Skyborne Raider

Michael gets his answer from the man who walks slowly out from behind the carcass of the behemoth fox.

He points his gun at all three of us. This is not just any guy; he holds it like a professional, hands crossed, supporting the gun. Only the flashlight is missing from underneath.

Even though his face is shaded and I can only see the outline, I already know what he looks like from examining those identical corpses.

What’s changed is that his chest and stomach look stuffed and buffed. He’s definitely wearing a bulletproof vest. I glance above his head and see a slightly depleted health bar, his level, and a name.

What the heck? He’s an NPC? With all that modern gear?!

“Harald Nilsson, level 37?” Mike asks boldly.

I see no fear in Mike’s eyes; he hazards and risks because he’s never known the pain I’ve endured from dying.

At least this is the part he’s confident in. His girl, however, is definitely not.

Harald steps out of the shadows. The corpses have their eyes closed, so I can finally see his. Pale blue, confident, and sharp. But I also see a hidden pain deep inside when I look long enough.

He’s definitely been through a lot. Level 37! We had to deal with so much shit just to reach level 10.

“Markus, Michael, Astrid,” he speaks with a strong, weathered voice. Probably a smoker, but his tone is warm.

He sizes us up and seems to decide, based on the looks on our faces, that we’re not a threat.

The moment he makes this decision, his name and health bar disappear, and he holsters his gun in the pistol slot on his belt. I notice he has a few pockets on his tactical jacket.

“Are you…?” I start to ask, but he interrupts me.

“Yes. I am.”

“Did you three come together or meet along the way? Have you met anyone else? Are you the leader?” he asks, still keeping his distance behind the fox.

“Yes, we came together. Me? No, no. Because of my level, right? It’s a long story, with a lot of luck involved,” I answer, trying to sound friendly, wondering what Mike might think about all this. As if he doesn’t have enough on his plate already.

“How long have you been here?” Harald asks.

My eyes wander into the distance. I’m a bit suspicious, but honestly, I feel like an opportunist now. Staying in the tower alone might be good for my mental health in the short term. But having access to an older, presumably skilled gunman is even more intriguing. He’s one of us.

Shit. I hope I wasn’t zoning out. Again.

“Two, maybe three days? Not sure,” Mike answers, turning to Astrid. She starts to think, but I see she’s as lost as the rest of us.

“No idea. Time seems to fly differently here. How long have you been here? How did you manage to reach that level?” I ask carefully.

Still, I can’t be sure he’s entirely trustworthy. But if he wanted to shoot us, he would’ve done it already. Or would he?

He takes out a small notebook from one of his pockets and flips through it.

“The tunnel opened on July 6th, 2024, at 3:27 PM EST. So… today is July 27th, 2024. If I’m correct, I’ve been here for 21 days, in about two hours.”

“I killed a few animals, mostly to feed myself, and gained these levels.”

“Wait, wait… The tunnel?” Mike interrupts. “We fell into a pit and woke up a few hours' walk from there,” he says, pointing in the direction of our original spawn point.

“A few animals,” I joke, pointing with both hands at the giant fox the size of a minibus.

“If you’ll pardon my language, this fucker got me twice." He points at the fox, his voice rising a bit.

"Unprepared and unexpected. I saw the smoke from the watchtower; that’s why I’m here.”

He moves closer to his own corpses and continues.

“To check what’s happening, bury myself, maybe get some revenge on the beast, and find the next watchtower.”

“So there are more of these towers?” I ask curiously.

“Yes. I came a long way from that direction,” he says, gently pointing with his finger, without moving his arm at all. It’s exactly the opposite direction from where we came.

“I have so many questions,” I say, and Mike and Astrid nod in agreement.

“Same here. But are you okay with a curious company?” Astrid asks directly.

Looking into his eyes says more than words. He might maintain his poker face, but I can feel he’s as excited to see real humans from Earth as we are. At least Astrid and I.

Without any extra words, both parties know we want to fuse.

I look at Astrid with an understanding gaze.

“Astrid! What are you doing?” Mike whispers to her, pinching her dress.

I understand his concern. How can you trust a guy who was pointing a loaded gun at you just moments ago? He’s right.

But I get why Astrid did this. She’s filled with a rollercoaster of emotions. We thought we were alone, but there are more people like us. And finally, an adult.

I eagerly wait for Harald’s response. He thinks for a bit, sizing us up again, but then nods.

“Yes, but you can’t slow me down.”

I completely abandon my plan of staying in the watchtower. My dream of an ultimate survival experience on my own in peace is now pushed further into the future.

“We can continue this talk around the fire tonight. I have some work to do around here,” Harald informs us, hinting that we shouldn’t be around until he’s finished.

He says out loud, “Items,” and out of thin air, a small flashlight appears between his fingers.

He looks at Astrid and shouts, “Catch! You may find this useful. Take it as a welcome gift and a sign of trust,” and throws the flashlight to her. It looks like a military-grade manual hand-pumping flashlight.

Then another item materializes in his hands—a small bag with a Velcro cover. He opens it and pulls out what seems to be a foldable shovel.

We all know what he’s going to use it for. He starts unbuttoning the shirt on one of his corpses.

“You don’t have to watch,” he adds.

“So, what are we going to do now?” I turn to the couple and ask, facing away from Harald.

“We need to check on an old friend. Since you’ve had your share, it’s time for us.”

“Of course.” I nod.

It’s time for some backtracking.

We walk at a normal pace through the boss field. I hear the couple talking about Harald. Since meeting him, I can feel Mike’s attitude changing.

Maybe having another member around eases the atmosphere? It’s hard to tell, but it’s definitely raised our overall morale.

Harald radiates confidence and experience due to his age, and the fact that he seems prepared for all of this is intriguing. This will definitely require more conversation.

“I think he was a cop,” Mike guesses.

“Then why isn’t he wearing a cop uniform or any soldier gear?” Astrid replies.

“Maybe he was a security guard?” They continue to argue and then turn to me.

I join the conversation with my own thoughts, remembering to avoid overthinking.

“His accent sounds North American, not like ours. Maybe he’s just a regular citizen? They have easier access to weapons and gear than we do, don’t you think?”

“What about that shovel and flashlight? If he’s got a spare for strangers he just met, it’s suspicious,” notes Mike.

“And that precise date and time? He must have come here intentionally.”

“Good points,” I nod.

“Did anyone notice his eyes? Those are the eyes of a sad man,” Astrid says softly.

“Exactly! I was about to point that out. I bet he wasn’t alone and maybe lost someone? He seemed in a hurry. And the first thing he asked was if we’d met anyone else.” I agree with her.

“Winner gets dinner. Now focus on the road—you never know if any of the longnecks are still around,” Mike notes, drawing his sabre as we enter the charred woods.

After a few minutes of carefully stepping to avoid damaging our shoes on the ashes and charcoal, we stop caring and rush through. Our boots turn tar black up to the heels. Near the stream, we skew our path more to the south, moving alongside the burnt remains. I don’t jump over the river but boldly run through it, making my shoes wet again. Mike helps Astrid cross the water.

I give them some space, staying behind them, practicing my Focus skill on my feet, heating them up to dry my shoes as we go.

Finally, we reach the flaming bowl, or more likely the spawn point or safe spot. It apparently has functions beyond providing slight warmth.

As I walk around it, I raise my hand and let it pass through the flame. Silly me, thinking it could improve the condition of my hands. Of course, it has no effect besides warming me a little.

“We’re close, very close,” says Mike impatiently, rushing to the edge. Astrid tries to catch up to him.

As he enters the light that shines through the fringe, he suddenly stops. His right hand touches the nearest tree, and he simply gazes.

This event alone makes me both nervous and excited. It’s unusual for him. The same thing happens with Astrid. She stands next to him, gazing at the open fields.

This gears me up, and I release a larger-than-normal amount of strength into my legs, making it easier to sprint the remaining distance.

“Oh boy.”

“It’s them?”