Savage Awakening 58. Fighting Fire With Fire (III) (Patreon)

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Zane raised an arm.

The cultists all ran, screaming, bolting through the trees in a hundred different directions. They were lost instantly in the foliage.

“Oh my god,” said the pretty blonde girl. She seemed near tears. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! If you weren't here they would’ve—”

“Duck,” spat Zane.

She blinked. …What?

“If you enjoy living,” said Zane, “Duck. All of you.”

Essence started to gather along the ridge of his arm. They still stared, dumbfounded. “Now!”

Screaming, they dropped to the ground. Zane let out a tight breath. His arm seared red-hot, pulsing with his fury.

He let it loose.

Rising Sun Slash!

He whipped his arm. The slash ripped out in a full circle. It moved out like ripples in a pond. Incredibly violent, screeching ripples laden with Laws of Fire and Sharpness, seething with enough essence to down a World Ranker.

They were there and gone in a flash.

He looked around and saw the scorching, glowing red marks they made against the trunks of the trees. It took a second—then they fell, crashing into one another, shoving each other over like huge crackling dominoes, showing more trees stacked behind—and they too had a stark red line running down the middle. There was a massive snapping, massive groaning, a massive thundering thumping, as though the whole forest was caving in at once.

The stragglers screamed, covered their ears, ducked into little balls. Zane just watched impassively.

Forty or fifty trees, he guessed. That was how far the slash cut.

But bark wasn't the only thing it cut. There were some stones bisected. The tops of hills lopped off. But what interested Zane was the flesh.

After the thundering stopped, the screaming stayed behind. Zane had to hop on a tree stump to see them properly. The fallen trees got in the way. And besides, it was much harder to see a man when he'd been cut in two.

Many had been split right at their waists. They stared at their bottom halves in dumb shock. Some had been lopped off at the legs. They watched as the fire spread out from the cut, swallowing up the thighs, the calves, the feet. Climbing up their torsos, roaring down their arms.

Soon they were nothing but ash.

Zane looked to the skies and breathed in, breathed out, trying to control the simmering rage in his chest.

It was almost funny. He never would have thought he, of all people, would have anger issues. He wasn't used to feeling such intense emotion so quickly—they just… swept him along.

He didn’t regret destroying those fools. But he did wish he'd stayed a little more cool-headed. Reina was like a chink in his armor—but he couldn't be frothing every time someone insulted her. Even if they called her a…

He was getting angry again.

It occurred to him that the logic of his vengeance was that they’d tried to kill him.

But all the feeling behind it came from Reina. That seemed… off. He should probably work on that.

“Can someone,” he growled, “Please give me some fucking directions?”

When he looked at one of the boys, this burly, shaggy Berserker, the boy screamed. Then the boy seemed to realize Zane was not about to kill him.

“Yes, sir,” he babbled. “To the gorge, sir?”

“Say it.”

“Um—it's—it's part of Cult territory, sir. It's built inside the palace! It's where Prince Kyle throws people he doesn't like—he murders people with it, sir!”

“My boyfriend, Rob, he tried standing up to him,” said the blonde girl. She looked weepy. “That—that bastard just kicked him in… you have to stop him! There’s thousands of us still stuck in there! They’re working us to death, mister—please, you’ve got to listen to us!”

She was on her knees, staring hopefully up at him, almost like she was praying to him. It made him a little uncomfortable.

“Stand up," he said, “All of you." He looked at the sky, dragging another deep breath, and sighed.

He could feel a detour coming on. And at this point, he was pretty much committed. Fuck it.

“What Level is their leader, this Neil Elliott?”

“Sixty-seven,” said the boy. "But he's in seclusion—no one knows where he is. His son Kyle’s in charge right now."

"And what Level is he?"

“Fifty-eight.”

Zane nodded. "And they're the strongest?"

“There's a few like Kyle, but... pretty much, yeah," said the boy.

For a while, Zane was silent.

“Um… mister?” said the girl timidly. "What are you thinking?"

He was annoyed. “I was hoping to get in some dungeon crawling before the day was over."

That was looking less and less likely. He did some back-of-the-napkin math. It was early afternoon now… could you depose a whole regime before nightfall, and go in in time to fight a Boss?

Seemed doubtful.

He sighed. This Neil Elliott, with his demon summoning shenanigans… Zane hoped he'd put up a good fight. Otherwise there’d be none to be had for today, probably. He'd been so hyped up, too.

There was the logistics too to worry about, now he was thinking on it—after he wiped out the regime, he'd have to think about the people living there. He had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn’t be in any condition to fend for themselves after he freed them. He'd leave a message for Reina and explain everything… he felt a little guilty. She'd been working so hard lately. Now he was throwing another territory for her to integrate, out of the blue. What a mess.

“Sir?” said the boy. He and the blonde girl seemed to be the leaders of this ragtag group. They seemed to be about college age. About his age. Yet, just looking at them, and him—they almost seemed like different species.

“I'll clear this Cult for you,” said Zane. "Just show me the way."

“Um,” said the boy, “are you saying you mean to go on by yourself? Like—right now? Aren't you going to call for—for backup or…”

He trailed off under Zane's gaze.

"I’ll ask one last time," said Zane calmly. "Which way is the Gorge?"

They guided him to the edge of the forest. There was a no man's land stretching a couple of hundred yards, pocked with craters, run through with barbed wire. And beyond, this ugly, looming gray wall glowing with all kinds of runes. Turret towers peeked over the top. Guards walked down the wall's length, longbows in hand, patrolling.

“That'll be all,” said Zane. “Don't follow me until the screaming stops.”

They all nodded nervously—except for the blonde girl, who bit her lip. “Mister—I don’t, um, mean to question you, but—you should know there's turrets there that are powered by huge stashes of mid-grade essence stones! I've seen them kill a Level 40 in one shot. And even worse, there's this huge cannon back there—it's meant to take out whole armies—if you go out there alone, they'll all be trained on you at once! I—I really think, um—”

Zane sighed. This is why he liked to go solo. There was the rare teammate like Reina or Avery who just got it. Most of the time, he found other people a drag.

He was just about to explain to the girl what the difference was between him and the Level 40s she'd seen. Then he realized there was an easier way to explain.

He just walked out into the open. He heard her squeak behind him. His Chains fell to the ground by his side, rattling the earth; the Axe heads dragged, plowing long furrows down the barren land. His legs caught on chunks of barbed wire—and plowed right through. The trousers were shredded. But his legs were hardly tickled.

He was pleased. So Spirit Steel Body passed its first field test.

Time to see just how much more it could do. The guards had noticed him by now; they shouted, gesturing madly. The turrets swerved to face him. He cocked his head and waited. They started glowing with power…

Then, all at once, they fired.

***

Chloe screamed.

The world went white. For a few seconds, all she could hear was ringing. She almost couldn't bear to look. How many turrets had fired on him at once? She couldn't even count—fifteen? Twenty?

It was like watching a building collapse on someone. It didn't matter how strong he was—how could any man survive that?

Yet…

She made herself look, hoping against hope—and gasped. Her hands went to her mouth.

He hadn't just survived. The front side of his shirt had been crisped, torn open, but the skin underneath—flawless.

He looked faintly bored.

He hadn't even thrown up a shield! He just… took it!

He shrugged and kept walking, and the shouts from the guards grew panicked now. Rows of them drew and fired and drew and fired. He didn't bother blocking them, didn't even bother dodging them—like they were beneath his notice. They could’ve been raindrops falling on him. Raindrops that would have killed Chloe if they hit her.

“What the fuck?” said Thomas. His voice was high, shaking. “What the hell is he made of?!”

The Chains began to glow. He could’ve been taking a walk in the park.

Then a huge black steel mouth loomed over the parapets. Chloe's breath caught in her throat.

They’d brought out the Titankiller Cannon! It was a C-grade treasure, the most vicious she'd ever seen. She hadn't seen it since the Cult used it back in the Portland civil war—when the Cult had used it to crush their main rivals, the Riverwalkers, with one well-timed blast. A whole army—turned to dust. Just like that!

But the Savage Sage just kept walking. Even as the cannon lit up white, even as it spewed a wrecking ball of fire and shining steel, hundreds of tons of smoldering metal, so big it made him seem like an insect in comparison, about to be crushed.

He took the blast head-on.

Chloe opened her eyes when the world stopped shaking, not daring to believe. The turrets were one thing, but—

There he stood.

His clothes were in tatters. His hair was a wild mess. But he was smiling, baring white teeth.

She felt very faint. She didn’t even know what she was seeing—she just kept staring at him.

Then he threw his Axe.

The same red scars that had sliced so easily through the forest ran up the wall in giant streaks. She hadn't even seen them cut—one moment they weren't there, the next they were.

Then—as though it were not made of magically reinforced steel, as though it was just a massive chunk of butter—everything over the cut just… slid off. It felt so unreal. Steel was not supposed to move like that.

The crash threw her off her feet.

When Chloe Taylor picked herself back up, her heart was running wild in her chest. That kind of power in just one man—it just didn't even make sense!

When this Savage Sage first walked out toward that wall, she couldn't imagine how he'd even survive the turret blasts.

Then it felt like she’d seen something straight out of a superhero movie.

How could you hope to stop that man?

Now she couldn't begin to imagine what could possibly stand in his way.

Her mouth felt very dry. Her head swam.

He was like some angel of destruction, come to save her from this awful nightmare. She'd hoped so desperately, so many nights, for something to save her. She saw it now—the universe was fair after all—it’d finally answered her!

She thought about Kyle Elliott playing his cruel games in his little palace… she thought about the sneer on his face as he threw Rob over the edge. She remembered how utterly helpless she’d felt…

An angry joy blossomed in her chest. For the first time in months, her heart felt full. She felt full of hope.

You just wait, you bastard, she wiped away tears. Judgment’s coming for you!