Chapter 470

Leaning on his spear, Arthur panted, staring all around. He had been right - the Heaven Beating stick with its imbued, energetic weapon could harm the ghost within the possessed individuals. It only took a few good strikes to end them, leaving the possessed free of the haunting.

Of course, when you woke up of a stupor, found yourself holding a weapon and getting struck by another; sometimes, instinct took over. Arthur had to kill or heavily wound a few who had chosen not to stand down, after being freed. Not that he blamed them, but it was incredibly inconvenient.

The entirety of the longhouse was a mess, not a single table lay unbroken, most of the long benches shattered or had bodies lying on them. There might be – outside of his team – maybe a half-dozen figures still living within the room; and ‘alive’ was barely true for Casey’s case.

She was stuck through multiple times and Jan had a heavy bandage pushed down on the wound, helping to stem the bleeding as Casey drank from the healing potion that she had on hand. One last check, before he sighed; noting how the front door – so far closed since their arrival – had cracked open. Indicator that they were done, that it was time to go.

Of course, there was one last thing that they could do.

“I’m going to loot, okay?” Arthur said, drawing in a deep breath as he pushed the flicker of concern and dread that rose up within him at that comment. He knew what was coming from this stage, and he was not looking forward to it; but needs must and he was not going to leave level six cores alone.

Not even if acquiring them was less than pleasant. 

"I'm starting above." He noted neither of his companions had chosen to answer him, though he wasn't entirely surprised. Taking the stairs up, he chose to go in a slow circle; knowing that there really was no better option. The first body he came across was one he himself had killed, the man dead after a thrust through his face had torn half of his jaw open and pierce the back of his throat. The face was mostly unrecognisable, but the grimace of pain and the scratches along his neck where he had tried to get air through ruined throat was all too clear.

He shuddered, closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness passed through him. Worked hard on shunting the emotions and imagery aside, though he knew he'd have to talk about it at some point. Hands groped through bleary eyes, as he searched for the pouch he knew had to be there.

Came up with the spirit core that the man was meant to carry along with a few others - a nice bonus, for having to add to his plethora of nightmares - and then moved on. Once more, Arthur could not but be grateful for the Yin Body that gave him a clearer mind, that helped to shift the screaming nightmare of pawing through still warm bodies for loot.

He knew, intellectually, these were not 'real' people; not exactly. Yet it did little for the primal portion of his mind, the ones that recognised human faces and grimaces of pain, that understood the saying 'but for the grace of god' or a turning of fate. A moment's inattention, a few inches to the side...

A hand reached up, touched his chest where a blade had skittered off his chest plate. Two inches off from punching through the softer, more vulnerable portion of the armour in the side. If he had not noticed them coming at the last moment, twisted his body so that the attack had struck his armour in the front...

That was the horror, but the Yin Body - the cool mind - helped. That and prior preparation; but there was only so much preparation could aid in such things.

He kept moving, circling the room. Pulling pouches free, dropping their contents into his own without counting. Checking for additional loot, testing things like knives and looking over bracers and knee guards and, yes, booths and belts and rings. Sometimes, for the accessories and smaller items that he thought might be enchanted, he took. 

"I'm a vulture. Kaw-kaw!" He muttered to himself, then shook his head. Tears dripping to the side, even as he chuckled, hoarsely. "Pretty sure that's a crow, not a vulture. What noise do they make?" Some kind of hissing noise, wasn't it? Like a raptor or something, but he wasn't certain. Not as though his experience with vultures came from anything but Westerns and Conan the Barbarian. The original, not the three remakes, the one where the Terminator bit the head off the vulture.

Or was that the second movie? Such things blurred. 

He almost called out below to ask, decided that might be a little too insensitive. He was not surprised to see Casey ignoring the bodies, still healing. Jan was looting, though slower than he was. Tough as the girl might be, he doubted that she had been looking forward to this portion of the business. 

Still, there were advantages to killing people who used to be Climbers, including the various items. 

"Think there's anything enchanted?" he asked, as he clambered down, stopping at a corpse to finish the looting process. He wasn't doing as good a job as he could - if they had enchanted underwear, for example, he was never going to find out. 

It was one thing to act as though you'd steal everything from a body if you had the chance, right down to their underclothing. It was another to be confronted with the fact that you would have to strip them of it, both male and female. At least, in the Tower, you did not have to worry about them defecating themselves nor the smell of spoiling intestines when they were ripped out. Minimal food meant minimal waste, though urine was still a concern. But it was a lot less dense and a lot less fragrant.

Still not pretty.

"Maybe," Casey said, slowly. "You want me to look?"

"You can ah?" Jan asked, surprised. She came over, dumping out what she had found from another pouch on the remaining long bench that Casey was still sat on.

"I can do the basics at least." 

"Ok-lah." Jan turned away, only to find Arthur had moved on, looting the bodies without complaint. He wiped at his face occasionally, though the tears had slowed by this point. 

Who he was crying for, only the gods knew.