Letting a breath of air escape his lips, Brock stared at the moulded clay ceiling and studied its intricate lines and grooves. Well… intricate was a generous appraisal. Haphazard would be more fitting. Thick streams of sunrise glow illuminated the innards of the abode from the single window hole, chill morning air flowing within and tickling Brock’s feet as his blanket wasn’t large enough to cover the entire bed.
When you were in Sanctuary, curtains, windowpanes, comfort, and proper housing were all rare commodities that could be found nowhere on the streets. Brock had been awake for a while now, his improved Vitality still actively working to reduce his need to sleep. He hadn’t even needed to sleep last night, he had just wanted to enjoy the blissfulness that unconsciousness brought.
He sighed and flattened his bed hair back down to the bounds of his scalp, “I really did get bamboozled, huh?”
There wasn’t much he could do after he ventured out and found nothing, only relaying his findings to Margo. He felt especially bad when the lines of her face hardened, and he could see the hope that she had been holding onto begin to slip away. It was only one setback, but all they had had so far had been setbacks, he knew.
Yawning loudly and enjoying the sensation it brought along with it, Brock idly began practicing his braiding. It, of course, ended an hour later when he burned through a significant portion of his blanket, something Margo had graciously lent to him. Panicked, he frantically put out the residue embers before they ate up the rest of the item.
As he glanced down at the charred, holed remains, he considered burying the evidence.
He had destroyed one of very few blankets, and he still had made next to no progress. You’d think making a tight braid would be an easy affair, though Brock found it to be harder than anything he’d ever done so far. Granted, all he’d needed to do was dodge and slash, but still, it was difficult.
As he had done yesterday, he exited his position of rest and stood, stretching himself out and savouring the series of pops and cracks his body suffered from the action. He moved the door out of the way – just a crude slab of earth used to block the hole – and stepped out. It was a chilly morning, though the sun was shining brilliantly on the horizon, and Brock knew it was only a matter of time before it warmed up.
He met Fon and Harry in the cafeteria, the two already seated and chatting away about who knows what. They noticed him when he arrived, and he nodded their way before moving to join the line. It was the same food as yesterday’s breakfast and dinner, and Brock quickly caught on that the chefs only knew one recipe.
Like it was the day before, breakfast was more chewing and less talking, and this time Margo didn’t come over and join them. Instead, she got her food, walked past them while giving her greetings, and sat with Erin, the earth manipulator Brock had seen on the wall the day before. He hated to admit it, but those spikes he thought would be useless had been oddly effective. Though one of the two deaths had been due to a warrior being unaware of them when he dodged an attack.
Harry had made a joke at the ‘funeral’ about ‘friendly fire’ being activated, and Brock had instantly slapped him over the back of the head. He didn’t even know what that meant but judging by how several people stared daggers at the boy, it wasn’t a good thing.
As Brock took the final bite of his Swarm Steak – as he had fittingly deemed it – the back of his neck tingled unpleasantly, and he glanced behind him. It was literally the one section of the cafeteria that had no one in it. Still…
I swear I feel like something’s watching me…
His gaze scanned over the area for a little while longer before he licked his dry lips and reluctantly turned away. Thankfully, the squirting flavours of the steak were enough to elevate his mood and make him forget all about it, and he finished his breakfast in relative peace.
The impromptu head of Sanctuary visited Brock and his gang afterwards, and privately they discussed the issue further away from the ears of other citizens. They were still betting everything on them, and the last thing the town needed right now was a significant drop in morale.
“What’re your thoughts on the lack of a hive?” Margo led the conversation right away, directing the question at the most powerful man present, though everyone could tell she didn’t mind who answered.
Brock chewed his lip, “I was thinking that they maybe travel through the air from somewhere further away. But they also have no wings, so…”
He gestured silently as if it explained what ‘so…’ meant.
Harry still hadn’t finished his breakfast and saw fit for him to provide the background noise of him noisily chewing on meat. Margo sighed after a couple of seconds, seeing that no one else had any input and that the flight theory was a potential bust, but Fon suddenly interjected.
“The Hunters can make themselves invisible right?”
Brock could immediately see where she was going, “You think they cloaked the hive?”
Fon smiled lightly and nodded. Margo looked between them, unable to keep a smile from her own face, “That’s certainly possible…”
As a group, they chatted on the theory further, and in the end surmised that a physical approach to checking the area was a better idea than one of aura, as auras could only detect other aura signatures. Margo left in higher spirits than when she arrived, and the trio loitered around the wall until the day’s wave came.
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Fortunately, all the warriors sported metal armour instead of their usual chitin and leathers, and wielded blades that were yet to see the dulling that combat brought. Of course, this was all thanks to Brock and the thousands upon thousands of armaments he possessed within his spatial ring.
As he jumped down onto the arid earth to prepare for battle, he looked back and eyed the ballista-crossbow he had lent to the archers. If it had been able to kill the Tyrant of the Sky, he knew it would be more than enough to deal with the Swarm Hunters, heavy armour or not.
It was probably a good choice too, since as the horde approached closer and closer, Brock finally realised that the numbers of enemies had dwindled. From a bit over twenty thousand, the insects now numbered roughly half that, although the rippling figures in the tide were far more numerous.
The creator of the creatures seemed to have forsaken numbers for individual strength this time, far more so than the day before. And it was only slight, but Brock thought he caught glimpses of a flickering form hiding among the insects, lanky and fast. He struggled to pick out any specific aura among the thousands, so he’d just have to wait and see what it was.
The first of the tide arrived and Brock was upon them, fighting alongside the people of the town. He didn’t know them very well, mostly because many were still scared of the power he possessed and the brutality of which he fought, but they respected what he was doing for them, nonetheless.
Cleaving a head from its body before spinning around and driving his blade into the forehead of another, Brock was a maelstrom of death and destruction. His Augments roared out, killing dozens of Spawn wherever they went and taking the focus of the battlefield onto him.
Spectral chains shot out of the ground and restrained a rippling figure just as it rose up behind an unsuspecting warrior, and promptly, it was torn to bloodied chunks, the corrosion ignoring the armour entirely. The man yelled out his gratitude and got back to the killing.
Harry too was an epitome of chaos, staving tides of the creatures back with his brutal swings, eagerly waiting out the time it took for his Necrotoxin to render the beasts to blackened mush. From above Fon rained down arrows, her accuracy improving and killing an insect with every third shot or so.
With his Augment of Skies, Brock tore through a Hunter with a wind blade, before rapidly twisting around and laying a kick onto its upper torso. It separated from the savage gash across its lower body and its organs spilled out as it died, crimson gore spurting free as it slumped to the scorched earth below. Brock breathed out slowly, but his breath hitched in his throat when he detected a new aura rapidly approaching his position.
He could barely see the creature, only its blurred outline and glowing green eyes. Its aura fell short of the Hunters by only a few levels, but there was the undeniable presence of an Augment within. Before Brock could even muster a defence, it was upon him, speeding faster than even he himself could.
His arm blade flashed up, down, left, and right as he countered a series of rapid blows from the creature’s two pairs of bladed arms, and he responded with a kick to its chest, using his Augment of Skies to force it backwards. With its momentum stalled, it rolled over the earth before finally regaining its bearings and rising up, letting Brock view its appearance in full.
It was a lanky thing, far more so than even the basic Spawn, though he could easily recognise the coiled power dormant within its thin appendages. Unlike the Hunters, it possessed plates of chitin that were so brittle his kick had already broken them and forced green blood to dribble out. Clearly, it was made to be light.
And fast.
A second later it was moving again, flashing before Brock and meeting him with all four of its arms bearing down on him. Snorting, he imbued his arm blade with Sparks and slashed upward to meet the attacks. What he didn’t expect was the blue hue the insect’s own blades adopted, as well as the burst of superheated steam that exploded outward as the blows collided.
Wincing from the heat against his face, Brock skittered back from the obscuration and narrowed his eyes to the aura signature hidden within. An Augment of Water or something? This thing… is made to counter me?
Fuck, that queen insect’s probably smarter than Harry.
He wasn’t even surprised that the Tyrant had adapted its fighting force to best counter that of the opposition. That did beg the question though; what was it fighting for? Sure, he was aware monsters attacked whatever they saw, but the hive was at least a few kilometres away, as the tracks suggested.
Was the Tyrant instead protecting something?
This time, Brock decided to take the initiative and he exploded forward, Skies shoving him onward to speeds that rivalled the insect’s own. Of course, that meant he exceeded the limits of his Dexterity and struggled to perceive the surroundings with his own eyes, but his aura senses were fine. And they had a clear target in their sights.
Brock dropped to the ground as a pair of watery blades slid through the space above him and kicked up a storm of dust as he continued. It was rapidly dispelled, however, as a blade of air tore up through the cloud and into the joint of the creature’s leg as Brock passed it by.
Quickly, he used his Augment to stall his momentum, albeit painfully, and he spun around and stood, instantly skewering the chest of the monster with his blade. Green spurted out and onto his sleeve. The monster screeched.
Brock would have moved to skewer its head next if not for the surge of sharpened water that exploded around it and forced him backwards, hissing in pain. His eyes widened as it used the respite and sped off into the distance, desperately making a move to escape as it was well aware it had lost the battle. Brock might not have been faster, but unlike the creature, he wasn’t wounded.
Get back here boy.
Immediately, Brock exploded from the ground and into a full sprint, chasing behind the beast and away from the battlefront. A hundred meters. Two hundred. Five hundred. One kilometre. The distance grew with each passing moment, but slowly, Brock was gaining on it. Then finally, it collapsed to the ground.
Brock slowed himself and arrived beside it seconds later, though he didn’t immediately move to kill the already dying creature, its heart having been punctured through. No, instead he gazed down the hole that had appeared directly in front of it and the darkness that obscured it deep down below. Idly, he noticed that every few seconds, it flickered, briefly replacing the tunnel with the sight of more arid earth.
He raised his brows as he swiftly stomped the beast’s head in, killing it. Fon was right?
Brock spared a glance behind him, at the town obscured by mirage, and licked his teeth. He looked back down at the hole. Strangely enough, it was entirely devoid of any aura traces, as though they had been somehow extinguished.
“Yeah, why not?”
Scratching his growing stubble, Brock stomped the creatures head in, and entered the hole.