Chapter 21 March to Battle

I gave everyone a few minutes to get situated. There were about eighteen of us in the combat group with everyone else going to join my wife and Doc. My group had only a handful of adults. Mark, Bill and I were all there along with another two men and three women that I didn't know. One of the men looked like he'd just come off a construction site, wearing a reflective vest and work boots. The other was older, maybe mid-fifties, gripping a crowbar like it was his lifeline. Of the women, one had the build of a CrossFit instructor and was already stretching like this was just another workout. The second was maybe thirty, clutching a field hockey stick with white knuckles. The third looked like she'd raided a sporting goods store, decked out in catcher's gear.

A few people from the support group shot resentful looks our way. One woman muttered loud enough for me to hear, "Of course the men get to play hero while we sit back and watch." Tara's response was immediate and sharp. "You want to trade places? Be my guest. I'll happily let you stand between my daughter and whatever comes through that rift. You picked what group to join. Nobody forced your hand."

The rest were all around Emma's age. Some of the boys were wearing their football pads and carrying helmets. My son would have been with that group, probably the one making everyone laugh to hide their nerves. He'd have been checking on the younger kids, making sure they felt included. That was his way. Likely suiting up with them, probably making jokes about how football pads were basically medieval armor anyway. The thought hit me hard.

These weren't just random teenagers. These were kids who should be worried about college or who to ask to prom, not whether they'd survive the next hour.

The assortment of weapons was interesting. There was everything from cheap Alibaba Machetes to a harpoon gun. I mean where the hell did that kid find a harpoon gun? Did he raid a marine supply store? Was there just a harpoon gun sitting in someone's garage in suburban Ohio? The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. Almost.

I got their attention with a clap. "Listen up. I have no idea what we will be facing, how many there will be, or the location. There is only so much planning we can do before we get to the location. The first step is to split this into a melee and ranged group. Once we know who is in each group. We can coordinate from there."

Mark and Bill stayed with me. We were joined by the 2 new men, 1 of the women, the 2 boys in football pads and Tyler. The CrossFit woman went with the ranged group, which made sense. She probably had the discipline for careful shooting. Tyler stood next to me, clearly trying to look tough while repeatedly checking his interface like he was reviewing his stats.

I was glad to see that half the group planned to be frontline fighters. I was worried that the majority would go ranged and it would be difficult to keep whatever is coming pinned down. Looking at them though, I felt my stomach tighten. Half these kids probably hadn't even been in a real fist fight, and now they were about to face monsters. I was about to lead them into something that would either make them stronger or dead. No middle ground with the system. Level up or become XP for something else.

The construction worker was testing the weight of a sledgehammer, at least it looked like he knew which end to hold. But the teenager next to him was holding a golf club like he'd seen in a video game. Nine iron versus nightmare creature.

"I appreciate all of you being here and willing to step up. I will be the main tank for this fight. I have armor, a shield, and a taunt skill. Bill and Mark will be the other tanks as they also have armor. The weapons you brought won't do much, and that armor you're wearing may just slow you down. Get in and out. Hit and run. Don't get bogged down."

Bill cut me off before I could get going again. "Hold up, I just had a thought. From a resource management perspective, what about the leftover weapons from earlier, Scott? Those are system weapons. We've got what, four or five goblin swords still in inventory? I can give up the two I got since I received a proper sword set in my chest. Basic optimization says we should distribute the system gear before anyone tries to tank with a baseball bat."

"Dammit, why the hell didn't I think of that." I sighed heavily. "Great leadership there, Scott. 'Follow me into battle! Oh wait, I forgot we have actual weapons.' Really inspiring stuff." I raised my voice. "Emma, quit whatever TikTok you're editing and come over please."

She looked at me with an overly dramatic eyeroll. I asked, "Do you happen to have the weapons from the goblin fight in the storage ring? Also, I never asked what loot we got from the hounds. Did they drop any weapons we could use?"

She got that lost, reading the interface look, before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Oh my God, yes Dad, I totally forgot about them until you reminded me. Very on-brand for our family's whole 'winging the apocalypse' vibe. Where do you want me to dump this medieval yard sale?"

I waved at one of the picnic tables. Watching items appear from nowhere into her hand was just weird. It was like watching a magic act, but there was no rabbit here. She reached out, and suddenly there was a sword in her hand where there had been empty air a second before. The crowd went dead silent. Then another sword materialized. Then clubs. Then some clawed gloves.

"What the fuck," someone whispered.

"Is she pulling those out of thin air?" The construction worker, whose name I still didn't know, stepped closer. "That's not possible."

"Dude, we're about to fight monsters," Tyler said, fidgeting with nervous energy. "I think we passed 'possible' about three hours ago."

Emma laid out two swords, four clubs, and three sets of clawed gloves on the table. Each appearance drawing gasps or nervous mutters from the crowd. One of the football players reached out tentatively, like the weapons might disappear if he moved too fast.

"Okay, this is what we have to work with. Mark, I don't see you with a weapon, so take first pick as you'll be a tank up front."

Mark surprised me with his selection. He picked up a set of the gloves and put them on. "Always wanted to try the up-close-and-personal approach," he said with a nervous laugh. "Figure if I'm going to panic, might as well panic while punching something." Like my gauntlets they morphed to fit perfectly as he put them on. He flexed his fingers experimentally. "Holy shit, these things are actually... wow. I can feel them like they're part of my hands."

The construction worker grabbed one of the swords, testing its weight. "Name's Rick," he said to no one in particular. "And this beats the hell out of my hammer." The woman in the catcher's gear took another sword, while the older man with the crowbar shook his head and stuck with what he brought.

The kid with the broadsword was the only one not to take a weapon. "Kevin," the kid announced, hefting his display sword like he was in an anime. "And this baby's got sentimental value. Plus, it's already killed three spiders in my basement, so it's battle-tested."

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not how any of this works."

"Let him keep it," I said quietly. "Natural selection will sort it out soon enough." Dark? Maybe. But if the kid wanted to face monsters with a wall decoration, that was his call. Kevin either didn't hear me or chose to ignore it, too busy doing practice swings that looked like they came straight from YouTube tutorials.

A notification had been blinking since we entered the park.

New Quest: Neighborhood Watch

Quest Objective

Successfully distribute weapons and lead a team of neighbors to close a rift. All participants will receive a chest based on contribution to the battle.

Quest Rewards

·         XP: 500

·         Armory Building Token (Tier 2)

·         Loot Chest (Rarity determined by contribution)

Note: Effective resource management detected

Resource management. The system made it sound like I was playing a strategy game instead of potentially sending kids to their deaths. But XP was XP. Every bit helped when the alternative was becoming monster food.

Tyler picked up one of the clubs, and we all watched his knuckles go white from gripping it too hard. "Sorry, I keep forgetting and squeezing everything like I'm trying to choke it." He forced himself to relax his grip. "It's weird. Everything feels lighter but I can't break it. Like the system stuff pushes back somehow."

"You'll get used to it," I told him. "Just remember these are for hitting monsters, not seeing how hard you can squeeze. And Tyler, pay attention to what your squeezing."

That brought a round of laughter and helped lighten the mood a bit.

With the plan in place, I walked over to talk with Emma's group.

"Hun, how is everything over here? Do you guys have everything figured out?"

"Obviously, Dad. Echo's basically running the tactical side while I handle the color commentary. My team knows what to do when the shit hits the fan. We're not just standing around comparing stat screens like the melee crew over there."

Echo's synthesized voice added, "I have calculated optimal positioning for maximum survival probability. Also, Emma's livestream angle will be exceptional from the designated battle positioning."

"See? Priorities," Emma said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes and looked across the rest of the group. The lady who looked like a CrossFit instructor laughed and stepped forward. "Your daughter may be a bit over the top, but she isn't lying about her flying iPhone over there. That thing has been talking non-stop about flanking maneuvers and overlapping fields of fire like it went to West Point. It's simultaneously terrifying and reassuring. By the way, I'm Kate. Former Army medic, so I've heard plenty of Army bullshit, but this thing actually makes sense."

I shook the hand she held out. Her grip was firm, calloused. Another person who'd actually done real work before the world ended. "Well, at least someone with experience thinks that. I guess I'll need to see it in action first. My only experience with it so far is an overdone highlight video of me fighting goblins that made me look like a badass action hero instead of a terrified dad with a shovel."

"Oh, that was you? The guy in that video was, uh, bigger." She said while making a round motion over her stomach.

I laughed as a replied, “System Fuckery at its best. Took me from Dad bod to this.”

Kate raised an eyebrow and let out a short laugh. "Well, my teenage son has watched that video about fifty times. You're basically his hero now. The 'Goblin Dad' who went full berserker."

"Great," I muttered. "Internet famous for beating something to death with its friend. Mom would be so proud."

That brought on another round of laughter. But the laughter died quickly, replaced by the kind of nervous silence that comes when everyone suddenly remembers why they're really here. I could see it in their faces, that moment when the adrenaline fueled excitement gave way to cold reality. We were about to fight for our lives with kitchen knives and sports equipment.

"Anyone else feeling like they might throw up?" one of the football players asked quietly.

"That's normal," Kate said flatly. "First time before combat, half my unit was puking. The ones who weren't were either lying or psychopaths."

"Great, so we're all normal and terrified," someone muttered.

And then it was back. That weird slow pulsing feeling at the back of my neck. Like someone was tapping morse code directly into my brain stem. It started as a tingle, then built to a throb that matched my heartbeat. Each pulse sent a directional pull, like an invisible hand tugging me toward the north. My interface flickered, and a compass overlay appeared in my peripheral vision.

It was different this time though. The feeling was cleaner, more precise. The stat points were actually doing something beyond making my pants not fit. The direction was clear this time.

No guessing needed anymore. Stat points directly impact skills and how effective they are. My Intuition boost was making the Rift Sense feel less like a vague warning and more like supernatural GPS.

"Alright everyone. Party's over. It's time." My voice came out harder than I intended, but the pulsing was getting insistent. The timer read 17:41 now. Seventeen minutes to get there, get positioned, and pray whatever came through was manageable. "I can feel that the pulse has returned and according to my rift sense, it will open in about 18 minutes. All that I know now is that it is North of the park. So, follow me and try to look like you know what you're doing. Fake it till you make it, people."

They gathered their weapons, adjusted makeshift armor, and tried to look brave. My tracksuit's display had expanded, showing tiny name tags and health indicators for everyone in the group. Forty-four little green dots spread across my peripheral vision. In seventeen minutes, some of those dots might turn red. Or disappear entirely. The mom in hockey gear was whispering what sounded like a prayer. Rick was helping one of the teenagers figure out how to hold his sword properly. Tyler was bouncing around, clearly excited to test out his new stats in combat.

"Hey," Bill said quietly beside me. "You sure about this? Leading kids into combat?"

"No," I admitted, watching Kevin do another anime inspired practice swing. "But what's the alternative? Let them face it alone when we're not there?" The system had made me the Dimensional Sentinel. Earth's First Hunter. Fancy titles for 'guy who gets to watch teenagers die first.' But if I didn't lead them, who would? And if nobody did, how many more families would lose their kids?

He didn't have an answer for that. None of us did.

"That's literally our family motto at this point," Emma called out, already getting Echo into position for recording. Her voice was lighter than the situation warranted, but I recognized the forced cheer. Same tone she'd used at her brother's funeral when she was trying to keep Lily from crying.

"It's worked so far," I shot back, hefting my maul. The weight felt good in my hands. Solid. Real. Something I could control in all this chaos. "Let's go see what fresh hell the system has for us this time."

As we started moving, a notification force opened.

Quest Update: Neighborhood Watch.

Rift Encounter Upgraded. Imminent Difficulty Scaling: Adjusting for 44 participants.

Warning: Non-combatants detected in raid composition.

Recommendation: Establish defensive perimeter for support personnel.

Difficulty scaling. Because of course the system would make it harder with more people. No good deed goes unpunished in the apocalypse. The system tells me to group people and then pulls this shit.

On the North side of the park was a wooded area we needed to detour around. We looked like a group of cosplay protestors.

"Is it just me, or is this the worst field trip ever?" one of the teenagers muttered.

"At least we get XP instead of a pop quiz at the end," Tyler replied, his voice shaky.

"Tyler, shut up," Kate said quietly. "This isn't a game."

We hit the main road at a quick pace, my speed forcing everyone into a light jog. The border of the zone shimmered about fifty yards to our right. If you've ever been in the desert during the summer and seen the heat shimmering off the asphalt, it looked just like that. I could see through it, but things on the other side were hazy.

"Holy shit, you can actually see the barrier," Rick said, his boots scuffing against the asphalt. "Like a damn force field."

"Language," someone's mom called from the back of the group.

"Mom, we're about to fight monsters," one of the football players protested. "I think we're past worrying about bad words."

I kept at a pace that was a light jog for most of the group. I could hear people breathing harder behind me, some struggling to keep up.

"Dude, slow down," Kevin complained, his sword clanking against his leg. "Not all of us got the super soldier upgrade."

Bill's voice carried from somewhere in the middle of the pack. "He's following the signal. Let the man work."

I needed to find the location and get everyone set up as quickly as I could. It felt like I was going the right way but needed to angle back west just a bit. The sensation was getting stronger, more insistent. As we hit the next neighborhood, I could feel that the rift was close.

"Please tell me we're almost there," one of the moms said breathlessly. "My nerves can't take much more of this suspense."

"Look on the bright side," Emma called out from somewhere behind me. "At least Dad's tracking skills work better than his fashion sense."

That got a few nervous chuckles from the group, which died quickly as I turned into the neighborhood.

This neighborhood opened with a long entry drive and then a community pool and pool house at the first intersection. My rift sense took me towards the pool. As we walked up to the pool, I saw the last thing that I wanted to see. There were a few families hanging out with kids swimming in the pool. It looked like a birthday party.

The group behind me went quiet as they took in the scene.

"Oh, come on," Mark muttered. "Of course there are kids."

If you'd like to get caught up feel free to head to RR. Otherwise I'll be posting here daily until I get it caught up.

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/156806/the-family-that-slays-together