Chapter 204 - Trapped (Patreon)

Zeke swung his mace with all his might. The weapon hissed as it cut through the air before colliding with the translucent, blue barrier. It hit with enough force to crush Jariq’s wall to dust, but the encircling shield barely rippled at the application of titanic force. A sound like the world’s largest gong echoed through the council chambers, but the shield remained intact. On its heels followed maniacal laughter.

“Such a brute!” cackled Desmond White, the Sultan of Jariq. He spread his hands out wide, gloating as he added, “This shield is powered by the city itself! Your strength is no match for the might of Jariq!”

Zeke wanted nothing more than to rail against the shield, to pummel into submission. However, he knew that was mostly his still-active skill clouding his mind. If what White claimed was true – and the man had few reasons to lie, as far as Zeke could tell, then he could hammer at the shield for days before he’d break through. Zeke had seen the runic formations on the walls, so he had some inkling of how the shield worked.

He preferred brute force, and usually, that was all the situation called for. Even when everything else failed, Zeke could always rely on his monumental strength. But he knew he had to resist the urge to give into his instincts. He needed to be smart. Logical. He needed to seek another way.

But first, he wanted to talk.

“How many here are the so-called Eyes of the Spider?” he asked.

“Where did you hear that name?” demanded White.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Zeke said, glancing at the other men and women present. There were eight of them, and unless he missed his guess, at least half were the leaders of the assassin’s guild. Likely, they were the city’s true rulers; they merely let White play at being the Sultan because it kept the attention away from them. That way, they could take action where they deemed necessary without all the consequences of a public outcry. Idly, Zeke wondered if White even knew how superfluous he really was.

Probably not. Zeke’s interactions with the man so far had not painted a flattering picture of the Sultan of Jariq.

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner?!” demanded the enraged sultan. As he spoke, he jabbed his finger in Zeke’s direction, and spittle flew from his mouth. “I am the –”

“Enough, Desmond,” a thin, hooded figure said, interrupting the man. He reached up, pushing the hood back to reveal blonde hair and an unremarkable face. “You ask about the Eyes as if you know of us.”

“I do,” Zeke agreed.

“Carlos has been running his mouth, hasn’t he?” the man asked, smirking. Zeke took the opportunity to [Inspect] him, and he was unsurprised to see that he was a level twenty-five named Lucius. No surname. Or if he had one, it was hidden.

“Does it matter?” Zeke asked. “You’ve got me trapped in his box, don’t you? What do you want?”

“Your death,” Lucius said. “Or your acquiescence.”

“Yeah – that’s not going to happen,” Zeke stated. As he spoke, he pushed his anger to the back of his mind and drowned his consciousness in his artisan’s path. The shield was the result of runecrafting, and as such, he should be able to unravel it, so long as he had enough time.

“You say that,” Lucius countered, raising his finger. Then, adopting a sing-song cadence, he added, “But I know something you don’t know.”

“And what’s that?” Zeke asked, splitting his attention between the thin man and the runic formation. It was a complex piece that had clearly been created by a master. Zeke knew that, even if he was given years, he couldn’t replicate such a feat. But just because he couldn’t build it didn’t mean he couldn’t tear it apart.

Breaking something was almost always easier than building it, after all.

“Right now, there are nearly six-hundred Spiders closing in on our position,” Lucius stated. “Most of them are evolved. They are the elites of our organization.”

Zeke shrugged. “I’ve killed a lot of Spiders,” he said. “A few hundred more won’t bother me all that much.”

The man tapped his long index finger on his chin, acknowledging, “You are a talented killer. I will give you that. But until this moment, you’ve mostly been faced with the chaff of our little organization. The dregs. The ones we allow into the light so no one bothers searching the shadows. The coming force is like nothing you have ever seen.”

“I don’t know,” Zeke said, his mind tracing the path of the glyphs and symbols that comprised the runic formation. The thing was dizzyingly complex, and focusing on it for more than a few seconds gave Zeke a headache. Luckily, the pain suppression that came with his racial transformation made it bearable. “I’ve seen a lot.”

“No doubt!” Lucius said. “And you may be equipped to survive even that. But your friends? I have it on good authority that they are far less durable than you.”

That’s when Zeke realized that none of his friends had uttered a single word since his capture. He glanced back, splitting his concentration once again, and his focus was nearly shattered when he saw Abby lying on the ground. However, relief flooded his mind when he noticed the steady rise and fall of her chest.

His eye flicked to where he felt Pudge, and he almost cried out when he saw that the bear was shackled and muzzled with more blue energy. Pudge struggled weakly against his bonds, but it was no use. Alarm slithered through the bond, slowed and diluted by the walls of energy that encased Zeke.

Finally, he looked for Talia, but she was nowhere to be seen. However, there were three fresh bodies near the door. Fresh blood pooled on the floor, staining the marble crimson.

“The undead girl escaped,” Lucius acknowledged. “But she will not last long. We have brought in some specialists, after all. Hunting zombies is what they do. They will find her, and they will slay her. All for the greater good, of course.”

Zeke ground his teeth in frustration as he stared at the state of his friends. Upon closer inspection, a series of darts protruded from Abby’s neck, announcing that she’d been poisoned or tranquilized. And Pudge’s plight seemed related to Zeke’s own, given the flavor of the energy shackles. Everyone was still alive, but in Zeke’s increasingly anger-infected mind, that didn’t matter.

“Over and over,” Zeke growled, turning back to face Lucious.

“What was that?” the thin man asked, a smirk playing across his lips. “You need to use your big boy voice.”

“I’ve given you one chance after another,” Zeke continued, paying no heed to the man’s words. “And yet, at every turn, you’ve proven exactly what you are. Vermin in need of extermination.”

Zeke raised his eyes to lock gazes with the leader of the Spiders, and in that moment, he was reminded of all the ways they’d tried to kill him or his companions. And finally, Zeke had had enough. Finally, he decided to let his anger take control.

With a roar that shook the very souls of the council members of Jariq, Zeke swung his mace. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t measure his strength. He just let loose with a blow driven by more than stats. It was propelled forth by his anger. His frustration. His desire to end the threat.

The head of the mace hit with thunderous force, and a cascade of ripples spread from the point of impact. More, the very ground shook, The expensive and garish paintings that hung from the council chamber’s walls fell to the marble floor, which bucked and swayed under Zeke’s influence. It was as if a small, localized earthquake had hit the building, and a couple of the council members were caught off guard. They tumbled to the floor with twinned yelps of surprise.

But the Lucius held firm.

So did the shield.

Zeke swung again. And again. Over and over, like a berserker who’d been pushed past his limits. All around him, the building bucked and swayed, but it remained intact. The shield was in constant motion, rippling with massive waves of blue energy. But it did not fall. It didn’t shatter. As far as Zeke could tell, his efforts were completely pointless, except to allow him to vent some of his frustration.

And to build momentum.

Rarely did Zeke get the opportunity to swing all-out, and almost never in a battle. Usually, he had to measure his swings, balancing quickness and control against power. But against the shield? He let himself use the full force of his considerable strength. As such, the pool of momentum at his disposal continued to build.

When Zeke finally slowed, Lucius asked in a mild voice, “Are you done?”

“Fuck you.”

“So much anger,” the man said, shaking his head. “Surely, you can see that you have been completely outmaneuvered here. But there is a way out.”

With a flourish, he produced a subtly glowing piece of parchment. “This is a contract,” he said. “Specially prepared, just for you. The terms aren’t onerous. You will merely work for us, subordinate only to me. Many Spiders would kill for such an opportunity, but I give it to you freely. Together, we can conquer this whole world, and –”

Zeke spat towards the man, cutting him off. Of course, the glob of saliva never reached him. Instead, it hit the shield, where it was evaporated by the blue energy.

“Or, we could do it the other way,” Lucius said, his voice going cold. He glanced back at one of the other council members and added, “Bring me the girl.”

“Leave her alone!” Zeke railed, aiming another strike at the shield. It was just as useless as the last dozen.

“Tsk, tsk,” the man said, shaking his head sadly. “I wonder when you’ll concede. After she loses one finger? Two? A hand, perhaps? Maybe when we cut up that pretty face of hers…”

Zeke turned him out. The whole time he’d been trapped, he’d been slowly working his way through the runes powering the shield, but he’d yet to find the weak point. As the other robed council member approached Abby’s prone form, time seemed to slow. Finally, Zeke found the runic formation’s lynchpin, and with a flick of thought, severed it from the rest of the glyphs and symbols.

Immediately, the shield dimmed by a miniscule amount. Not enough for others to notice, but plenty to tell Zeke he’d accomplished his goal of cutting the formation off from its unseen energy source.

“Stop.”

The council member – a woman, Zeke noticed – froze, and Lucius glanced at Zeke. “Already?” he gloated. “I expected more mettle than that. But I suppose disappointment is a part of life. Are you ready to bind yourself to us?”

“I have a counter-offer,” Zeke said.

“This is not a negotiation.”

“Not for you,” Zeke stated. “For the others. I don’t know what role you’ve played in all of this, but I assume that Lucius was the driving force. So, I’m willing to give you all this one chance. Kill him now, and I will spare you. Don’t, and I’ll be forced to treat you as the enemies you’ve shown yourselves to be.”

Zeke desperately wanted them to resist, to pick the path that would put them squarely in his sights. And predictably, given that he was still confined by the blue shield, they did just that. Some of them even chuckled at this hubris, and Lucius cackled once again.

“Defiant to the last,” the head of the Spiders said. “That’s why I want you on my side. There’s no quit, even when all logic says you should do so. A smart man would sign the contract, save his friends, and bask in the glory and wealth an alliance with our guild will inevitably bring.”

“Nobody’s ever accused me of being smart,” Zeke said. Indeed, most of the time, he was a brute. He rarely thought problems through, and when he did, he just wasn’t creative enough to come up with elaborate schemes. The best he could usually do was to alter his tactics a little and throw some rocks at his enemies. A genius, he definitely was not.

But he was strong. And strangely talented when it came to runes. That had proved enough to see him through most situations so far, and this one was no different.

“Fine,” Zeke said. Then, without warning, he swung his mace again, just like the dozen or so times he’d done before. This time, though, instead of rippling waves of redirected energy, the result was a spiderweb of cracks and fissures.

Lucius’s laughter cut off, and alarm laced his voice as he yelled, “Get the girl! He’s breaking through!”

Zeke ignored him, aiming another momentous strike at the shield. It shattered like thin glass, and suddenly, he was free. His first instinct was to leap at the surprised Lucius, but he was more concerned with Abby’s safety. So, he cut the approaching council member off with a vicious blow to her head.

Like all the others in the room, she was level twenty-five. However, levels were a poor gauge for a person’s true power, and her head exploded like a watermelon. Like so many Zeke had encountered, she was a paper tiger. Dangerous-looking enough, but ultimately flimsy.

A roar erupted from across the room, announcing that Pudge had broken free as well. The shackles that had bound him had clearly been linked to the shield, and when it had fallen, Pudge had shattered his own bonds. A bar of black-and-red fire sliced through two council members, melting their midsections, bisecting them. Judging by their anguished screams, it was not a painless way to die.

Zeke turned his attention to Lucius, who’d backed against a wall. Suddenly, Zeke felt an impact against his chest. Then his arms. His legs. It was as if a tornado of blades had descended upon him. Some scratched his armor, but, with how long he’d had [Heart of the Berserker] running, they were incapable of anything but cosmetic scrapes. Lucious narrowed his eyes, then a spear of wind pierced Zeke’s left pauldron.

Beneath his pain resistance, Zeke knew that the blow was agonizing. He could feel the shattered bones, the shredded flesh, and the torn ligaments. His left arm was very nearly separated from his torso, and it only managed to hang on by virtue of a few strips of dense muscle, which was further stabilized by his armor.

How low had his endurance gotten if a single strike could do so much damage? He had no talent for math, but judging by the results of that attack, it was dangerously low.

Luckily, even with one arm out of commission, Zeke was far from disabled. He thundered forward, his heavy steps cracking the marble floor as he cocked his right arm to deliver a backhanded blow. As he did so, he activated [Life Scythe], and a red mist bloomed around his mace. With a bit of concentration, he embraced his martial path as well, lending force and weight to his pending swing.

The mace cut through the air. Lucius’s eyes widened as he realized what was coming, and he threw up his hands in a feeble attempt to stop it. As he did so, Zeke felt a slight resistance, a thickening of the air, but, focusing on his martial path, he powered through the wall of wind. But while it wasn’t enough to stop his mace outright, Lucius’s last-ditch efforts weren’t for naught. Zeke’s attack went wide, and instead of destroying the man’s torso, Lucius’s right arm caught the brunt of the force. Flesh was rended. Bones crunched. And a wail of pure agony erupted into the air.

The haughty wind mage was sent flying through the air to crash into a wall. His body crumpled, and he sank to the ground, leaving a smear of blood to mark his passage. Zeke pounced, his mace leading the way with an overhand strike that destroyed whatever life the man had left.

Breathing hard, Zeke looked up. As he did so, he could feel the stolen vital energy mending the bones of his ruined shoulder back together. Already, he could move it. A few more attacks, and he’d have full range of motion. And luckily, there were some council members left to provide just the fuel he needed.

With grim determination, Zeke marched toward the huddled and terrified council members. As he did so, the Sultan of Jariq pleaded, “Please! We were not part of his plan!”

Zeke paid him no mind. Instead, he merely harvested the vital energy he required. When he was finished, there was nothing but a barely distinguishable pile of pulverized flesh and shattered bones where the rulers of Jariq had once cowered before him.