Everything happened so fast in Remembrance Plaza while they defended against the siege sent by the remaining Sungrazers. Echo Team was awfully an irresistible target to them. There was a Superweapon capable of seriously injuring the Comets, plus two castlebreakers were in the process of reverting the demesne established by the Miracle. But the Ordoians had turned the plaza into a castle of their own.
They repurposed the broken monoliths in the memorial to use as hard cover and platforms, creating a purple-black perimeter of hard engraved stone which was sometimes splattered gold from the dedications to the Sovereigns. The surfaces were littered with hot brass and scrolls and energy capsules and arrows and half-empty potions—most of all, sand and gravel and dirt, scratching against their forearms.
Rifles and swords manning the front guard overlooked the field of battle, watching monsters climb over a seabed of their brethren. Just like them, they survived for a handful of heartbeats before being shredded from afar by lead and magick—taken to the multiversal grave. Lots of monsters here, but lots of humans too.
Kreutz and Wonder—since at this point, Ikeya had fallen and was used as food for one of the three Diminutive Cosmic Beasts—had redirected monster pods throughout the city. The first moments of the siege were the hardest. Endless otherworldly threats stretched into the smoking horizon from all sorts of ranks. Though most couldn’t withstand high-velocity combination fire, ammunition was a precious commodity in a restricted environment. Seeing thousands prowling the streets, it was understood they did not have the resources to endure a siege at this intensity.
However, ever since the Slayer Emergence, wherever monsters roamed, mankind followed.
Those monster pods that the Sungrazers had redirected, many of them were engaged in combat with other forces. Whatever the Comets’ original intentions were, it was downright stupid to assume that most wouldn’t chase after their intended targets—or at the very minimum, investigate why their quarries were disengaging in the first place.
Reinforcements came earlier than Echo Team expected, and to them that was a miracle. To the so-called ‘reinforcements’, though, they had no idea what the hell was going on nor why this random team was a hot commodity all of the sudden. Monsters were attacking the good guys, so that was explanation plenty.
Leona supposed this was the best (and only) solution they had. The Sungrazers. Only Wonder could create monsters through environmental alterations, as seen with the Tormented Flesh and the demesne itself, or introducing them through spatial rifts via external tools. As a whole, the Sungrazers did not have the power to create unless explicitly given.
The Baptists were notified about the recent development in Vesper indirectly by the Slayer System: Gul, Vice Guild Master Jin, and Prominence had been incapacitated at the hands of the Lesser Caller. The B-Ranks of Ordo University were rather concerned about hearing their former professor hurt, but they had to put aside their worries for the sake of the mission.
Leona sympathized, because now Kreutz went unchallenged in Vesper. Everyone important was off fighting Wonder in Creekwood; hypothetically if all of them blitzed towards Kreutz right now, they’d arrive at a smoldering Encampment and Alexander would be long dead in a car accident.
The only ones capable of rescuing their handsome commander were the Baptists themselves.
“Wait for me, Empress.” These words rang fondly in Leona’s heart. On any normal day, she’d be swooning but she was rather busy speaking with the others, trying to formulate a plan to rescue their commander.
Alexander was making his way here, experiencing a car chase you’d only see in an action movie.
The Baptists discussed how they were going to meet up with him. Currently the siege was reaching a low point but the second wave was bound to begin at any moment now—that meant imminent action. Against Kreutz? They’d be emotional support at best, distractions at worst. The largest obstacle was the Superweapon. They needed it for Kreutz but faced these problems: one, it had to be used for Wonder first; two, monsters clogged the roads and the most effective snowplow was busy castlebreaking; and three, what would happen to the castlebreakers?
Before anyone could propose a solution, all dilemmas were conveniently solved when the sky above them began to change. Conversation grinded to an awe-stricken silence as everyone in Remembrance Plaza observed the phenomenon. It finally happened. The night that’d tormented Ordo for nine days straight, placing them in darkness during their desperate survival, was gone. As though someone had stirred the sky, it vanished just like that.
“My God…” Leona muttered to herself.
The afternoon was a lovely thing. Warm and comfortable and familiar, reminded Leona of so many fond memories she’d made with everybody.
When the demesne had fallen—which meant the monsters were no longer manifesting through natural means, but that said nothing about the ones coming through portals—the two castlebreakers collapsed on their bellies, heaving. Telescopium was worse for the wear, and Problem was the first one to come to his side.
“Don’t die on us now, old rag,” he berated Telescopium for some reason. In his immature body, he wasn’t strong enough to lift the elder up so he used magick instead. “You actually made good on your promise.”
“Ah, don’t get snarky on me now, little boy. I—hak!” Blood coughed out onto Telescopium’s palm. He groaned at the sight of it, annoyed. “It was stronger than either of us anticipated. Even with our combined strength, we weren’t enough to tear it down.”
“Weren’t enough?” Fusil questioned the absurdity of that statement, watching the Void God slowly climb to his feet. “The two of you weren’t enough to destroy it?”
“The Constellation is correct,” stated the god. “From the moment we reached an impediment, it would have doomed us. We did not have the stamina to complete the process, thus we would have failed through attrition. The Almagest member first, then I. Until a third party had stepped in and saved us all.”
“A third party? Your superior?” Evenfall asked Telescopium.
He scoffed, laughing before coughing again. “Of course not, she doesn’t give a damn about your lives. It wasn’t her energy anyhow. This was eastern in some way. I—”
Someone screamed “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”, then a few others repeated until even the dead in Remembrance Plaza could hear in no uncertain terms. Initially the call-out perplexed Leona and some of the Baptists. That was, until they asked themselves: What would warrant this amount of caution?
The answer was very simple.
[Coordinates Registered]
[Marker Acknowledged]
For the second time, the Wonder Superweapon fired.
If Leona hadn’t plugged her ears, she would be deaf for a few minutes. The shell raced to Wonder’s exact position, leaving behind a deep blue trail, The engineers near the Superweapon cheered which gave way to a quick celebratory hooting and hollering before everyone continued their business, energized.
A direct hit, Leona presumed. Now that Echo had performed their obligation for the Miracle, they had to do the same for the Caller.
The Martials were informed of Kreutz’s current status—still chasing Alexander. They had little options but to break out of Remembrance Plaza and move closer to him.
“Everyone, work your asses off!” shouted Thunderstrike as furiously as ever. He went on to hand out specific orders to his engineers and fellow Martials, wanting rapid maintenance done on the Superweapon. Yatsar diligently worked while Alma was threatened into labor, and Blackviper helped organize the move. They went on their duties with more vigor than before.
It went for everyone. Those on the brink of exhaustion experienced a second wind, more determined than ever to see this thing through until the end.
[EXPEDITION ALERT]
INCAPACITATED: Sage
Sage? Wasn’t she in the Encampment? Kreutz had moved on a while ago so why was she incapacitated now? She didn’t come with Alexander. Leona, as much as she cared about Sage, couldn’t answer these questions and instead prayed for her. That girl was the heart of her found family. As strange and eccentric she was, everybody loved her unconditionally.
“We need to go now,” Leona told th Baptists as she withdrew her [Ornate Jikdo], peering in the direction of Alexander’s trek. Distant growling was heard. Even when the night collapsed, these garbage were still so adamant on wanting blood. “It’s going to take some time until the Superweapon starts moving, but we need to clear the street for them. The first problem is the bodies in the streets, but Devoy is an easy solution. The harder part is…”
“Getting there ourselves,” Operator finished.
Leona inhaled and nodded, taking one last look at the crew they had brought together. Most of them had been there since the conception, others tagged along for the ride. The Dawn Baptists, brought together by Seraph. Of them, Alexander shone the brightest. The infamous Pseudo who’d fought ten Apocalyptics and won, the commander taking charge of the counteroffensive to kill the Sungrazers, and now he was coming here.
She had known him for years. All sides of him and loved him for them: the sarcastic asshole who was a master at verbal and physical jabbing; the loving brother who’d do anything for his family; the greatest friend who’d take a bullet for you—the man willingly ignoring his own talents, the boy battling his trauma.
The hero who had accepted himself to do what was right, the leader who had faith in his team.
This was Alexander’s natural state of being, Leona felt, if he hadn’t been burdened by Hangzhou. Or maybe this was him after he emerged stronger for it. Wiser.
One last time, Leona counted the Baptists. They were friends he made before the Ordo Disaster, family he swore to protect, Slayers who he had the pleasure of knowing because of the incident, and people he’d rather never meet again. Here, united under a single goal: defeat the Sungrazers.
They needed him to do it.
The hardest part was getting there.
With these people?
“It’ll be easy,” Leona said with a smile. “It’ll be easy.”
So wait for us, Alex. Stay safe.
~~~
“Shit, shit, shit—!” Alexander’s fingers went white from desperately death-gripping onto the assist handle above his head. The hard terrain rattled and bounced the pick-up truck, his so-called ‘emergency transport’, and it was flattening the crown of his head.
This fucking thing will be his coffin, he swore.
Barely having the focus, he watched the rearview mirror. Dust and pebbles kicked up by the wheels had turned into a brown cloud. Beyond there were distant light shows of magick and ballistics, and by the faintest sliver of visibility a horrific monstrosity was seen. One glorified fucking antenna with more ribbons than a baby shower.
And it was using those ribbons to tear the shit out of Ordo, shooting them like missiles. Left, right, colorful bands crashed around them and caused tremors with each landing. Kreutz was about one hundred meters behind and coming at them fast. It was the opposite of storm chasers—the fucking tornado was chasing them.
When one band struck the street about ten meters ahead, Jackhammer cursed and swerved out of the way, overcorrected and nearly crashed into a tipped-over car, but he managed to retain control and got back on track. They avoided an accident and Alexander avoided a heart attack. Might’ve pissed himself but pants wet with piss was a lot better than pants wet with blood.
“Can you not kill us before Kreutz does?!” reprimanded Alexander just as Jackhammer took a sharp as hell right turn, causing him to slam against the passenger door. A part of him thought he’d break through the window, fly out, crash onto the road, flopping dead.
“Shut the hell up, kid!” They both flinched as a ribbon struck close. Couldn’t see where but they heard it like a bullet whizzing by your head. Shook the truck bad and another accident scare paralyzed him. “Where’s the next station?!” asked Jackhammer after.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Alexander threw himself on the dashboard and threw a finger forward. “Couple blocks down! See the Slayers at the windows?!”
“No, ‘cause my eyes are on the road so we don’t fuckin' crash!” Jackhammer punctuated his statement by jerking the wheel, going around a smoking armored transport then another in the opposite direction. The tail whipped back and forth but straightened itself with surprisingly expert driving.
When they crossed the intersection, Slayer Teams blurred past them. Alexander barely had a moment to register what they were doing: performing a ritual—like the kind Problem specialized—which glowed and activated as soon as he passed. Whatever trick they had, it’d stop Kreutz for a second at most.
But seconds were precious things now.
By some miracle they arrived at the next station whole and not in a burning wreck. It wasn’t anything special, not like a marathon where you had people ready to hand you a refreshing water bottle. It had a collection of Slayers arriving last second having less than a few minutes to do their damned best, making sure Conqueror kept going.
One Slayer stepped out closer and waved his hand frantically, yelling something.
“Slow down, slow down!” Alexander ordered, slapping the dashboard, and Jackhammer eased off the gas, slow but not putting the truck to a complete stop.
The Slayer gulped, eyes switching between the ground and the truck before risking it and jumping onto the bed with a heavy thud. He rolled, almost slid off the side like a sailor thrown overboard but he saved himself. He sat against the house’s back, yelled something again but neither passenger or driver could hear him. He licked his lips, locked his elbow and smashed out the rear window.
“Hey!” the hitchhiker said filled with adrenaline.
Alexander asked, “The hell’s going on?!”
“I’m your shielder!” said the guy now known as Shielder, his torn blue shoulder cape flapping violently as Jackhammer pressed on the gas. “I’ll protect you guys! Just don’t freaking crash!”
“No promises! This shithead is awful at driving!” Alexander replied and cracked an anxious chuckle. It did nothing to cure his jitters and Jackhammer clearly didn’t appreciate the joke.
The men sat against their seats. For Shielder, he was in the worst position: no cabin, no safeguards. A bad turn would do him in. The man was brave, Alexander had to give him that. Brave and stupid—it might be just the thing to save their asses.
Alexander couldn’t keep track of time. Seconds came fast blitzing down clear roads. They came slow during the worst of it. Sometimes a minute passed after an eternity, sometimes a few minutes flew by. The world was warped by chaos and relative peace, so instead he used a different measurement: distance.
One kilometer: phone calls and notifications on the Slayer System. Shielder kept them updated on Kreutz's progress. One-fifty meters out, one-quarter, less than one hundred, back up to one-ten. The motherfucker was relentless. It lost everything now. Pereyra and Tewfik were dead. Ikeya was dead and Wonder was just killed. Now the Great Kreutz remained, wanting to at least get rid of the promised Conqueror before the last Cosmic Beasts were killed.
Three kilometers. Alexander wished they had switched to an SMV earlier—didn’t have the time. Jackhammer had mistakenly driven into a clogged road filled with cars. A sight you’d see in a zombie apocalypse. Instead of finding an alternate route and struggling, Shielder stood on the truck’s bed and leaned against the cabin.
“Floor it!” he said as he made ritualistic gestures with his hands and fingers.
"What?!" shouted both men.
"Just do it!"
“Jesus help us!” Jackhammer prayed and stepped hard on the gas pedal.
Alexander slammed into the seat, held onto the anything he could grab while crying “Fuck—! Fuck—! Fuck—!” as loud as he could.
Seconds before they killed themselves, a transparent blue shield in the shape of a drill was conjured in front of the hood. They plowed through the derelict vehicles as easily as a snowplow after a blizzard. Metal screamed all around. Cars flipped on their sides and roofs, doors scraped off, and one van stubbornly stuck to the front before being bisected by the drill. Shielder yelped and ducked as scrap buzzed by him.
The congestion was longer than the three of them thought. When they were free, whatever slack they’d created between themselves and Kreutz was negligible. The killer Comet was on their tail again and no doubt it could see them fleeing like rats to humans.
“It’s coming!” cried Shielder, fists banging on the roof as though that’d make Jackhammer drive faster.
Ribbons ripped through the air.
Alexander sunk into his seat, fingers instinctively clung around the seatbelt. The small tremors came again. Kreutz bounced in the side mirror, the words “OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR” mocking Alexander.
“Left!” called Shielder and Jackhammer had no reason to disobey.
Another sharp as fuck turn, but they happened to avoid a crafty trick: Kreutz had blocked the road ahead of them with a wall of ribbons. Each one sharp to the touch, would’ve killed them dead a dozen times over.
Yet the turn nearly tossed Shielder overboard if he didn’t slam his hand on the roof, conjuring a sharp blue dagger and impaling it through the thin metal. It appeared a handful of inches away from Alexander’s head and made him shrink more.
“Shit, fuck me!” he cried, but Shielder stayed on. Barely.
“Next station!” Jackhammer asked as ribbons slashed through the buildings behind them, concrete flying.
“Charles Street!” Alexander answered, sitting up before another ribbon taught him to go back down.
“Great!” said the American, sarcastically shaking his head. “Where the fuck is that at?!”
“Take the second right, goddammit!”
“Monsters ahead!” Shielder banged on the roof again.
Alexander peered up from what was basically a fetal position; motherfucker, he was right. By taking that detour, they’d driven themselves into an entourage of taller-than-usual goblins. Armored ones. Heavier ones.
“Shit, hey Hitchhiker—!”
From his [Inventory], Alexander drew the [Rosario]—his A-Rank energy rifle—and blasted through the windshield. Sharp energy bolts killed a few of the standing goblins on the spot. Not all of them.
Shielder wasn’t fast enough before Jackhammer committed a felony hit-and-run. Multiple felonies. Goblins rolled over the top, crunched below the wheels, and definitely damaged the engine in some way. One particular greenskin managed to deftly latch onto Jackhammer’s door, somehow lifting itself up and slamming its forehead against the glass.
“Back!” howled Alexander and Jackhammer forced himself as much as he could.
One shot shattered the window and knocked the goblin off.
Alexander glanced to Shielder and saw him kicking another greenskin off, one that had somehow managed to roll onto the bed. The Slayer gave a thumbs up.
“The windshield!” Jackhammer alerted him.
It was fractured as hell from all the shooting and bodies. More of an impediment than not. Alexander cursed, stored his rifle away, canted forward. It took a few good hard shoves for the glass to crumple away.
Shielder replaced the windshield with a blue one. Thank God for that; the wind and debris would’ve messed with the driving.
The truck chugged along, weaker because of the goblins. Jackhammer took the second right as instructed, following Alexander’s instructions from there as they reached Charles Street. Another station of Slayers waited for them but there wasn’t any time to stop or slow down.
Kreutz was right behind them. Each time Alexander checked the mirrors, he saw it there menacingly. Just what the fuck did he get himself into?
The only upside was the fact that the street was clear for them. No difficulties in terms of obstacles, but shouts were distantly heard. More ribbons and tremors. If there was a perfect time to gain some distance this would be it, but Jackhammer had been pushing this baby ever since they left the Encampment. It was starting to die on them. No distance gained and nothing lost.
That was going to change soon.
As Alexander contemplated ordering a new transport at the next station, something caught his attention: there was a dark-skinned man standing on the ledge of a rooftop with a futuristic rocket launcher propped on his shoulder.
The man gave Alexander a quick salute before taking aim.
[Skill Activation: Projectile Duplication - Thricefold]
Graylord Milkor fired the rocket launcher. It wasn’t something that Alexander had seen before. A rocket spurred, burning a blinding white propellant. With some sort of skill, he had duplicated the rocket two times—totaling three—and they homed onto Kreutz.
Massive explosions followed and the gas engulfed its entire body. It was so prominent that it stuttered, halted for a few moments.
[Skill Activation: Graylord Operations - Spider Trap]
When Kreutz finally moved, suddenly it couldn’t.
Thin wires had coiled around its body like Archknell’s handiwork. Alexander deduced this was a skill to capture fleeing targets; here, it was repurposed to hinder the Caller.
Giving Alexander the time he needed.
“Thank God for the Graylords!” exclaimed Alexander, wanting to smile but he was too scared out of his mind.
Kreutz was getting smaller in the mirrors, and they were getting closer to their promised destination. They didn’t need to meet with the Baptists—all they had to do was be in range for that beautiful artillery cannon.
Alexander counted down the kilometers. Counted every street Jackhammer drove down, counted every curse when he thought they would crash, or when Shielder protected them from certain death.
They weren’t far now.
Then an awful sound churned from the engine.
“No no no no—!” Jackhammer slapped the dashboard hard where the display broke, “—c’mon sweetheart, just a few miles more! C’mon!”
The truck was slowing down.
He stomped on the gas. “Don’t do this to us, not now!”
Alexander bit his lip, shutting his eyes as their only transportation crawled to its pitiful death. Jackhammer mourned the hardest, hitting everything around him. Kicking and punching and crying.
A scratched-up “FUCK!” finalized their situation, and the three unlucky musketeers hopped out of the truck. For Shielder, it was easy. Alexander and Jackhammer had to kick their doors open because they were stuck.
“We’re four-and-a-half klicks away from the nearest major station!” informed Alexander, knowing they had no other choice than to go on foot. He opened the System and made the updates. “We have guys coming our way but no one is close enough to be our gallant knight on a horse.”
“We’ll barely make it,” Shielder said.
“Barely is what I’m hoping for.”
As a Pseudo, Alexander’s speed lacked compared to the two real Slayers. He managed to keep a good pace, but that was the only thing he was happy about. Kreutz was coming and they had merely their legs.
Alexander chewed on the inside of his cheek as he mindlessly ran to whatever sanctuary was waiting for him next. During this time, he faced the afternoon he’d helped create and saw far off clouds and a spring day out of reach. In these feelings, a small smile managed to crack the current despondency—he could be happy about this too. But it came at a cost. He had concealed Sage’s departure to Seraph and the others. While she had dispelled the demesne and helped kill Wonder, she was incapacitated.
Whatever secret power she had, there was a price to pay. A grave one, whose effects were privy to only her and her family.
Just one of the many decisions he had made throughout the course of the Disaster.
There was the decision to stop Carn back in System Articles. The choice to aid Team Luster and Archknell in the subjugation of two of the Kreutz Sungrazers. Then his life was turned upside down when Seraph revealed this fact: the man known as Alexander Shen would become the first and only EX-Rank Slayer, Conqueror. Now everything felt like twisted Fate, where he acted out a general outline of a story without a script in hand, going through the motions of a familiar yet unrecognizable plot.
He had to continue. He accomplished dozens of missions over the past nine days, chasing after the Sungrazers’ coattails and trying to find anything on them. Then he found himself in Grendel Arsenal and met the Martials, attracting the attention of Jin Tiehan and fighting Apocalyptics who’d caused the OBD incident. Alexander killed them and recognized the prodigy buried deep inside him, the monster that Dad had feared. Imagine what Dad would think about this: his boy was the commander of his very own strike force.
Unrealistic in almost every circumstance.
Now here he was, having turned from a reluctant college student into a war hero.
But heroes die, don’t they?
Alexander’s blood chilled when the familiar sounds of ribbons thrashed close.
Despite himself, he stopped and found his adversary encroaching from above the rooftops. It was more than a football field out but the gap could be easily crossed faster than they could count to one hundred. Kreutz came not unscratched. Some ribbons were torn and a few spikes were snapped off its head, but far from the severity to consider death was near.
The reverse, actually. Death was near for them.
“I found you, Conqueror,” said the Caller.
Jackhammer and Shielder stopped, its voice scratching their eardrums, disgustingly intimate to the point of uncanny repulsion.
No one was coming fast enough to save them.
“I never did ask…” Jackhammer started, pale in the face and sweating like a fat man in a sauna, “…why is that thing coming after you?”
“It’s a long story. One I probably can’t tell you now that our maker’s here,” Alexander said as Kreutz gradually approached them. It didn’t immediately killed them; the Comets were like that: pure evil. So evil that they’d prefer squeezing every drop of despair before giving you sweet relief.
“Huh…” Shielder squeaked, fear getting to him.
“Defeat is my legacy but victories gained still, in the honor of Sirius Aethfell, Lord of Many and the Starking. Death in your name is blood in his glory, o’ promised Singularity, he who conquers Wills.” Kreutz moved closer. “Death comes for us, wait not for—“
[Coordinates Registered]
[Marker Acknowledged]
The Superweapon was not in ideal range but they had to try.
Alexander watched as an artillery shell split the sky and left a blue rift in its wake. Unlike Wonder or Ikeya, Kreutz refused to be caught with its pants down. Faster than Alexander could comprehend, the Caller had created a spear by twirling multiple ribbons together into a dangerous point and thrusted it towards the [Spirit Core].
A transparent, rainbow shield was created between their collision. It was like two high-speed trains slamming together head-to-head. Galeforce winds were created. Windows shattered and glass flung everywhere. Debris was snatched off the ground and sent flying. The three men shrieked, raised their arms to protect themselves but got thrown back into the nearest wall, crumpled together.
The shell was held back by the final barrier separating life and death, the needle was protecting its master so it could complete one last mission.
The shell cracked, the needle tore, the barrier breaking.
Alexander felt himself being pushed down onto the ground as he wondered who would be the winner in these last seconds.
Shielder raised a wall.
Jackhammer was yelling something.
The winner was nobody. The shell combusted and the barrier broke and everything became flames.