Angela Romero had lived a long life, she had seen what Cultivators were capable of through all of it. Under the service of that madman Loco she saw the best and worst of what they could do. She saw gangs of slaves herded into transports, restrained more from fear than their chains. She would know, she was like that too, even as she took over the tactical side of leading his war machines into battle at the head of a veritable army. Like every member of her bloodline for the past seven or so decades she wanted nothing more than to blow a hole through the swollen head of that monster, yet witnessing the man burn hundreds into cinder with a thought tended to quash rebellious instincts. She saw more noble cultivators too, often those only seeking power to make a better life for their peers under the rule of mad warlords. They would dance around her troops with such beautiful carnage she almost believed they could dethrone Loco. Unfortunately they never quite proved her right. The day she left as well she witnessed something akin to God’s wrath, if that figure from her abuela’s stories even existed it would surely come in the form of the blood red giant who snuffed the life of that monster as though he was a child’s pathetic attempt at kindling. Nonetheless she had her doubts the, to be entirely honest, children could actually stop the titanic predator that had stopped the Toro Rojo.
And when she first saw the stampeding cloud of dust over the horizon through her spyglass she had no reason to believe her doubts anything but justified.
“Pinche!” She shouted, scrambling to reach the intercom. Pressing down with her full body weight on a button more rust than functional electronics she screamed a familiar code to her men. “Toro embistiendo!”
With speed and efficacy that warmed her old heart with pride the ragtag team of deserters who she had cobbled together in under an hour loaded the heavy cannons with loud thunks, black smoke belching from the smokestacks as the ancient generators were set online and put into overdrive just to turn the unwieldy weapon of the Toro Rojo. Monitoring the situation carefully with her spyglass, she desperately barked out each painstaking estimate of the coordinates of the beast, praying to the God of her ancestors that they could estimate its trajectory in time.
Then in an instant everything changed again. She watched the seemingly unstoppable Spirit Beast abruptly jerk and then actually switch directions. Right as she communicated the sudden shift in movement to her crew the unthinkable happened, she saw the large form of the creature actually flip and fly a good distance. She had no illusions in her head that it was dead, but somehow the damn kids did it, and grinning like a madwoman she calculated the estimated impact site. Once more she checked through her spyglass, and no longer seeing any movement gave the awaited order.
“NOW!” She all but screamed.
With the sound of dozens of thunderstrikes at once shaking the entire bulk of the Toro Rojo two massive lumps of lead were launched at their target, reaching their target in speeds that might as well have been instant with a flash of light and smoke visible to the naked eye even at this distance. But she didn’t dare get her hopes up… the beast got up from this before…
When there was no sign of movement she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. There was one threat down, and while her people likely would never know true peace until they fled further than the Dragon Khan could follow, it was enough for the old woman to hope.
----------------------------------------
To say Cobalt was a bit pissed would be like calling the meat of a Glow-slug unappetising. Accurate yet distinctly lacking in adequacy of descriptiveness or scale. She understood that the mostly mortals that crewed the Toro Rojo likely never saw John still stuck to the Mauler, nor likely even considered it a possibility. But they still shot at him! They shot at one of her friends! She didn’t even have that many to begin with and they launched shells at him! After the explosion she had been so full of rage she went right back to the crippled and dying Mauler and ripped it to shreds with her hands, but such anger would be hardly productive for diplomacy.
And so until John woke up she stayed away from the Toro Rojo, instead takingthe time to practice her meditation, to calm herself down the way she had always done it…
“Wow… you really are just tearing into it huh?” Magni remarked offhandedly, she turned around mouth still full of bloody meat.
Swallowing quickly she did her best attempt at reestablishing a dignified bearing. “It’s the special meditation technique of the Phagos bloodline, passed down from my grandfather. I find it easier to focus and centre myself in the midst of feasting, besides I needed to replenish my Si stores. After all-”
Magni raised a hand cutting her off. “You don’t have to explain it’s just… did you eat half of that thing? What are we meant to bring back as, you know, proof of the kill?”
Turning sheepishly Cobalt could only say. “Well, it was hardly presentable as is, but fear not, I left the core intact.” Nodding towards a large golden organ pulsing with supernatural heat even hours after the death of its owner.
“It’s just- where did it all go?” Magni asked with genuine fascination and shock, truthfully Cobalt didn’t really have an answer to that either.
“A lady doesn’t concern herself with such things.” She decided to respond, primly turning her head as if she said anything of substance.
Magni blinked with all of his eyes at once, a rare occurrence nowadays. “Ok now I am certain you are fucking with me.”
Unfortunately their banter was cut short by a familiar presence, flanked by two masked guards. The Capitana, in spite of her rough worn military clothing and milliteristic bearing, looked almost sheepish. In fact her face was set in what would probably pass as a soft expression for her. Nonetheless Cobalt felt that familiar mix of emotions well up inside her, and the dams she built up in her mind suddenly seemed all too very small.
“What do you want now!” She snapped before she could stop herself, exposing rows of bloodstained fangs which made the two guards jump for their guns before their leader moved an arm to stop them. “Is it another set of excuses for why you aimed your guns at us while we were dealing with your Mauler problem?”
To her credit the Capitana didn’t even flinch. “There is much we need to discuss, but I am not here to interrogate you. I am simply here to offer an apology and some news.”
Mustering all her practiced decorum Cobalt took in a deep breath and looked the old woman in her weary gray eyes.
“First of all, I think you would like to know that as of half an hour ago your friend began to stir in the medical bay-”
What she said after that was sort of a blur, but Cobalt remembered quickly saying some empty phrases as a response before bolting off to the medical bay.
Out of her earshot the old woman sighed. “Teenagers…”
“I apologize for her, it’s been… a rough few days…” Magni apologized in lieu of his senior sister, rushing off to follow Cobalt.
----------------------------------------
John was shaking on his feet when he got up, his head still was ringing like a bell and it seemed every movement was followed by a rush of vertigo. It was getting all too familiar to be honest, he was a bit sick of being knocked out all the time. One would think his track record would improve upon becoming a Mutant but no, fate had other plans for him.
Once it seemed like he wasn’t going to immediately fall over Cobalt shocked him by wrapping him in a hug so sudden he felt like he was suffocating. Once she let go he rather ungracefully fell onto his ass, grumbling incoherent curses as he was helped back to his feet.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Are you alright John? You looked half dead! I was worried that it was going to be like- well…” Cobalt began to speak before faltering.
“I’m fine… how long… was I out…” He croaked, still fighting for lung capacity after that crushing hug.
“Nearly a full day! But forget about that, they were tracking the Mauler with their guns the whole time! I don’t know if you knew it or not but your mutation saved us a lot of trouble, it might have even saved Magni a few limbs if we were in the blast radius! I just wish you would not make a habit of nearly killing yourself.” She once more began to ramble.
“I thought it was longer… new mutation?” He muttered mostly to himself. Prior events slowly swimming to the surface of his mind in piecemeal.
Cobalt looked at him with concern. “Don’t you remember?”
Magni who hitherto had been silent spoke up. “Must have had your head rattled when that beast landed on you. It was honestly hard to miss.” As if to demonstrate he gestured to his right arm and wiggled his fingers
John turned his attention to his own right arm, or rather ARTOS, and saw noticeably longer fingers on the limb as well as small fractures in the metal plates already being filled in with some silver substance. The limb had several stretch marks all across the various coils, and while the eyes appeared to be normal in placement some almost seemed too small for the still distended sockets. Shuddering he turned away from the altered limb, determined to deal with that problem another time.
Thankfully a new distraction happened to make itself known at the time.
“Glad to see you are awake John. I have already given my apology to your friends, but I suppose you deserve it too. My priority was always the survival of my people, and when we saw the Mauler approaching from a distance there was nothing to suggest anything but the possibility you had failed in your task. I lacked faith in your abilities, perhaps I should have trusted you more, and I acknowledge that the order to fire upon the beast was given by my hand. I was too hasty in giving that order when I should have taken more time to assess the situation, and that reflects poorly on my abilities as a commander.” The Capitana spoke in practiced formal language.
Considering his words carefully he made a response. “It’s fine, I think I get what was going on for you, and I cannot say I would have made much of a different choice.”
“I am glad that we can come to an understanding. You are certainly more forgiving than your chupacabra matriarch friend over there.” The Capitana said with more of her natural accent bleeding through, finishing with a small smile. Was that… humor?
“Hey!” Cobalt complained as Magni fought a giggle in the background.
The Capitana coughed and returned to her usual expression. “More seriously, now that you are all present I have more information that I believe you deserve to know. We do not have much currency on us, only a few low grade Ura Spirit Stones that we managed to hide amidst our belongings, but we do have information to trade in exchange for the service you have provided.”
“Is it about the Khan?” Cobalt nearly whispered. There was an expression on her face that was truly rare, true fear.
The Capitana nodded. “While I didn’t see much of him in person, as I was in contact with Loco’s spymaster I know more than most about him. His claims of ancestry, legitimate or not, are backed up by his vendetta towards the foes of the Red Star. He bears a grudge for the supposed massacre of his family by your empire, and so targets family members of those he believes responsible for the downfall of the first Kaganate. I believe you are members of the Lead Cave, yes? First of the Rebel Clans that joined the Empire and participant of the Three Day Seige that destroyed the remaining loyal mortal members of the Red Star’s army.”
Cobalt quietly nodded and John suddenly felt a cold chill coming down his spine. Magni was similarly picking up on the situation and had all eyes focused onto the Capitana. Everyone already knew what this meant, but nonetheless the old woman kept speaking.
“He’s going to come for you, I don’t know when but I know it is as certain as the rising of the sun in the east. Meditate on this, but be prepared to run when the need arises, for you are not beating this enemy.”
----------------------------------------
Alexander looked upon the small pile of scraps gathered by his charges. Increasingly it was becoming more and more difficult to find fresh ruins, they had to expand their search area significantly in the process, but it didn’t mean much to him or the Rats. After all it was not like any of them had any real home they needed to get back to in a timely manner. Right now the closest thing he could call to a home was his tent and the familiar stars hanging in the night sky. Though nowadays he has been thinking of the last place he had truly called a home more and more often.
He idly wondered how John was doing now, that boy that once seemed just like any of the other Rats except perhaps with less normal self preservation instincts. If someone told him that the scrawny little boy would be the one to carry the name of his clan two years ago he would have laughed in their face, yet time changes all things. He had even done what had seemed impossible, actually had a proper talk with his father, the one thing he had wanted since he was that small foundling picked up in some nameless village… if only it wasn’t four decades late to keep the fire in him lit. Still, he had a new flame now, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Suddenly the eye on his chest focused towards movement on the distant horizon. A group of four petty bandits it looks like given the makeshift armor hidden beneath saggy clothing and barely concealed weapons around three quarters of a mile away, approaching at a pace of perhaps ten feet a second. It was strange for bandits to be this far from the beaten path… let alone any with the presence of mind to hide their identity, he needed a closer inspection. A more focused look revealed their weapons to be some sort of makeshift shotguns and rifles, ordinarily not a major threat to someone of his cultivation, though he was out of practice enough that it may be a real threat if he wasn’t careful… more importantly however….
Replicating the call of the Mourning Roadrunner he gave the alarm for the kids to run somewhere safe. The approaching bandits didn’t seem to notice anything amiss yet, and at the rate they were coming his wards should be safe in the nearby ruins. His mind ran through a million calculations, but of course even the best laid plans fall apart when dealing with children.
“Supervisor, what’s going on?” Ever dutiful Oliver asked, though he may have been helpful for a normal kind of threat, his action here has cost precious seconds, and likely confused the other children who saw him as somewhat a secondary authority figure by now. Bomb the Spirits it was getting complicated.
“Go! Now! Get yourself and any others who are dawdling safe, no time to explain!” He hissed, doing his best to keep his own tension out of his voice.
Paling Oliver nodded and ran from the tent without further questions. Alexander took a deep centring breath and drew a familiar two handed blade as well as a pistol to keep at his side, souvenirs he took from his old quarters back at the Sect, and hopefully enough to discourage the bandits should things turn sour. Examining the battlefield once more he detected four more presences keeping themselves hidden behind natural rock structures and bushes, rudimentary camouflage enough to fool normal senses at this distance but not his keen third eye. They were definitely prepared, which raised another possibility. Not bandits perhaps, but bounty hunters? But why?
Leaving his tent he approached the group, hiding his third eye behind his tunic. They seemed to be attempting an ambush, wanted to catch him off guard, and he had more than enough practice playing this game before to make up for being decades out of practice.
“Excuse me sir, me and my companions were lost, would you perhaps be kind enough to offer us some hospitality this fine night?” The head bandit- no, bounty hunter began to speak.
He counted the foes and estimated his chances. He could do this, but first…
“I’ll give you one chance to surrender and give up your information on who hired you and why.” He stated clearly.
The apparent leader clicked his tongue in disappointment and tried to give a silent hand signal, before he could react however Alexander swiped with his sword slicing cleanly both hands before the man could react. Immediately disorganized bullets began to fly from the hunters hidden in ambush, which he retaliated with three rapid shots from his own handgun. Two were silenced, one was able to dodge, a feat that was at minimum nearly the 8th step of the Wretch Realm. Clearly this band of fools had some power to back them up.
The fastest one to react in front of him appeared to have a hog’s nose, perhaps a natural mutation, or a sign of cultivation into the Mutant Realm. If he was to hazard a guess this was the tracker and the one most advanced in cultivation, thus most dangerous. Immediately he took care of the threat, releasing a bout of flame that engulfed him and two of his companions before they could even draw their weapons. Two of them went down screaming on the spot, but the pig faced man lined up a deadly killshot with his shotgun. He tried to dodge…
It was too fast!
Buckshot scattered, several landing into his side expelling dark blood where they landed. The pain was nearly enough to make him lose his head as a shot rang out from the hunters hiding in the distance. He could see one of them… wasn’t there another?
A charging boar man made him ignore that for now, barely rolling out of the way of a barrelling ball of flame and pain. He shot again to put him out of his misery, landing cleanly onto the skull of his target, two more bullets left. He wanted information from the leader, so that left exactly one bullet for each of the snipers…
Almost instinctively he shot at the one which didn’t disappear, his third eye told him that it wasn’t a fatal shot but it would suffice for now. Rapidly he searched for the remaining one and found him quickly approaching the ruin.
Krack!
Wasting no time he shot the man before he could successfully pull of his plan, but in the process was hit in the leg by his injured comrade. What simultaneous rotten and great luck, the man was clearly unable to get a clean shot in his current condition, and was unlikely to ever shoot again. The fact it wasn’t a more dangerous injury was a miracle, but the fact it managed to hit at all was nearly as miraculous. He let out a stream of blasphemy he was glad the children were not around to hear and threw his blade at the location of his last dangerous attacker, bisecting him in two when it landed.
Grunting and dragging himself to the last living man, who seemed to have been trying to either drag himself to safety or attempt to wrestle a weapon from the corpses of his friends with his teeth, he quickly reloaded his gun and limped himself over the handless man.
“Start talking.” He said, pointing the gun to the man’s head.
Recognising there was no more point the last hunter spoke through labored breaths. “Bounty from a new bigshot warlord in the south… targeting Sect Heirs in the Empire… not stupid enough to pick a fight with a proper Sect but heard rumors of a disowned cultivator bigshot milling around these parts…”
Alexander almost laughed. “Thought I would be easy prey did you?”
“If you weren’t before… are now…” the man muttered, clearly growing delirious from blood loss yet with a huge sadistic smile on his face. “Only… the start… this is…”
Unfortunately Alexander was not likely to extract much more from him, nor did he have the expertise to fix wounds as severe as the ones he gave. He could only shut his eyes and grant the bastard some semblance of mercy.
One last gunshot pierced through the cold, silent night and Alexander thought of the Sect… of John… he thought he was done with the Lead Cave forty years ago but it seems fate had a way of dragging him back into this business.
Gripping his wounds Alexander limped his way back to camp.