The rumbling was still going strong, but on the rooftop it felt way worse from the start.
Not that Strelok could see the storm itself, but he wasn't about to complain, either.
He had enough problems without the Emissions, too.
Like the fact that he was about to bleed out. And yes, even after equipping all three of his Micah Artifacts. Those Monolith guys kept on coming, too, and his AK was about to overheat.
Poor Krinkov. He must have sent at least a thousand rounds through its barrel.
And all that in the last hour.
Outside that massive Dome, it should have already been morning.
Underneath, it didn't matter. Day or night, Blowout or not, all he saw was this strange swirling.
The Mana this kid from the other world has been talking about?
He didn't understand. He didn't even care.
As long as he could keep on going and had enough rounds to kill those guys—
Yeah. That was all that mattered. And he was lucky in that regard.
Most of those bastards carried Russian weaponry, and he could loot their ammo in droves. Then he sent them right back without the casings, and if his counting was correct—
"Thirty-seven," Strelok grunted, checking on his magazine.
Was there even a point in taking them out? He also went through at least a dozen portals, but—
'Yes. Keep on going. Three more, and you're there.'
Now, that made him jump.
He thought he was already familiar with that kid's parallel brain and whatnot, but he was wrong.
Not that this voice sounded anything like that, anyway.
It was a woman's voice he didn't recall ever hearing before, yet somehow—it felt so familiar.
And if not for the next contingent of three Monolith grunts who arrived to die—
"It's still not too late to join us, Apostle," one yelled that now-familiar line.
And bless him for giving Strelok the two precious seconds to aim his shot.
The Krinkov barked like usual. He sprayed bullets at their exposed faces, and—
Two went down before his weapon stopped. But that was still earlier than he had expected.
"A fucking stoppage? Now?!" Strelok grunted, trying to clear the chamber.
'Didn't you say you went through a thousand bullets? You should have expected that.'
Yes, yes, so helpful, but he wasn't even saying that.
Not that it mattered to the voice, be it the parallel brain or this strange but familiar woman.
That damned bullet was stuck.
And with the last soldier finally realising it was his chance—
Strelok used the folding stock and his knee instead to finish the job. Thank fuck, these weren't those elite troops anymore. The last ten didn't even wear that almost impenetratable armor.
All he had to do was kick the bastard one more time, and he flew off the roof.
Too bad, he fell with his weapon and ammo, too, but—
He had to clear that stoppage first, anyway.
'Good. You're handling this fine. How about my healing spell? It should have stopped the bleeding by now. And beyond that corner, you'll find two portals. Take the left one, and—'
"Hold on, hold on," Strelok protested, slamming the folding buttstock into the ground.
That finally did it, gave him enough leverage to cycle the bolt and dislodge the bullet, but—
"Healing spell? Portals?" he repeated, focusing all his attention on that voice now. "Like, I appreciate the help, but won't we talk about who you actually are?!"
It was so, so cold on that rooftop, and until now, only his AK felt warm.
But this strange-yet-familiar sensation in his chest—
Almost as if it came from reuniting with his sister.
'Don't want to disappoint, but I'm not her,' she said, ripping away part of that warmth. 'Speaking of which, aim better and spray less, Pavel, or your weapon will actually melt.'
Strelok froze. Forget warmth—his heart felt like it was on fire.
She said she wasn't her, but who even called him Pavel these days?
Or, like, in the previous decade?!
'Sorry, I did spend some time inside her head; must've picked it up there,' the voice noted. 'But if you hurry up, you could meet her soon as well. That's what I would recommend, at least.'
And yeah. He needed no extra motivation hearing that.
"Take the left portal?" he repeated, on the run again.
'Yes. It'll take you to ground level between the maintenance buildings. Go straight north, and the next one will take you back inside. I'll make sure the others take care of the voices by then.'
The others. So they were still alive.
Strelok lost contact once that parallel brain fell silent, and his PDA blacked out, too, but—
"Aren't you one of those voices as well?" he scoffed, heading towards the next portal.
His headache was as sharp as it was sudden.
The message was clear, but she spelled it out to him anyway.
'I'm not with them, idiot. Wasn't that already clear?'
And as the voice started to fade, so did that brutal headache.
'Hurry up. You made good progress, but now I'm steering Konrad's group faster as well. They're about to face all the soldiers they diverted from here, so don't forget about thanking them, too.'
Yeah. It had to be that parallel brain. But why the tone change?
"As if it matters," he grunted to himself, shaking his head.
If it told the truth, and he was about to reunite with his sister—
And now that he checked on his earlier gunshot wounds, the voice did, in fact, heal him, too.
He didn't have to swap his Artifacts from the anti-bleeding ones to the healing ones, at least.
Strelok only had to run, take the left portal, and—
Yes. Her prediction was also correct.
He was down on the ground, the radiation finally easing up compared to the rooftop. It wasn't hard to spot the worst of the danger zones, either; he was quite adept at that.
Burnt grass, swirling Anomalies—
These were missing from the roof, but now they led him forward like usual.
No more Monolith tried to ambush him, either, so that part must have been correct as well.
"Here's hoping that the kid can manage whatever's inside," he grunted at the next portal.
One last gun-check, the barrel no longer red-hot and the ammo restocked, and—
His thoughts finally caught up with him after all that running and action.
Was the voice telling the truth?
Would he actually see his long-lost sister again?
Like, sure, that was the entire reason he came to the Zone.
Of all the hurt, all the hard work, all the killing he had done.
The good and the bad—would they all pay off here?
What would he even say? How would she look? Would she remember?
"For fucks' sake," Strelok gritted out, slapping himself in the face. "That voice must have messed with my head, after all. I've never hesitated this much in my entire life."
And he wouldn't, either.
He would go in, free his sister, and do whatever it takes to save her.
Whatever it takes. Yes. Even if he had to die, or—
If he had to kill her.
What a weird thought, but—it felt like that voice had planted some hints deep inside his brain, too. But no matter how ugly they were, he was still taking that portal.