Jack clenched his teeth as another ship exploded in a fireball. This was a trap, a ruse meant to lure the Selfians out. Or, at least he believed so as the commandos aboard the floating coffins raced to disarm the bombs.
Spinning to face the oncoming horde of enemies, Jack erected a barrier of swirling wind, blocking the hail of gunfire with gale forces that began to rock the boats.
Seeing their bullets be ineffective, several High Table workers rushed Jack, one armed with a wrench and another a knife.
Jack shook his head, decapitating one man while the other he grabbed by the face, and held the squirming man aloft as he settled his gaze on the soldiers rushing towards him.
“If you don't want to die,” Jack said, crushing the man's head and coating himself in a fresh veneer of red viscera. “Surrender. This is your only chance.”
The situation was outside Jack's control now, all he could do was hope the commandos stopped the bombs and kill everyone that attempted to stop them.
Of course the High Table goons didn't surrender, instead they raced forward, charging Jack who merely sighed and readied his hand to unleash a blade of wind that would kill the angry mob.
“Enough.”
A high pitched squeak cut through the battlefield, a prelude before a singular word from a deep voice ordered the men to stand down.
“Welcome to Zanzibar your Majesty, would you refrain from killing my men?”
Jack narrowed his eye, hand outstretched with a swirl of mana ready to wipe out the crowd before him. He turned his head to the left, focusing on the camera that was focused on him.
“And I don't?” Jack raised a brow.
“I'll hit the detonator in my hand and destroy every ship docked in the port. Call off your attack.”
Jack clicked his teeth, waiting for a moment before reaching up to his ear piece.
“Admiral Skirita, halt your attack,” Jack said, giving the order as Selfian aircraft appeared in the distance.
“What?” The officer replied back over the sound of tank tracks.
“The boats are rigged to blow, call off your attack!” Jack barked as the Selfian gunships drew closer.
Silence.
For a moment Jack was concerned that the admiral would disregard him but as the Selfian wyvern fighter craft soared overhead without releasing their payload, Jack knew the Admiral had heeded his order.
“Now what? What's the point of this trap?” Jack asked, staring at the camera.
“To meet you of course,” The Red Rook said, stepping from out of the crowd to stand before Jack with an army of his followers at his back.
At fix-six, the Rook wasn't impressively tall, nor was he physically intimidating, instead, to Jack's eye, he appeared to be just an average man in an officer’s uniform with cybernetics and no mana core.
Yet despite his lack of magical talent, he stood before Jack with a detonator in his robotic hand.
“Well?” Jack asked, locking gazes with the man.
“Hm. You look a lot like him,” Dorian Jazz said, standing a foot away from Jack, “So, you are the one who killed Cynthia.”
“The gold queen? Yeah, I killed her,” Jack said, watching as the red rook held the detonator with its glowing button out.
“Amazing isn't it? The fate of the world determined by a button and powerful as you are, I, a mortal man hold you captive,” Jazz said he turned, exposing his back to Jack, and walked towards a soldier who took the detonator.
“What has the Black King promised you? Why do you still fight?” Jack asked, his angel eye picking up a mana flare in the distance from Ivan who was watching them through his scope. “What makes you all so loyal to him?”
“Loyal to him?” Jazz turned, taking off his officer’s coat to reveal a muscular physique laced with metal. “That is where you’re wrong, King of the Empire. Every man, every woman, every soldier that you see before you belongs to neither nation nor organization. The people you see are the scorned, the forgotten, the ones abandoned by our nations for profit and greed. We are survivors.”
Jack eyed the tattoo of a staff and blade on the man’s heart, the symbol of the Solomon expedition.
“Who work for a madman,” Jack said, narrowing his eye at the man who had an air of authority to him. A man that reminded him of Hoffman.
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“Who gave us purpose, opportunity, a chance to build a paradise for soldiers after we were abandoned,” Jazz said as a pair of soldiers carried and set down a large crate beside the man. “But of course, we were used…lied to just like you were. As monarchs do.”
Jack could detect the mana within the large box, the type of signature indicative of an enchanted item.
“So, what's the deal here? You set this trap to regale me with a sob story? You being lied to isn't an excuse for the atrocities committed, the suffering done to the world and the families lost. Look around you, is this hellacape a paradise you?”
“You are right,” Jazz said as one of his subordinates handed him a crowbar that he used to open the crate and reveal a large silver buster blade. “But you kill too when it suits your needs.”
Jack stared at the man, doing his best to ignore the Admiral in his ear as the crowd produced a table with various melee weapons layed out.
“Anyway, enough of that,” The Rook said, lifting the massive slab that swirled with energy. On the blade, a visible inscription of a stylized dragon baring its fangs, “Let’s get down to business. I wish to have a duel.”
“A duel?” Jack repeated, brow raised.
“Yes, a duel. A fight to the death. You took someone from me, someone extremely precious which, I suppose is fair given all that you've lost,” Jazz said, “An eye for an eye. So I am slaved to my emotions to fight you. No powers, no mana, just skill.”
…
“Is he serious?” Lilith laughed.
“And if I break your rules I assume you'll destroy the boats?” Jack replied, eye turned to the table filled by weapons.
“Of course.”
“And what guarantee that I have that you won't just blow up the boats? That your subordinates won't do so once I kill you?”
The Rook smiled, “You have only my word. However, if you do triumph over me, I only ask that you spare the lives of my men as prisoners of war.”
“Fine,” Jack said, flexing his hand before approaching the table filled with enchanted weapons.
Jack grabbed a short sword, a gladius that was small comparative to the massive sword held by the Rook.
From the intricate carvings and runes etched across it, he could tell it was enchanted long before he felt the energy of the weapon.
[Broken Gladius of Achilles]
-Error.
“Well… let's go,” Jack said, shooting off the ground, his blade smacking against the massive enchanted weapon that moved to bear the brunt of his attack.
“Tch!” Jazz let out, the great sword absorbing the brunt of Jack's strength.
Jazz roared, the grey-haired brunette slashing at Jack with the blade unleashing a wave of kinetic energy that sent Jack back.
“This is Gram, the legendary blade said to have been used to exterminate dragons,” Jazz said, holding the great sword out, “It empowers and protects its wielder, absorbing kinetic force and either storing it or unleashing it against aggressors. A direct confrontation is ill-advised.”
Jack eyed the black-edge blade, the legendary artifact dangerous to awakened.
“Say the word and I'll dome him. All ya gotta do is secure the detonator,” Ivan said, whispering in Jack's ear through their shared COM-LINK.
Jack's eye shifted to the man holding the detonator, an easy task if they timed it correctly.
But then what of the crew? What of the men and women under the Rook’s command who stared at him.
Easy, he'd just have to kill them all.
Jack considered it for a moment, how easily he could massacre everyone here.
“No,” Jack said, pulling the COM-LINK from his ear much to a confused Jazz who raised a brow. “I have a sniper positioned on a hill who's very keen on taking you out. Dorian Jazz, I, Jack Knight, accept your duel.”
This put a small smile on the Rook's face. “I, am Dorian Jazz of the High… of the Lost Battalion. I stand before you, with blade aloft, my heart aflame, to face you, King of the empire.”
Jack charged forward, slashing at the man with expert aim learned from his hardships, but Jazz was no slouch, the old officer using Gram’s auto defensive features and his cybernetics to keep up with Jack who's movements began to pick up.
The Red Rook activated Gram, sending a shockwave through Jack who merely clenched his jaw and continued his assault, working through the constant feedback of kinetic energy.
Between the pair, blurs and sparks, the very air heating up from the two clashing as the Red Rook’s body visibly tore and bled from every orifice.
First it was his left arm, the cybernetic tearing from his flesh as he held onto Gram.
Then it was his eyes, the strain exploding the blood vessels within.
And lastly, the man's shoulders and waist, the rapid shift in movement tearing away the skin and fastened metal to reveal bleeding flesh and torn muscles.
Finally, the pair separated, the Red Rook still standing despite his body falling apart.
“Tell me… did Cynthia suffer?” The old officer asked.
Jack adjusted his blade, his body already regenerating what little damage was done to him by the feedback of gram, “It was over very quickly.”
Of course this was a lie, he had dragged the Gold Queen screaming through the city after crippling the woman before depositing her on the ruins of his old apartment and feeding her to the demonspawn.
But the Rook didn't know that. Or maybe he did. Either way, it didn't matter as Jack stood over the man's bleeding body.
“The problem with autonomous weapons is that they only protect you if they can react,” Jack said as the Red Rook lay crumpled over with his arm missing and Jack holding the Gram aloft. “Seems I'm too fast now.”
The Red Rook chuckled, bleeding profusely, a normal man who stood against a demi-god.
Jack spun, holding the Gram aloft with both hands as the crowd surprisingly made no attempt to stop the execution.
There were looks in the eyes of the gathered soldiers, fear, hesitation, anger. But they made no move to resist as the Rook simply smiled at his soldiers.
For a moment, Jack considered the idea of sparing the man, but… he knew what the Rook had been complicit to, what the Rook had done in raising an army in the Archangel Michael's name.
He had to die.
“Any last words?” Jack said, his new weapon held aloft.
“None… only… that you spare my men,” Jazz wheezed, turning his head and nodding to his officer who disarmed the detonator. “Do this, and everything you need to know will be on my desk.”
“Very well,” Jack said before he brought the blade down.