A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay 42 (Patreon)

A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay
Chapter 42

-VB-

I struck first again.

Unlike last time, the Fallen mooks and leaders quickly spread apart, but now, they had to divide their attention into two.

Amy’s Spirit Jaguars roared as they pounced on the mooks unlucky enough to be close to them. With strength and speed unmatched by any land predator, these jaguars cleared nearly thirty yards in a single jump in under a second and latched onto their targets before biting into the backs of their heads. The Fallen mooks turned their guns upon the jaguars, and fired.

RATATATATATATAT-!

P-P-P-P-P-Ping-!

ROAR!

CRUNCH!

“FUCK-!”

While they fought in the back, I wove through the rain of bullets fired upon me by the second Fallen cape’s ethereal replicas of their - her? - M16 rifle. They floated about her and fired upon me like some kind of upgraded version of Crusader and Miss Militia’s powers.

But I was too goddamn fast for her!

With a sweeping jump, I blurred across the air above their heads and then landed right behind her.

And then I punched.

My fist slammed into her back while she was half-turning and half-stumbling, and broke through her ribcage. Her toros wobbled as she spat up blood, but I didn’t stop there. Before she was even halfway fallen, my other hand lashed out with a fist and slammed into the back of her head.

And crunch!

She faceplanted with the back of her head caved in and all of her torso’s bones shattered.

She was dead even before she hit the ground.

A quick and nearly painless death.

I turned to the other two capes.

“T-This isn’t what they said about you!” the one that I had phased through laughed nervously while the other…

“You killed my sister!” he roared and launched himself at me.

To my surprise, he threw a punch.

And I got even more surprised when fifty fists appeared out of nowhere and slammed into me from all directions.

“How do you like th-?”

I lashed out, grabbed his forearm, and squeezed.

It snapped underneath my fingers, and he screeched in agony.

My other hand struck out and grabbed his throat.

And squeezed.

His face didn’t even discolor before his spine snapped.

For good measure, I shook him around like a ragdoll and then dropped him next to his sister.

The last of the Crowley capes looked at me before shaking his head.

“This is nothing like the information said…. They deceived us!” he hissed quietly but I heard it nonetheless.

“You lot worship Leviathan,” I hummed. “It’s ironic that you die in this city.”

Was I possibly taking out my frustration of my near-death by Leviathan on these Fallen?

Yeah. Yeah, I was.

“Grrrrr….”

I looked around and saw the Spirit Jaguars prowling forward and then circling closely around me. Looking back, I saw none of the other cultists alive and standing. All of them had either their throats or the backs of their heads chewed open.

It was a very jaguar thing to do. I wondered if Amy knew about their hunting techniques and made them do this on purpose. If so, then I was going to tell her how vicious she was.

Hearing soles on asphalt, I turned back to the cape to look at him run.

I blinked.

Huh.

Well.

I let him run for ten more seconds.

“Get him.”

And the jaguars ran forward. It almost looked like they were competing with each oth-. Oh, oh yeah. They were.

For an instant, normal attacks didn’t work on the guy. The jaguars phased through him like I had.

And then they tried Qi-infused attacks.

The Fallen cultists screamed as he collapsed with bleeding ankles.

The jaguars all pounced on him immediately.

When his scream cut off soon after that, I only felt pity.

Pity that it didn’t last longer for the cruel fucker.

I gathered all of the Crowleys in one pile and wondered what I should do. Burning their bodies would be disrespectful, but it wouldn’t be lasting and some would see it as a blessing even because their bodies would be spared the humiliating desecration.

‘I have changed,’ I thought to myself as I stared at the pile of bodies. I used to want nothing to do with the cape scene. It was only after Amy brought me headlong into it that I … No, it wasn’t that Amy was responsible for the change but rather that I knew even before I became a cape that I would be a violent killer.

What else was a cultivator if not that?

More than that, I was a vengeful person, both as Alan Marris of Bet and myself from my original world. I let a lot of things go under the bridge because they weren’t worth the time, but things that truly pissed me off…?

I’ve done some shit. None of it permanent but I’ve done some pretty cruel shit.

I looked once again over the pile of dead cultists.

What to do to them?

They came after me and my family. I wanted their deaths to be used as a message, but how could I do that?

I looked again and then noticed the cultists’ uniforms and the unique outfits of the capes.

An idea popped into my head.

-VB-

The next day in Downtown...

“What are you doing?” Amy asked me as she and Vicky accompanied me to Downtown. I carried a large plywood board with me and a cardboard box filled with clothes.

She gave me her best “I know you’re up to something” look. You know, the ones patented by wives and mothers alike?

Yes, that one.

“Nothing too crazy,” I grinned.

It only made her suspicion worse.

I set the board down against a wall and the box next to it. Opening the box, I pulled out the first costume.

An Endbringer cultist cape’s costume. 

I pulled out a hammer and some nails from a box of nails within the larger cardboard box and nailed that costume to the board before clearing my throat and turning to the now somewhat curious public.

“Come right up, come right up! It’s only five dollars to punch a hole in an authentic Endbringer cultist cape’s costume! Form a line and step right up!” I advertised loudly.

Taking a photo of myself with the dead cultists would not sit well with some people, allies and enemies alike. Hanging them as they deserved would be seen as archaic.

But taking only their costumes after turning in their bodies and getting paid by the people to let them hammer a nail into the already nailed costume?

The eager looks some people gave me were priceless.

Amy and Vicky just looked at me with shocked exasperation from the sideline as did many other heroes who came by to see the spectacle as the day dragged on.

Now, this was what I called petty revenge!