Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 35 - The Red Terror (Patreon)

Weakness is not to be tolerated. The moment we show anything less than absolute strength, we lose everything. That’s just how Nova City works.

Nora Lancaster

I sat in the private room, massaging my temples with my knuckles. It had been six weeks since I’d begun my conquest of the Emporium, and in that time, everything had changed. Not only had I fought my way through a dozen battles against proven gladiators, but I’d also continued with my plan to bring the city to its knees. And finally, after everything, my plans were beginning to bear fruit.

The entire Garden had come to a standstill after I brought down the third Silo. There were plenty more – dozens, in fact – and the city’s food output was only marginally affected by my direct actions. However, the indirect effects were making things much more difficult. Chiefly, the exodus from Nova City had reached a crescendo; anyone who could get out, had, and though there were still more than a million residents who’d remained – either by choice or because they had no other options – the decrease in population had brought production to a screeching halt. Contributing to that was the fact that, upon seeing those monuments to the city’s authority crumbling to the ground, people had lost all faith that the government could protect them.

Certainly, I’d made efforts to minimize civilian casualties, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of deaths waiting to be laid at my feet. And though that collateral damage weighed on me, I refused to let it affect my actions. After all, I’d always known that people were going to die. Some would be killed by my direct actions, but others would fall as a secondary effect. I was prepared for that.

Or so I thought. Still, seeing people starve was almost enough to break my resolve.

To distract myself, I’d chosen to focus on the things I could control. My training, primarily, though even that bore a grim reminder of the cost of my revenge. Every time I looked upon my status, I saw the results of my actions. Almost on instinct, I looked upon it once more:

I looked over my status, noting that many of my skills had progressed in strength, with four of the seven even gaining a tier. With those improvements came increasingly powerful modifiers that had made a noticeable difference in every facet of my combat strength. In addition, there were some quality-of-life improvements, like the decrease in the amounts of water and food I needed to survive. In short, I was deadlier and more effective than I’d ever been.

But what really garnered my attention was the sharp increase in levels. Gaining a single level represented dozens of kills, and I’d gained six of them in the past few weeks. Each time I brought down a Silo, I’d gained at least one level. Sometimes two.  And on the backs of murder, my power potential continued to climb.

I admit that there was a part of me that felt ashamed of that fact. Sure, the only way to gain levels was by killing things, which resulted in the absorption of a portion of their Mist. However, in the beginning, I’d always imagined that I would primarily progress via killing monsters. Now, though? I knew that every powerful person’s strength was built on a mountain of bodies. I was no different.

Of course, the guilt that came from that realization wasn’t enough to dissuade me from my quest for vengeance, but it certainly didn’t make me feel good about myself. To distract myself, I delved a little more deeply into my status, opening the window for [Combat]:

I’d looked at it plenty of times over the past few weeks, but I was still a little disappointed that I wasn’t making faster progress. Part of it was because the grade of the skill was higher than the two skills that had fueled its evolution. Unless I was mistaken, that meant it took twice as long to progress, but when it did, it provided much more potent benefits. A necessity, given how limited skill slots were, even for me. Even so, getting the different branches to Tier-1 had resulted in a marked increase in my damage, not to mention the bonuses I’d gotten from pushing the movement branch to the second tier. I moved on to the next skill tree:

Despite my incognito foray into Biloxi and my constant use of Mimic, the various branches of [Infiltration] hadn’t seen quite the growth that [Combat] had. Still, I’d managed to bring everything up to Tier-1, which resulted in more powerful modifiers. I was looking forward to some of the abilities that came with the higher tiers of mastery, though. Next, I moved to the skill tree for [Mistrunning]:

Like [Infiltration], my growth in [Mistrunning] had lagged a little behind [Combat]. However, I was still happy with the growth of each branch. Particularly, I found that having a stronger Mistwall gave me peace of mind. Finally, I looked at the skill tree for [Fieldcraft]:

The only branch of [Fieldcraft] that had progressed to Tier-2 was Utility, granting me increased Combat Focusand Regeneration, but I was more excited about the Universal Language ability. Few places would be like the Bazaar, where languages were automatically translated. Having that ability would mean that, once I’d finished with Nova City, I wouldn’t be limited by an inability to communicate, which was a comforting thought.

Eventually, I couldn’t distract myself any longer, and I started to think about what was coming. I didn’t think I’d fail in my current endeavor. None of the other gladiatorial fights in the Emporium had pushed me to the limit of my abilities. However, I knew that Ashleigh was a very different breed of opponent than the warriors I’d faced over the past few weeks. Not only was she strong and fast, but she was also an expert melee combatant.

So was I.

But was I good enough to beat her without resorting to my other options? I’d do so if it was the difference between living and dying, but if my plan was going to bear fruit, I needed to not only beat her, but also humiliate her by exposing her ineptitude. The moment I did, it would shine the spotlight on the Specters. Hopefully that would be enough to highlight the weaknesses of the entire Tribe and invite the sorts of challenges they weren’t equipped to deal with.

After all, with Jeremiah gone, much of their reputation hinged on the personal combat prowess of people like Ashleigh and Nora. If they were exposed as weaklings, then it wouldn’t take long before the city’s other Tribes decided to take their territory. Sure, the organization was likely strong enough to defend themselves, but doing so wouldn’t come without significant cost.

It was just one more way I was chipping away at them. By the time I was done, it would only take a little push to bring the entire thing crashing down. I couldn’t wait to see that happen.

But before that, I needed to beat Ashleigh, which was why I was sitting alone in the bowels of the Emporium, waiting as the weaker combatants got the crowd riled up for the main event. Even though I was deep underground, I could still hear their muffled roars as they clamored for more blood. More gruesome deaths. More violence to distract them from the state of their own lives.

I sighed, shaking my head in disgust as I stared at the room’s tiled floor. Fortunately, because of how high I’d climbed, I didn’t have to use the communal locker room anymore. Now, I had my own dressing area – not that I used it. I always fought in whatever outfit I’d worn upon my arrival.

Others weren’t so nonchalant about it, instead choosing to cultivate entire personas based around their outfits. I’d fought against one man who’d been wearing a broad-brimmed hat, jeans so tight I wondered how he could move, and a plaid shirt. He’d fought with his bare hands – a mistake even though they were cybernetic. I severed them at the elbow, then killed him via brutal decapitation.

The next fight had been against a crowd favorite wearing a few strings that were supposed to be lingerie of some sort. She’d flipped around like a gymnast, displaying truly incredible balance. But she also moved in patterns, which made it easy to bisect her at the waist. She didn’t look so sexy with her guts decorating the concrete floor of the arena.

My third and fourth opponents had both been far more difficult, though for different reasons. One had been a hulking man who seemed to have just as many mechanical parts as Gunther’s cyborg guards. It was high-quality stuff, too, judging by how ineffective my sword was. Of course, everything has weaknesses, and it only took me a few minutes to find the seams. After that, it was child’s play to take him apart. When I was done, he was little more than a disembodied head and a pile of scrap metal.

The fourth was probably my most challenging opponent, mostly because he was so hard to pin down. Not because he was fast. He was, but not as fast as me. Instead, he had some sort of skill that made it difficult to focus on him. One second, I was watching him, and the next, he was burying a dagger in my back. Thankfully, once I saw his little trick, I could account for it, but that first strike had been almost enough to do me in.

After that, I hit my stride and acclimated to the sort of combat I could expect in an arena. Once I was in the right mindset, I didn’t have any more close calls, and I cut all my opponents down in record time.

And that was how I’d earned the right to challenge Ashleigh, the Emporium’s champion. She’d fought hundreds of battles in the arena, and she’d never been pushed to her limits. But then again, she’d never fought anyone like me, either. I was looking forward to ripping her apart.

After all, while she might not have been complicit in the actions that had gotten my uncle killed, I found it difficult to believe that she hadn’t at least known it was coming. On top of that, she’d fallen into line right behind the woman truly responsible for Jeremiah’s death. That was enough to condemn her, at least in my mind.

So, I was going to enjoy killing her.

For the next hour-and-a-half, I sat in that room, awaiting my turn. Then, finally, a woman appeared to escort me to the arena. I didn’t say a word, instead choosing to follow her through the twisting maze of tunnels that eventually made their way up to the gate that would lead to the floor of the arena. I was just in time to see a pair of workers dragging a partially dismembered body away. I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand.

Or more importantly, on the gate positioned directly across the arena from where I stood. Behind it was my opponent – a woman I desperately needed to kill. I summoned my nano-bladed sword from my Arsenal Implant, briefly startling the woman who’d escorted me topside.

At last, once the arena was clear, the announcer’s voice echoed through the Emporium, silencing the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer thundered. “Tonight, we have a special treat. The Sword Saint has challenged the Red Terror!”

Red Terror. Such an unimaginative name, but the crowd didn’t seem to care. They loved her, as much because of her brutality as because she fought completely naked. Originally, she’d claimed that it was a tribute to ancient gladiators who’d done the same, but I knew it was meant to increase her popularity. Like everyone else, she knew that in Nova City, sex was on everyone’s minds. I found it disgustingly manipulative, but it was the least of my issues with the woman. Besides, I already hated and intended to kill her. Adding a little more fuel to the fire wasn’t going to make much of a difference.

The announcer went on, describing our attributes. He crowed about Ashleigh’s record of brutality and commitment to her so-called code of honor. As far as I knew, it was all completely made-up. She had no honor, else she wouldn’t have let Nora sentence my uncle to death. But the crowd ate it up.

When the announcer described me, he talked about my lack of frills and cold demeanor. He claimed that I was there to punish the debauched, implying some sort of idiotic religious bent. It was nonsense, but I didn’t care. The crowd clearly loved it, though. Or at least some of them. Others made their displeasure known by calling out curses and throwing boos in my direction. Clearly, I was not the crowd favorite Ashleigh was.

Of course, I considered that a good thing.  Attaining the approval of the bloodthirsty masses would have given me pause. That I hadn’t was something of a badge of honor. Or perhaps I was merely making excuses to assuage my ego. Either way, the announcer soon finished his introductions, and the gate slid open.

I walked out, barely noticing the holographic display hanging above the arena. It would give the crowd an unimpeded view of the fight, even for those with the cheapest seats.

My attention was on Ashleigh, who was striding into the arena, waving at her adoring fans as if she’d already won. When we were only fifteen feet apart, Ashleigh grinned at me, saying, “Get on your knees right now, little girl. Do that, beg me to spare you, and maybe I’ll just take you into my harem. You’re a bit too ugly – even my boys are prettier than you – but I’ll make an exception.”

I remained silent, staring her in the eyes, focusing on the warpaint she’d donned. If I looked anywhere else, I’d have to see her naked body – or what was left of it. Her arms and legs were cybernetic, but her torso, groin, and head remained unmarred by the red enameled  mechanical parts.

She rolled her metallic shoulders, then said, “Suit yourself, then.”

After that, she hefted the massive hammer that was her weapon and adopted a fighting stance. I raised my sword, angling my body so as to present a slimmer profile. Then, the announcer roared, “Begin!”