.