“You… died? To a magpie?” James remarked, evidently disbelieving.
“Yes,” Brock replied. His voice lacked any emotion, as though it was some kind of automated response. It was.
“You were… let’s call it ‘existentially unstable’… until you entered a large, golden… tree? Made of golden bricks?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
James rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of exactly how to respond to it all. In the end, he reached for a biscuit and crunched down on it. Long ago, the group had vacated the floor and moved to the table. A packet of oreos adorned its rotting surface. They were somewhat stale.
Although they had undergone minor migration, the auras Brock could detect around indicated that people were still reluctant to leave their houses, let alone move, fear casting them frozen, at least for the time being. Shane was muttering to himself speculatively, trying his best to compute what he had overheard, while Harry was just plain old miffed.
“You liar! You told me you had a Tutorial in a cave system.” He pouted, clearly annoyed that he had been lied to.
“Yes,” Brock responded, his voice monotonous.
James let out a pronounced sigh, “You stopped listening to our questions a while ago, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Grumbling to himself, James leant across the table and gave his brother a few light slaps on the cheek, enough to startle the man to re-attention as he flinched back, frantically whacking the younger boys’ hands aside with ease. Brows furrowed, Brock stared daggers at his younger brother and the smirk he held.
“What the hell man?” he complained.
Shane still remained silent, but Harry stood up, frustrated, “So you were stuck in a jungle for a month by yourself and got a bunch of Titles? And that’s why you’re so strong?
“Yes,” Brock answered with that same monotone voice, although upon seeing a pair of furious glares he quickly opted to continue, “but it was probably the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I was scared, injured almost every other day and… and I was so alone I wanted to cry…”
His voice became dark toward the end.
The people in the room went silent at that, stewing on the idea that the strongest man in the room had fought tooth and nail by his lonesome just to reach his current strength, all while a timer to his life slowly ticked downward. It had taken around ten minutes, but Brock had managed to relay most of the intricate details and experiences of his survival.
Although, he did omit the parts with the Beyond and the territory of the System. He had an weird feeling… that he wasn’t supposed to tell people. And he trusted his gut.
That aside, his recounting had earned mixed reactions.
Harry had thought it to be one of those ‘story-like’ beginnings, the ones that led to an epic journey following an overpowered hero through the apocalypse of a torn world. His enthusiasm was slightly contagious, although Brock still thought he was a fucking idiot.
James on the other hand had been extremely concerned by his words, wondering deeply how the time alone had changed his elder brother. And although he had never asked about the various scars since Brock had arrived, once he knew of their true source, the boy hadn’t been able to stop looking at them.
“Are you ok? After all that time?” James broke the silence, his expression sorrowful.
Brock shrugged nonchalantly, “I became good friends with a machine god, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been torn in half at least twice now. So that’s something. Mondays, am I right?”
“Brock, I love you, but please stop saying that.”
“Sorry…”
The interrogation continued on for a little over five minutes before they finally heard people outside as they began to leave hiding. The questions were mostly James asking about the dangers or his personal wellbeing, and Harry asking about how epic said dangers were, and why he had been told an entirely different story when they had met.
Harry was a walking contradiction if Brock had ever seen one. Logically fearful during combat, yet excitedly seeking it out, almost like he was trying to prove something. To pursue an ideal.
Regardless, the kid couldn’t read moods if a bazooka was held to his crotch, and could be pretty insensitive at times, but Brock had to admit that if he was anything, it was understanding. He had followed Brock’s original thought process perfectly as he explained why he had misdirected him when they first met, and in the end, wasn’t even mad, just slightly annoyed.
It was nice to have someone that understood him. His brother cared for him, much more than he ever could for himself, and while they were somewhat similar people, James was a bit more literal and pragmatic. And for that, he would never truly comprehend why his elder brother did what he did.
Mostly because Brock had no clue why he did those things either.
His own internal logic either took him there, or he found his way to the decision through some other unknown series of circumstances. Like the time when he had lit a fire on the school oval to roast marshmallows in high school. James had thought he was fucking crazy.
The teachers had too, and now, as an adult, Brock could definitely see why. Common sense wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Thank God he had the gift of being somewhat analytical. Otherwise, well… he would be utterly cooked.
Hmmm. Maybe I’m just an older version of Harry…?
The group followed the actions of the others and exited the bounds of the house. Shane trailed behind them meekly, seeming to want to ask questions but unsure if he truly wanted to. Leisurely, they strolled out onto the front lawn, eying the several new gouges in the road from the deadly presence of the Sky Bandit’s talons. Over on the other side of the street, Brock spotted Jordan conversing with some of his guards, covering up his shattered nose with a palm.
His wounds had stopped bleeding, but his pride was yet to. Veins still bulged along his body, speaking of his suppressed rage.
Jordan looked up and they met eyes. Within, Brock thought he saw the slightest sliver of fear swimming about, though the man soon glanced away and the victor of the fight was left with no further time to study it.
He was just happy knowing he had gotten the guy back for what he did during high school. Stabbing the man, beating the shit out of him and breaking his nose was a tad bit far, but the context of the time made it ok. Brock snorted to himself.
No… it really doesn’t. But what you gonna do? Sue me?
Brock cast the thought aside and surveyed the populace, noticing the way they desperately searched the skies, despite the clear fact the creature’s aura had long disappeared. Whatever this bird was, it had really instilled a deep sense of dread within the people here. Hmmm.
“Hey, James,” Brock whsipered to his younger brother, “What does the ‘Sky Bandit’ actually do? What makes it a ‘bandit’?”
“The sky part is kinda self-explanatory.” He added after a second long pause.
The young man in question glanced over and met his eyes, brows raised, “Because that’s what it is. It steals our supplies, murders whoever’s out and about, and is stunting the rebuilding of this town. Already, we’ve barely been here two weeks and many people are looking to brave the outback and leave, chances be damned.”
“Huh.” Brock simply nodded in response, taking the time to digest the information. If people wanted to travel the vast expanse of sand willingly, then the situation must be bad. Worse than even the devil’s cruellest of torments.
“…Hey. You.”
Brock idly turned his attention ahead of him, recognizing the nasally voice and eying an embarrassed looking Jordan as he seemed to internally debate his next move while he walked over. He looked to be heavily reluctant in his choice, and the man that was his destination could still see the seething rage hidden behind his eyes, though it had now calmed to just a flickering flame.
Absentmindedly, Brock glanced at his fists. They were clenched so hard his knuckles were white. Orange seeped out from between his fingers. What’s he planning?
The office worker raised a curious brow in his direction, taking a relaxed step forward from his group. While it didn’t look like it, he was ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, “What’s up mate?”
Jordan growled quietly to himself, but ultimately decided to continue the rest of his trip and approached Brock. He instantly adopted an extremely closed off stance, and his hands seemed to be just itching to grab his hammer from his back and swing. Speaking realms of his self-control, the man restrained the urge.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He was a total douchebag, but at least he had his priorities straight. Or perhaps his beating still stung.
“You…” he gritted his teeth and almost choked as he spat out the rest of his sentence, “I want to hire you to take care of the Sky Bandit. For the town. You’re stronger than me – clearly – and I… I can’t do it…”
It was an immense effort for Brock to resist a laugh at the man’s abrupt humbleness and change of heart. So much so, that he didn’t bother to resist, and he laughed right in his face. Jordan’s tightly pressed lips twitched at the edges, turning downward ever so slightly. He flexed his fingers and held himself back.
Is he fucking serious right now? Brock ended his hearty chuckle with a pronounced snort. He felt an urge to punch the asshole again, “Why in all the world of fuck should I help you? You tried to kill me and a kid cause you’re a greedy little shit.”
As if to punctuate his point, Brock pointed a finger at Jordan’s leg, and a small projectile of compressed flame shot out. Without resistance, it carved directly through the side of his thigh and continued into the asphalt, leaving a smouldering hole no bigger than his pinky behind. Orange blood dribbled down his skin.
Growling in pain, Jordan fell to his knees and clutched his wound. His eyes snapped up and met Brock’s own. Within swirled two things; a renewed sense of fear and understanding. Jordan understood that if Brock so much as wanted to, killing him would be effortless.
A faint trace of a smoky aura threatened to leak out, and Brock could sense it positively straining with all its might to remain within the bounds of his foe’s body. Surprisingly, Jordan kept it together, his survival instincts getting the better of him. He snarled furiously and the corners of his eyes creased with rage as he managed to stand.
The man was smart enough to see an opportunity when it was presented to him.
“I’ll… I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want. From what we have here in Alice Springs.” He spat, looking fully disgusted at himself afterwards. Blood readily spurted from the hole in his thigh, the wound somehow remaining uncauterised, “Except the town itself.”
Brock considered his proposition in silence.
On one hand, while he certainly wasn’t strong enough to kill the Bandit right now, he’d only need to give himself another month or so of relentless beast slaying out in the wilderness, and he would be more than capable. But that wasn’t the sticking point.
He had already risked his life enough as is, so why would he willingly put himself in danger? He wouldn’t let himself lose his humanity in their new world, but to walk along the precipice of life and death again for a town he’d long left in the past would be an act in fucking idiocy. He didn’t even think Harry would take that chance.
But…
Sighing, he glanced at James, who was staring at Jordan’s new wound with intrigue, much to Brock’s relief. If he was factored into this, however…
Brock knew his younger brother well enough to know that he wouldn’t just up and leave their hometown – it held a special place in his heart. He’d pull some argument that ‘mum could come back’, or he’d just go and downright refuse to leave with him. And Brock knew he couldn’t let his brother stay in a place constantly harried by danger.
Which meant that he had three choices here: seek out the goddamn bird and kill it to make Alice Springs safe for James: kidnap James: Or leave the issue to Jordan, who’d probably get himself and everyone else killed in the process. He’d rather not kidnap James, and he’d prefer it if Jordan wasn’t torn to pieces with everyone in the town.
Then there was also the scheming glint in Jordan’s eye which led Brock to believe that the asshole was getting the best side of the deal here. The bird was either killed and the town was liberated, or Brock Carter would die in the process. Either way, it seemed Jordan would appreciate the result.
Why the fuck is everything my problem…?
Regardless of the point, it wasn’t even like killing the monster would be all that rewarding, as he doubted the town had much of anything unique to offer. His store of Shards was at an all-time high, especially in comparison to that of Alice Springs, and that seemed to be the biggest bargaining chip of what the town and its leadership had to offer.
But the beast… perhaps it would drop a Treasure or give him a rare title? Maybe even a boost to his level?
Hmmm.
“Keep your town. I’m too lazy for that shit,” Brock waved away the man’s obvious concerns, “As for the deal, I’m not lacking in Shards of Awakening. You obviously know that.”
The first rule of business was to make them want you. Play tough to get as long as you could. Although, he had failed that business class he took in high school, so he somewhat doubted the validity of his knowledge. In fact, he didn’t even know if he’d gotten what his teacher had said right.
Unfortunately for Jordan, he too had been in that very same class and knew exactly what the other man was doing. Which made it all the more aggravating for him as he was forced to suck it up and give in to the option of bargaining. Brock resisted a chuckle.
The man had done terrible in school, but he was smart enough to know that he wasn’t strong enough to deal with the Bandit and wouldn’t be for a long time. Though Brock, on the other hand, was only level 9 and already considerably more powerful than the town’s leader, from what the man himself had seen.
He seemed to have hope in his victim’s capabilities, and that looked to be enough for him to push through the annoyance.
“We’ve got months’ worth of supplies: water, food, medical. Weapons too - Tutorial ones - and even some left over ballistic armour. Working vehicles; we have plenty. You can take your pick after you deal with the monster.” He finished, settling into his zone when coming into the realm of business.
Too bad Brock had scored higher than he had. They still both failed, however.
“I’ll take a vehicle now and whatever else I want when I kill the thing. Consider it a down payment.”
Jordan deliberated on it for a long while, his facial expression shifting between being pissed at the knowledge he was being readily played, to somewhat smug that Brock had actually agreed to it in the end.
At the end of the day, supplies were meant to be used and the vehicles only had so much fuel left in them. He knew that with the threat of the Sky Bandit gone, his town could begin to flourish, even with such a minuscule population.
The man licked his teeth, “Fine. You’ve got a deal. Kill the bird, you’ll get your shit.”
“And James?” Brock pressed. His eyes adopted a sinister glint, “you touch him and I’ll burn off every single limb you have one by one and throw you onto an ant’s nest. You do the math about how long it’ll take for you to die.”
For a brief moment, the culmination of Brock's savage time in the jungle came to bare. His eyes portrayed no sign of it being a threat. Because it wasn't one. It was a promise.
Jordan almost took a step back at the sudden change in attitude, and his eyes couldn’t help but shake slightly. Still, he nodded, and his eyes naturally looked over to James, who was standing only a short distance away conversing with an evidently shaken Shane.
“I can swear that I won’t touch him,” Brock’s Ascendancy pulsed with agreement, telling him to believe the man. He had long realized that his core of power seemed to be sentient in some way, and while it was unnerving to have inside of him, he… trusted it? I… don’t know how to feel about this.
Jordan took a step closer, leaving only a ruler’s length to separate them both. His eyes adopted their own sinister glint, “Just don’t forget this is your hometown. And James’ll be here with me while you're gone. So don’t fuck me over, Bro-”
Brock slapped the man lightly in the face, “Bad Jordan.”
**
Carrie walked through the Garden of Tranquility, admiring the varied flora of vibrant colours as she followed in the footsteps of the somewhat familiar woman ahead of her. She was leading her through the bounds of the Dojo toward a requested meeting between her and the clan’s Patriarch. Despite all the nervousness of the event, she still spared her thoughts for the injured Kim.
The girl hadn’t been doing all that good recently, even before the Tutorial ended, having been brutally gored by the attack of a beast and forced to press onward, lest Ryan located them. It didn’t matter in the end, as he’d always found them. Carrie just felt blessed that he hadn’t been teleported alongside the pair.
They had appeared a few weeks ago in an unfamiliar city. The two of them had taken it as a heavy loss that the rest of the people they had fought so hard to save weren’t there with them, their safety unknown even now. In the following days, Kim’s injury had only worsened, the wound having appeared to have festered, infested by whatever bacteria were found on the beast.
Amid all the strange happenings, she had completely forgotten about the basic things in life, like infections. And it had evidently exacted the price for her ignorance.
Fortunately, their lucky break had deigned to occur midway through the second week of their exploits. Carrie had been littered with wounds and exhausted from singlehandedly dealing with high levelled beast after high levelled beast, and Kim herself had been barely clinging onto her life, her wounds severe.
The day they had settled into a building and accepted their fate, a group of roving warriors had found and generously rescued them, taking the duo back to the sprawling Dojo they took residence in and readily treated both Carrie’s and Kim’s injuries with their powers. Kim was still currently hospitalized, but Carrie was as good as new, if a bit bandage covered and physically scarred up.
If there was any silver lining to it all, it was that she had gotten her hands on a blue Shard of Awakening through combat with one of the more powerful beasts. It wasn’t exactly the best one around - that much she was certain of - but a power boost was what she had needed desperately at the time, and she’d immediately found a safe place and swapped over.
It was worth it.
Initially, the group she had found had appeared to not speak English, but the more they talked, the more Carrie began to understand their words. In a matter of minutes, she had almost mastered the basic details of their language. She had thought it to be some sort of System effect, maybe even a side effect of a heightened Intelligence, or perhaps even both in tandem.
Despite the atrocities it had allowed to occur, she appreciated the System’s assistance there, nonetheless.
Thankfully, the only fully English-speaking person in the group that had found her - a somewhat familiar-looking brown-haired woman - had taken it upon herself to guide Carrie around the place, explaining to her the customs, expectations and responsibilities of those affiliated with the Dojo, even if it was just a temporary stay. Everyone needed to do their part.
More than a few days had been spent in her presence, and while the woman seemed somewhat cold and rigid in her attitude, Carrie found herself enjoying the time she spent with her. Although, she did find the fact she refused to take her blindfold off rather strange. Somehow, it didn’t seem to impair her sight in the slightest.
Carrie did notice that she clicked her tongue often, however.
Letting herself be guided to the Patriarchs’ private residence, Carrie inwardly remarked on the fact she had no idea why the man would want to see her out of all the other non-Dojo people they had saved from the surrounding area. She was certainly one of the most powerful new arrivals, but there were others more adept at combat than she was, being actually trained fighters.
Eventually, they halted out the front of a simple Japanese style house, select portions of the walls appearing to be made of a thin paper or canvas with murals of crimson dragons and golden kanji streaking along every surface. It granted the place an otherworldly beauty to it, if a little ancient in nature. Smiling lightly, the woman ahead of her waved for her to enter.
“Wait…” Carrie found it embarrassing to admit, but even after three days, she was yet to know the woman’s name despite the fact she clearly knew her own. Now seemed as good a time as ever to ask, “what’s… your name?”
For the first time since she’d met the woman, she chuckled, “it’s Jane. Pleased to meet you.”
Nodding thankfully and trying to hide the smile brewing on her face, the rapier user waved her tour guide a warm goodbye and delicately parted the doors to the small room within. A single elderly man was there, waiting for her.