The Gamer Chapter 1552 – A horror with a pretty face [Assailant POV] (Patreon)

This was supposed to be just another job.

‘Shit, fuck, shit, shit!’ Alfonse thought. He pressed himself into the gap between two supply crates. His cloaking magic covered the two other men with him. The soldiers of the Purest Front, men that he had worked with before, looked like they were about to lose the last bit of nerve they had. Alfonse could hardly blame them, he was right there with them. Three of them had already broken. One had the brilliant idea to blow a hole in the hull, two others just split off in an attempt to get away.

The description of the job was easy enough. Get in when Karia fights the Gamer, grab the Rose, grab the engineer too if they could, and make a break for it while the maid was still stunned. Make it to the extraction point or use the provided item to get out.

The item wasn’t fucking working.

Alfonse kept pulling at a cord on the little egg-shaped object that had been half his fortune as a mercenary. Having an Innate Ability lending itself to cloaking the presence not only of himself but several other people had made him valuable, having an heirloom that allowed emergency exits from an Illusion Barrier even more so. What kind of Fateweaver had control over the barrier that this thing didn’t work anymore?

The question was ripped out of his mind and replaced by a resurgent wave of panic. The frost crept over the ground, a visual to put to the taxed breathing.

This was supposed to be just another job. Everything had been planned out. Mengele always planned things out, that was the reason, just as much as the pay, why Alfonse kept working with him: he won. The Purest Front had been stable and expanding under the angel of death for so long.

Today, that plan had been shattered. The engineer had put up a struggle none of them could have anticipated, the syringe hadn’t even penetrated her skin, his exit device was grinding up against someone with enough raw power to put a High Fateweaver to shame, and worst of all, the maid was in some kind of half-crazed stupor, hunting them.

Alfonse had heard of Aclysia. Everyone who considered going against the Gamer had.

Holding her head with one hand, the maid stepped into view. The connection interference with the Gamer was clearly still in effect, but whether that was better or worse for Alfonse, he honestly could not say.

“You dared,” she muttered, over and over again. Her vocal cords cracked like the sheets of ice covering her form. Black scales, white and red ice, covering a body that he could only see as a deadly weapon. She lurched further forwards, down the orderly corridors of the cargo hold. The second of her clawed hands dragged an enormous sword behind her. Even by Abyssal proportions, the slab of Mithril was enormous. The thick spine of the straight blade was as black as the claws that gripped the long handle, the hand-wide edge as silvery-white as her bound hair. Many strands had escaped the initially orderly ponytail, adding to the horror show of the crazed servant. “You dared. You dared. You dared. You dared…”

Over and over again, accompanying every heavy step, every scraping sound of the jagged corner between tip and blade of the weapon cutting into the floor. Alfonse held his breath, out of sheer fear, while the dragon maid stepped past him. Her senses, at least, still suffered.

Three wolves followed shortly after her. Enormous things of black fur and red highlights. They sniffed and growled. Vampiric slit pupils in crimson eyes roamed around the room. Alfonse feared them only because of their acute noses. A slip of his attention and they could-

A loud bark. Aclysia snapped around, pieces of ice breaking off her surface from the intensity of the motion. They were nearly immediately replaced. The icy winds in the room grew harsher. Every passing second drained the heat from his limbs. Still, he was superhuman enough to remain awake.

Aclysia stomped rapidly towards the location of one of the two remaining soldiers. Alfonse realized almost immediately what had happened. He had cloaked the man himself, but even cloaking had its weaknesses. The body heat of the man had created a ‘shadow’ in the frost covering every surface in the cargo hold. Too slight to be noticed by anyone but predators on the prowl.

Alfonse allowed himself a single breath in the second that the soldier screamed. An elite of the Purest Front, one of Mengele’s personal covert operatives, reduced to a fearful mess under the full weight of the dragon maid’s horrific aura. Every ounce of hatred was poured onto the man, a heat all the more terrible from the frost already enveloping them.

It was over in a second. If Aclysia knew the meaning of taking prisoners, she did not deem that man worthy of the mercy. Her massive blade moved with incredible speed, not allowing the soldier to formulate any response. The weapon cut through cardboard and bones with the same ease, splitting skull and spine. Blood instantly froze when it made contact with the air, the magic resistance innate to every Abyssal in the liquid fading with the life of the soldier.

“Two more, two…” Aclysia growled. Her peeled back lips revealed sharp teeth. She pulled her weapon back. Bits of red ice stuck to it, crystal reminders of the life she had taken so effortlessly.

‘I’ll be next.’ The thought entered Alfonse’s mind intrusively. He clutched the Rose a little tighter. Their prize was contained in a mana-stifling bag. ‘If I just throw it to her and surrender…?’ the desperate thought surfaced, but he killed it in its infancy. ‘What then? A lifetime in Fusion’s prison? That’s the best I can hope for. Fuck that.’

Aclysia just stood there, her eyes straining to focus on anything. That wasn’t the face of mercy, that was the face of a puppet killing everything in her master’s way. Alfonse wouldn’t end up in the care of such a creature. He’d get the Rose out of there, leverage the fact that he alone had made it out, and then retire to a Protected Space somewhere hot and remote, never touching anything to do with John Newman or Mengele ever again!

‘Sucks to be you!’ Alfonse thought and withdrew his cloaking from the last of the soldiers. He did it slowly, then dropped it entirely when the wolves spotted their target. Concentrating all of his obscuring energy on himself, he made a run for it.

Behind him, the loud barking of the wolves turned into a disgusting ripping of flesh. A sound unusual enough for Alfonse to turn his head.

Wide open green eyes stared right at him.

The shock made him stumble and that saved his life. Aclysia charged in with a horizontal slash. The length of the weapon cut through the pillars of a tall shelf on either end of the swing. Alfonse held his breath again, but the horrific servant did not deliver a follow up. A single stomp of her boot or stab from her tail would have spelled his end. Instead, her eyes darted around the area. She inhaled deeply.

‘FUCK!’ Alfonse screamed in his mind, when he tore himself off the ground. Quite literally, ripping the skin of his palm off the frozen floor. He pressed the bleeding hand into his shirt and just ran for the exit. His cloaking was still intact, she had just correctly read his actions. As long as he did not leave a trail, he could still make it out!

Between screams of anger and glacial winds, the frost breath filled the room. The chill reached his feet, freezing them to the ground for split seconds at a time, before his steps ripped them off again. He knew he was leaving a trail, but he could hardly stop.

He burst through the door of the cargo hold, straight into two more wolves. They did know he was there, but not quite where. Their maws bit empty air. Alfonse allowed himself a nervous smile, as he weaved through them. He was still Alfonse de Trastamare! Divided Gates militaries bet against each other for his services!

‘I’ll get out of here!’ With that thought in his mind, he ran down the confusing layout of the yacht’s tunnels. They had gotten lost on their way out because they had just made for whatever direction was away from Aclysia. Now he had no idea where exactly in the ship he was.

He just headed for the voices.

Aclysia was right after him, the five hounds with her spreading out. Between footsteps in front and her scarily good intuition, he was hardly gaining ground. Only his own instincts allowed him to dodge the various stabs in the dark she took through frost breaths and lunges.

Even if the yacht was almost entirely vacated, there were still some that preferred its cantina over what Romulus offered. At least that was the explanation Alfonse had for why there were people hanging around there. ‘Human shields,’ he thought and made right into the confused crowd.

The ship was large enough, and the Abyss chaotic enough, that the commotion had not yet caught up with those few sitting around the large dining room. Alfonse headed straight for the largest gathering of people, located by the nearest corridor.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing all of the people in the room simultaneously rise from their seats when Aclysia, all ice and glacial winds, burst into the room with the wolves in tow. Even in her half-maddened state, the maid bit back the breath of ice that she had swallowed back. Her eyes dashed to the side. “EMRIK!” the demanding scream echoed in the cantina.

“That way!” a male voice responded and Aclysia chased right after the cloaked assailant.

‘SHIT!’ Alfone’s moment of triumph was immediately ruined. What little ground he had gained was nearly immediately lost and their game of locating and dodging continued. At least whoever had the Innate Ability to spot him wasn’t quick enough to follow along the action.

Daylight.

Alfonse immediately turned in the direction of the opening towards the yacht’s deck. Jumping in the water would be suicide, but jumping to the pier was his ticket out! He realized just fast enough that Aclysia would know the same and stopped in the middle of his movement. The dragon crashed into the staircase, hissing all the while.

Alfonse used the head start to move towards another flight of stairs. That time, he broke out. The sun was so incredibly warm on his skin. A moment of hope filled him as he grabbed the railing with both hands and swung himself overboard. His palm burned and bled.

Aclysia leapt right after him, but by that point things were already progressing in Alfonse’s favour. He was pounding the stone ground, running serpentine. The frost did not spread fast enough under the Mediterranean sun to make him leave footprints. One last ice breath was bellowed in his general direction, then he was amidst the crowd of people frequenting the harbour. There were less of them than usual, but they were still there, and they were all hastily walking away from the scene of an elite of the Abyss throwing her weight around.

Optimal conditions for Alfonse to slip away.

Soon he was part of the stream of people, cloaked both by his ability and all of them. He heard the frustrated scream of the servant behind him. He grinned, followed the stream of people for several minutes, until he reached an alleyway.

He breathed freely for the first time in minutes. No frost poured down his throat, no hatred depressed his mind. ‘Alright, now to get to the extraction point,’ he thought to himself. Their actions here had kicked up a fuss, but that was always bound to happen. Mengele had at least accounted for that much. Even that absurdly powerful Fateweaver, whether that was Magoi or Lee Magus, wouldn’t be able to keep them in when the Purest Front used a large-scale escape tool.

“What do we have here?”

For a moment Alfonse didn’t register that he was the one being talked to. Even if he had relaxed, he had remained cloaked. Once he looked around, however, he came face to face with another pair of green eyes.

He tensed up with his entire body.

The woman before him was smaller than him, but her presence loomed large and imperial. A jade fan in her hand did a deliberately poor job of hiding the smile of her green lips. Greyish black hair was tied up into twin buns, covered with white cloth, fastened with red string. A white dress covered her curves. She stood relaxed and her eyes were half-dilated slits.

“Who are you talking to, empress?” an even smaller, stereotypically Chinese advisor asked from behind her.

The Heavenly Jade Empress neither answered nor gave Alfonse the opportunity to back away. She waved the half-unfolded fan and jade winds pressed the covert mercenary into the stone wall of the alleyway. The particles consolidated swiftly into bindings, crucifying Alfonse against the wall.

“Why the fuck would you be here?!” Alfonse croaked, staring at Lu Zhi with contempt and fear.

“I just happened to be around. Whoever would be interested in watching a fight between an interrupter mage and a summoner?” The Heavenly Jade Empress amusedly tapped her chin with her now folded fan and smiled.

Alfonse gulped, because he knew that was bullshit. There was no way she could have realized what Karia was and headed over to the harbour in time – she had to have known beforehand. “I’m not getting out of this alive, am I?”

“Get out of what alive?” Lu Zhi asked with feigned innocence and gestured for her company to take the bag from Alfonse. Knowing that he was done, he let go without a struggle. His fate was now out of his hands.

The tiny Chinese man opened the bag for a split second, then pulled it shut again. “It’s the Rose of Artifice!” he said in a quiet, yet excited tone.

“Oh, reaaaaaally? Woooooow!” the Heavenly Jade Empress drawled her words. “How shocking!” Her mood suddenly shifted. Green scales crept up the sides of her face. “Pray tell, how many people did you hurt trying to get that thing?”

“No one!” Alfonse assured immediately. Aclysia’s aura had been terrifying. That of the Heavenly Jade Empress was no less potent, albeit his response to it was not as much fear as plain uncertainty. He did not know what the ruler of Asia wanted or what she was going to do with him. “No one was hurt!” Not for a lack of trying, but she did not need to know that.

“He’s not telling the whole truth,” the advisor told the empress.

“I guessed as much, but it is the truth, Absalm?”

“Yes, my empress.”

“Good, good.” The scales on her face retreated alongside her intimidating aura. “Well then, Alfonse de Trastamare…” She stepped up to the gulping mercenary and put her jade fan against the bottom of his jaw. The blunt object vibrated against his skin. “…you will make for an excellent political bargaining chip for me and an example for John.”

Perhaps a Fusion prison would not be that bad.