Chapter 5: Half-wolf

“Some acts of Evil are wise.”

- Ignis, in ‘The Sons and Daughters of Primals.’

Crumbs his lips thinned. Did she have to choose this moment to blackout?

Jester tilted his head.

"Guess she reached her limit. For supernaturals, your kind really is weak."

‘Your kind,’ Crumbs repeated in his mind. Yellow eyes turned to the unconscious woman. She’s one of ours. He kept his eyes from widening.

“I don’t think you get to say that after the pup hit you twice.”

It had gotten a laugh out of him, which was why he stepped in in the first place. Anyone who ridiculed Jester deserved a pat on the shoulder. But now that he knew she was an irregular, not saving her would be a complete waste of her fighting skills.

Jester grunted.

“Beginner’s luck.”

The clown leaned forward, angling the tip of his weapon but Crumbs dropped his sword entirely. A quickstep ate the small distance separating them. Liquid rushed through the tubes on Crumbs his glove, and sparks erupted from his fist, causing the air to sizzle. The hit connected. It cratered Jester's stomach, and a pop echoed as he flew backwards.

Wasting no time, Crumbs retrieved his weapon in one fell swoop and made it to the girl's side. He clicked his tongue. She was taller and heavier than him by a margin.

He breathed in deep, mana rushing through his veins. Then, heaved her over his shoulder.

“You chose the wrong night to take a stroll.”

It should’ve been common knowledge that the Cleansers were on a crusade in this area since a few weeks ago. And if Jester’s here, the others will be too. The clown acted tough but never went out alone or made a move that put his life on the line. Crumbs would bet money the one he’d punched just now was another clone.

He darted into an alley on the side, used a nearby dumpster for leverage and jumped up on the roofs.

Iron panels rang as he dashed over what must've been somebody's store. He spared the girl a glance. Blood did its best to hide it, but the entirety of her arm had turned white. She wouldn't make it if he didn't find her medical aid soon.

He reached into his breast pocket with his free arm and rotated the tuner on his communication device.

There was a click.

“Vivien, Tank, status?”

“I’m—”

Gravel shattering cut off Vivien’s voice.

“Kind of busy, Cheesebread.”

Not busy enough to call him by his proper name, it seemed. Who was she fighting? She should only be a few blocks away.

Crumbs leapt over another building, his head swivelling in place.

“Good to hear. I’m on the roofs near—”

“You idiot!” Vivien said. “Get off the damned roofs, Crippler is—”

A spear-like object kissed the inside of his thigh mid-jump. Erregar, he cursed the name of the God of Death. He landed, almost missing a step.

“Noted.”

The arrow had come from his right, so Crumbs jumped back onto the street and hugged the walls.

“Crumbs,” Tank sounded over the connection. “You need to see this.”

The man in question shifted his charge into a better position.

“See what?”

“Well…let’s just say Varreck wasn’t kidding when he said the Cleansers are planning something big. There’s bodies everywhere.”

Crumbs bit his lip. Were they too late?

“I need to get to the hospital,” Crumbs said.

“Are you hurt?” His friends asked in tandem.

“No, but I saved someone from Jester’s clone. She won’t make it another thirty minutes..”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Good news was that they were making leeway: he could see Clementine’s towering buildings in the distance.

Bad news was that silence was his answer.

“Crumbs,” Tank began. There was an undercurrent in his tone, one your mother would use after you returned home covered in mud for the hundredth time.

“The bodies are leading towards the orphanage.”

The House of Tragically Orphaned Shuras. Fuck. Had he not been carrying the girl, Crumbs would’ve punched something.

Tank would no doubt be on his way there. However…

“They’re moving in groups, Crumbs. I can’t defend the House by myself.” Tank finished his thought.

So, either he left the girl or the orphanage to die. Two Evils of which you pick the lesser. Why does it always come down to this?

Crumbs wanted to stall, to put off the decision entirely, but indecisiveness was a sin.

He gave the girl another glance.

“I’m sorry.”

Instead of dropping her where he stood, he took her a few streets down to the central plaza, where they held a market during the day. Stores surrounded it on all sides—all covered with shutters of such a quality that they were more for show than anything else.

His head spun in search of a decent hiding place. Just because he was going to leave her didn’t mean he couldn’t try to increase her chances of survival.

A large statue of Eva, She of Healing, stood in front of a tiered fountain in the middle of the plaza. Her depictions were often the same: a busty woman with hair cascading down to her hips. Another key feature was the basket placed in front of her to distribute food to the people. The box was open and hollow. Crumbs put the girl inside.

He drew a vial out of his pocket. There was a single green pill inside. Crumbs exhaled. My last one. A low-tier version, since shopkeepers didn’t sell the higher quality pills to Shuras, and getting one off the black market cost a fortune. He made her swallow the medicine. The effect was immediate: there was the faint sound of her flesh knitting together around the knife.

“This is the best I can do for you.”

Crumbs his nails dug into his palm. It was a shame, but time was up. Anymore delaying, and he could be too late to help defend the orphanage. At least she would no longer bleed to death. That may have bought her another half an hour to an hour. Hopefully, the Primals would smile at her during that time. If not…

Leather boots bashed on concrete, and the tubes on Crumbs his gloves lit up.

“I’ll make sure to avenge you.”

That he could promise—

The sound of a page turning—paper scraping over paper—came from above.

A tingle rippled through the fur on the back of Crumbs his leg, which stopped in mid-air.

His eyes roved toward the topmost tier of the fountain, the smallest of a trio. On its edge sat a man draped in a long, faded overcoat adorned with sear marks. Beneath the coat and around his neck hung a cherry-coloured necklace. Its pendant was a crystallised flame that lit up when Crumbs stared for too long.

Hands wrapped in tattered bandages held a book with the symbol of the Elemental Nexus on the cover: a circular emblem showcasing the four prime elements. Crumbs recognised the work. The Sons and Daughters of Primals, an advanced text of the church.

The man turned another page. Then, peered down through his monocular.

“—And some acts of Good are foolish.”

Crumbs frowned. I didn’t sense him at all. Had he been sitting out in the open the entire time? That would explain why Crippler hadn’t hounded him any further. He was headed where she wanted him.

“Ignis?” Crumbs asked, trying to buy time to think.

“Ah, a learned individual. Pleasant—”

He jumped down, his coat fluttering in the updraft.

“It’s an uttering of the Purifier, yes,” he said when he landed. “Tell me, what side are you leaning on today, foolish or wise?”

“Human.” Crumbs his chest rose, chuckling at the inside joke.

Lips curved upward as the book slammed shut.

“Innovative.”

Crumbs shifted his feet, slowly taking a wider stance. He couldn’t sense any mana coming off the stranger, which wasn’t a good sign.

“Your name?” Crumbs asked.

“Marco,” he replied.

“Marco, I’m afraid it’s too late if you’re trying to convert me. How about we both go our way?”

“Convert you? Primals, no.” The devotee fastened the church text to a ring on his belt. “Good food is wasted on dogs.”

Worth a shot. Crumbs his legs tensed as he made to dash off—

“Supreme God Art: Hell of Ignis.”

A nova of heat devoured the plaza. It melted the concrete around its core—Marco’s feet—turning it into a rubbery substance that clung to Crumbs his boots. He watched as starving flames bit into the buildings, forming a bird cage whose top reached higher and higher with each mouthful.

A fang in the corner of Crumbs his mouth pinched his lip. It was just his luck to meet a sorcerer with enough fire attributes to borrow one of Ignis his Supreme arts. He could dash through the wall of flame. But it would only worsen his situation since Ignis his fires were unique: they wouldn’t douse unless the wielder willed it.

Crumbs released a small burst of mana. It slapped away the thickening warmth in the air, protecting his skin. Hhm. Middling strength for an ultimate ability. Either Marco was conserving his mana, or his attribute total was in the mid-range. Crumbs hoped it was the latter.

He glanced at Eva’s basket. Neither the girl nor the statue would survive the fallout of an extended battle. Finishing this quickly was better for everyone.

“Central plaza. Engaging,” Crumbs spoke into seemingly nothing.

Marco tilted his head.

Crumbs discarded his gauntlets, which landed with a thud. He closed his eyes, letting the particles of ash that began to dominate the air space invade his lungs. They pricked into the soft of his flesh, challenging his concentration. Then, his heartbeat stopped.

Thoughts of his mother and sister flashed through his mind, of what would happen if the wrong person got their hands on them. He locked onto those images. A primal urge crept up his chest in the aftermath: something dark, twisted and sick.

Bones cracked. Specially made clothing stretched at the shoulders, waist and thighs. The size of his calves doubled. His fur grew longer, covering his face like a mane, and his mask fell, revealing a maw filled with too long and too sharp teeth to be human.

Crumbs, the Half-wolf, grabbed his sword from his waist. Mana coursed freely from his limb into the blade, metal malformed and bubbled, growing until it reached the size of a great sword. Crumbs growled, and lightning ruptured into being that consumed both his body and weapon. Branches of the godly element lashed at the space around Crumbs at random as if to wave at the blaze caging him in.

The seas of flames grew denser as its parts joined hands, sang and danced like children around a bonfire.

Marco realigned his monocular.

“A half capable of entering their Shura form. Dale was right—”

Dale, Crumbs repeated the name in his head. Hearing the name of the leader of the Cleansers confirmed his suspicion. What were they doing, working with the church?

The ends of Marco’s hair combusted.

“—you have to be killed first. Before your toxins spread into the rest of the barrel.”