Mistrunner 2- Chapter 36 - Fall of a Champion (Patreon)

The entire world is open to me now. My future is brighter than it’s ever been. So, why can’t I stop thinking of the past?

Nora Lancaster

The hammer whistled through the air, barely missing me by an inch. The so-called Red Terror’s swing was so violent that its momentum sent her spinning around. I could have ended the fight right there; in only an instant, I saw a dozen vulnerable spots. But I restrained myself, dancing backward.

“Is that it?” I taunted. “All that talk, and that’s the best you can come up with?”

As Ashleigh recovered from the miss, she roared, then bounded in my direction. Her steps rattled the floor, and I was a little surprised that she didn’t leave cracked concrete in her wake. Her muscles bunched, and her cybernetic parts hissed with mechanical strength before she aimed a much more controlled strike at my torso. I leapt over it, then twisted in mid-air to dodge the follow up attack, landing a few more feet away.

“Too slow, lady,” I said, smirking at her. “Maybe I should offer to let you join my harem, huh? We could get you some new, more appropriate parts. Something sleek and sexy, maybe.”

Her face turned red – not in embarrassment, but rather in unrestrained fury – telling me that I was pushing all the right buttons. She attacked again, this time with a short jab, before following up with a more powerful swing that should have crushed my shoulder. The crowd gasped as I dismissed my sword, dodging the attack by only a hair’s breadth.

Dancing backward, I said, “You know what? I don’t even need my sword to beat you. For a little girl like you? I might not even need to make a fist. A good open-handed slap might be enough to put you down.”

Of course, I knew precisely how to needle her to the greatest effect because I could remember when she’d joined my uncle’s organization. Back then, she’d been a prostitute fresh off of murdering her pimp. I wasn’t sure how she got to the Specters, but back then, she had been nothing more than a slip of a girl. Since, she’d managed to completely remake herself into a fearsome warrior, but she’d never forgotten her past.

Neither had I.

It wasn’t enough just to beat Ashleigh. That would hurt Nora and the Specters, sure. But I didn’t only want to hurt them. I needed to humiliate them. And there was no better way to do that than to toy with their top thug before putting her down. Doing so wouldn’t just deprive Nora of an asset; it would go a long way toward ruining the tribe’s reputation. It was difficult to fear a group whose most powerful Operator was just embarrassed and beaten to death in the arena for everyone to see.

In theory, that was easy enough. But in practice, Ashleigh was still a dangerous fighter who could beat me if I didn’t take her seriously. Fortunately, she was notoriously hot tempered and easily enraged; it would have gotten her killed her sooner, but she truly was a talented combatant – even when she wasn’t in her right mind.

Luckily, I was better.

Barely. I could probably dodge her attacks for hours, which would eventually wear her out. But if I made one mistake, the power behind her hammer would pound me into paste. However, I didn’t want to drag the fight out and turn it into a battle of attrition. Instead, I intended to make a statement.

So, the first thing I did after dodging her initial barrage was to use Mark Target. Often, I forgot the skill even existed, mostly because, to date, it hadn’t really been necessary. Rare was the occasion when a few well-placed shots from my powerful weapons proved insufficient to kill my enemies. And when that had been the case in the past – like with the Wildling alpha that had nearly killed me – I’d been so panicked that I’d completely forgotten about the ability.

But I’d been working on adding it to my repertoire, and while it hadn’t quite reached the point where it was second nature, I was well on my way to reaching that mark.

The ability itself wasn’t complicated:

Mark Target (F) – Wreathe a target in Mist, preventing the activation of obfuscation abilities and increasing all damage done to the target by 15%.

A straight fifteen percent increase to all damage was an incredible modifier, which only proved how much of an idiot I’d been to ignore the ability. But the past was the past, and if I continuously dwelled on my mistakes, I’d lose sight of the present. Or the future. And I couldn’t allow that. Instead, I could only correct what I could correct and keep pushing forward. Any other strategy was doomed to failure.

When I used Mark Target, a cloud of blue Mist enveloped Ashleigh’s form, making her appear as if she was glowing. However, after testing it a few times, I knew that the Mist was only visible to me; almost assuredly, it was the anti-stealth portion of the ability. A useful utility, but not the one I cared most about at that moment.

I kicked off the ground, using Engage at the same time; the combined effect was almost as effective as true teleportation, and I covered the distance to Ashleigh so quickly. Then, I used Combination Punch. One punch. Two. Then, a third and a fourth strike – all in rapid succession. Each punch doubled the damage of the previous, so by the fourth attack, it hit with a force sixteen times greater than the first.

I was sorely tempted to activate the ability again, but there were two problems with that. First, I knew that standing still for any longer would almost assuredly get me killed. The woman’s skill with that hammer was nothing to underestimate, and if she managed to connect, it would almost assuredly spell my doom, my various defenses be damned.

Second, she staggered out of range, coughing up blood.

And that presented a perfect opportunity to taunt her again.

“Such weak defenses,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet as she struggled to straighten to her full height. The fans of the barbaric blood sport loved the banter between combatants, so my words were broadcast to the entire arena. “So disappointing for someone of your reputation. Perhaps you earned it in other ways. Like on your back.”

I hated the words even as they came out of my mouth. I knew Ashleigh hadn’t chosen her past. And even if she had, who was I to judge her choices? Still, it was a means to an end. Sowing the seeds of doubt and making everyone question whether or not her strength was real was as important as killing her.

I went on, “How much did it cost to fix your previous matches? Surely, that’s the only way you could hope to win. I don’t –”

With an enraged and wordless scream, she charged, her mechanical legs pumping. I leapt over her, spinning as I sailed a foot over her head. She tried to grab me, but her agility left a lot to be desired, so she came up empty handed, stumbling as we crossed paths. I landed lightly, then pivoted to face her. I could have attacked again. I knew it. The crowd knew it. And when Ashleigh turned back in my direction, I could see that she knew it as well.

Tears of anger streamed down her face. Blood coated her chin. And her side bulged in all the wrong places, evidence of her shattered ribs. Judging by her wheezing breaths, her lung was punctured as well. With an obviously high Constitution attribute, it probably wasn’t fatal, but it would definitely slow her down.

In any case, I had no intention of dragging it out any longer.  I’d proven my point. Anyone who’d watched the fight so far had to know that I’d been toying with the once-fearsome woman. Now, it was time to end it with a flourish.

I took a deep, steadying breath, but I kept my expression placid. Then, I erupted into an Engage, and I was on her in an instant. My sword reappeared in my hand, and I sliced out, aiming for the joint where the metal of her mechanical leg ended, and her flesh began. My first attack bit deep, stopping only when it reached her bone. Then, as I rushed past, I aimed a backhanded strike at the opposite side. The two wounds met, and though my impossibly sharp blade cut into her pelvic bone, it didn’t slice completely through.

However, as I stopped and turned, she tried to follow. But when she put weight on that leg, it collapsed under her. As she fell, I repeated the strike on her other leg, this time severing it completely.

She went to the ground, collapsing in a legless heap.

I wasn’t finished, though.

My nano-bladed sword dripping blood, I stepped toward her. Without her legs, she was mostly immobile, but Ashleigh wasn’t one to give up without a fight. She scratched and clawed, trying to swing at me, but her efforts were ineffectual. I kicked her in the face, splattering more blood across the concrete. Then, stamping down on her arm, I raised my sword high into the air. It fell with inevitable speed, severing her arm at the shoulder.

She cried out, but I ignored it, kicking her again.

The crowd went silent as I stepped over her. Again, my sword fell. Again, her mechanical arm flopped to the ground, a lifeless hunk of metal.

Without arms and legs, Ashleigh was just a pitiful, naked torso. For a long second, I stood over her, looking down at the pitiable sight. Such a proud, powerful warrior, reduced to nothing. It was a brutal world, and her easy defeat just proved that no matter how strong you thought you were, there was always someone more powerful.

And it was only a matter of time before your number came up.

I knelt beside her. Predictably, she tried to squirm away, but her efforts were useless.

“Just finish me, you cunt,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“Not yet,” I said. Then, I gripped her chin before leaning close to her ear. Once I was only a few inches away, I whispered, “This is what you get for your betrayal. Did you think I would forget? Did you think I would just let it stand?”

“Betrayal?” she hissed. “I don’t even know you!”

“Oh, but you do,” I said, my voice too low for the arena’s recorders to pick it up. “I remember when you joined my uncle’s organization. You were even more pitiful, then. All flesh and bone, not this mechanical monstrosity. But I liked you better back then. Do you know why?”

She stared at me in horror. “Mirabelle,” she muttered. “H-how did –”

“I liked you better because, back then, you were loyal,” I stated. Then, before she could respond, I dismissed my sword, reactivated Combination Punch, then, using the Hand of God, aimed a barrage of strikes at her face. The first didn’t do much more than break her nose. The second shattered the bones in her cheek. The third collapsed half her face. And the fourth went completely through her skull, ending with my cybernetic fist mashing her brain to pulp.

Then, I stood, shook the brain matter from my hand, and calmly walked back toward my gate. For my first few steps, the crowd was completely silent, stunned as they were by the sudden and brutal end of the fight.

But that didn’t last long.

After a few seconds, they erupted into roaring applause. As the crowd went wild, the announcer declared my victory, driving them to greater heights of excitement.

I barely heard any of it. Dismissing my sword, I kept my back straight and my shoulders square – at least until I passed through the gate and into the arena’s staging area. I was just about to relax when I saw that there were dozens of people inside. A few were medical attendants, and some were the staff dedicated to cleaning the arena, but the ones that really drew my eye were the media people.

That’s when it hit me that beating the longtime champion of the Emporium was a big deal. Everyone was clamoring for my attention, personal recording devices hovering above their owners’ shoulders as they provided narration.

“The Sword Saint is once again victorious…”

“She handled the Red Terror without even batting an eyelash!”

“Miss Saint – this seemed personal…”

I ignored them all, pushing through the crowd. The sea of people parted after an angry glare, and I disappeared into the tunnel. After a few twists and turns, I left everyone behind. That’s when I activated Stealth and ducked into a janitorial closet.

There, surrounded by various cleaning supplies, I sank to my knees and finally let my emotions out. Tears traced lines down my cheeks, and my shoulders trembled with heavy sobs.

Killing people was one thing, but what I’d just done to Ashleigh was a complete deconstruction of who she was as a person and fighter. I’d left her nothing; even her accomplishments in the arena would now be tainted. Perhaps they wouldn’t be completely forgotten, but I’d cast enough doubt that it would be impossible for the people of Nova City to ignore.

And what’s more, there was a time – not that long ago, really – when I had liked Ashleigh. Just like I’d liked Nora. Both had been kind to me, once upon a time, and while I hadn’t been nearly as close to the so-called Red Terror as I had to Nora, I wasn’t so cold-hearted that I could be unaffected by what I’d just done to her.

It also forced me to question my path. Up until that point, I hadn’t killed people I knew – not in my old life, at least. Instead, my kill count was populated by a bunch of nameless mooks. But not anymore.  And killing someone just hit differently when it wasn’t shrouded by anonymity.

Was it a hint of what I could expect when I finally killed Nora?

Maybe. But where Nora had actively betrayed my uncle, Ashleigh and the others had only stood aside as it had happened. Did that make them less guilty? Did that make them less worthy of my ire? Of my vengeance?

I wasn’t sure.

But killing Ashleigh had been one of the most difficult things I’d ever done. Not physically – that had been easy enough. With my recent gains, few could match the combination of my raw attributes, skills, and abilities. Certainly, there were plenty of people who could – my uncle wasn’t the only old monster to have survived to thrive in the post-Initialization world – but that number didn’t include Ashleigh. Instead, the difficulty lay in the emotional effects of what I’d done.

I hadn’t been ready for that.

I don’t know how long I remained in that closet, crying over something that didn’t really deserve my tears. Maybe it wasn’t even about Ashleigh. For weeks – probably even months – I’d been pushing my emotions to the back of my mind as I focused on taking the next step in my plan. And it had obviously taken its toll on my emotional health.

Any reasonable person would have taken a step back, perhaps thought of a different way. But the path of vengeance wasn’t reasonable. It required unnatural dedication, even through the emotional turmoil that came with exacting revenge.

I did wonder if there would be anything left of me when I was finally finished.

Probably not. But I couldn’t let that stop me. Not until it was done. My uncle’s memory demanded as much.

So, after a while, I stood, wiped my eyes, then changed into a different set of clothes I had nestled in my Arsenal Implant. With that done, I changed my face via Mimic, and set out from the bowels of the Emporium, content that I’d accomplished one more task on the way to completing my plan of vengeance.

No one paid attention to me as I made my way out of the Emporium. Once I found a shadowy alley where no one would see me, I summoned my Cutter, made sure that it was disguised by Mimic, and set off back to Algiers. It was the middle of the night, which meant that traffic was predictably light; however, with the mass exodus from the city, it was even more sparse than the time would indicate. So, I made good time, arriving back at my compound in only thirty minutes.

As I stepped out of the elevator and into the living quarters, I was confronted by nothing but emptiness. It was only then that I realized how much I’d been looking forward to seeing Patrick. Of late, he’d spent less and less time at home, which meant that I rarely saw him. Part of that was my fault, given that I didn’t even always sleep there. But I couldn’t help but feel a little resentment that he wasn’t there when I wanted him around.

Was my annoyance reasonable? No. He didn’t live according to my whims. But it still rankled all the same.

Sighing, I settled down to eat a ration bar and go over the plan for my next steps. Eventually, even that couldn’t hold my attention, and I headed to my room where I quickly showered and went to bed. As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself hoping that I’d feel a little more stable in the morning.

It was probably a dim hope, but I clung to it all the same.