“...I’m surprised the ‘structs haven’t ran out of power yet,” Blackviper commented leisurely as Vernon heard an onslaught of damage both from the call and outside. Yeah, they were still stuck inside the SMVs, watching as the canopy's health dropped decimal-by-decimal.
Blackviper was experiencing the worst of it as she fell on the other side of the street—several of the convoy’s vehicles separated the two SMVs—resulting in getting blasted by two constructs. They must’ve known she was riding in it, otherwise they wouldn’t focus so much fire on this one thing.
Kaiya sighed, having calmed down a little bit but she was still sort of frazzled. Well, anyone would be if they were taking concentrated fire. “Aren’t you under twenty percent now, Blackviper?”
“Mhm. I’m not afraid of dying if you're asking,” she answered and judging from Kaiya’s expression, she was spot on.
Vernon was, honestly. He had people who’d miss him: Mom, Dad, Mark, Rose too; and especially his own team. The past week had been literal Hell but he never felt a place more belonging than going through Hell with others, comrades. So this was the camaraderie that he'd seen within Royals, throughout Slayers across the world. He had underestimated the gravity of such a thing and now would gladly take a bullet for these people.
He was afraid, yes, but some things were greater than fear.
“...Did you have people back there?” he asked Blackviper, his voice somber. “In your old world?”
Blackviper didn’t immediately respond. Although he couldn’t see her, he felt a sudden onset of second-hand grief, tempered by the constructs’ fire. She said, “Not anymore. Friends were easy to come by but opportunities were easier—life was cheap. You lived or you died by your own iron.”
“Sounds like a crappy place to live.”
“I guess so. The paranoia and greed got the better of who was supposed to be the cooler heads and fucked the world over.”
People like her made Vernon grateful for his privileged life, having grown up in a world that knew no wars other than the otherworldly threats. Peace was something he knew instinctively; war was what Blackviper knew, everyday at every moment.
Now he was getting a taste of it. Fun.
Suddenly, Rogue-2 stopped firing on them. It was honestly eerie how it stopped. No more awful banging or moving with the rocking SMV, like removing an irritant. Of course not all of the sensations stopped considering Blackviper was not even ten seconds away.
“SMV-2,” called Victor through the System, “FM’s gonna give you guys some concealment so you can duck into the building. Althea will be at the door so make sure you spot her.”
Just as he said that, Althea appeared across the sidewalk, standing at the entrance of some building, waving at him and Kaiya. Chunhua was there too, and Vernon heard Kaiya mutter something in relief.
Blackviper chuckled, a smile in her voice. “Good work. Get SMV-2 out and see if you can find a way of neutralizing Rogue-1 and 3 for me. I prefer coming out without needing to do repairs afterwards.”
“I’ll get the shield,” volunteered Vernon, climbing his way to the main console and pressed the right buttons to open the final prompt: the prompt that would deactivate the shield. “Show me when, Chunhua.”
Chunhua inhaled and outstretched her hand. In the night intermittently illuminated and booming like fireworks, leaves came and shrouded the immediate area, concealing the SMV. Vernon pressed the button and the shield deactivated.
“Woah!” But there was one thing they didn’t account for: the shield was also propping the SMV up. As soon as it dropped, the SMV would’ve turned over but Kaiya managed to catch it with her telekinesis.
“I have it! Go in first!” she cried, gritting her teeth as the SMV took on a psionic hue.
“Thanks!” Vernon didn’t wait to see if the constructs would fire upon them. He sprinted as fast as he could, seeing Althea through the gaps between the leaves and making it home-free.
Moments later, Kaiya came through. The concealment faded and Chunhua reappeared, sweaty but active.
Althea took them to the back where Victor was waiting by the stairs.
He prompted, “Any ideas on how to take out R1 and 3? They’re squatting at the same place; just need to find a way to cross the street without getting lit the fuck up.”
Vernon glanced in the direction of the enemy groups. “Honestly? I can prolly shoot the constructs directly. I dunno what’ll happen but if Chunhua can do the thing she did earlier, you’ll might get enough time to head over.”
“All we need is to free BV,” Kaiya stated, confident. “Once she’s in play, we win.”
Victor clapped. “Sounds like a good idea to me. You’ll be okay by yourself, Vernon?”
“Yup.”
Everyone but Vernon remained on the ground floor; he went to the third level and found the aftermath of Rogue-2. Three rogues had been here: corpses. One had his neck cut open, one was riddled with at least one hundred cuts, and finally the last one had a hole in her chest.
Gnarly.
He found Rogue-2, the construct, and pushed it over, taking its position at the window. “Alright…”
[Skill Activation: Perch]
[All stats have been increased by 1!]
[Perch] was a weak demesne that Vernon possessed, increasing all his stats by one and would notify him if any unregistered individuals entered. That was the extent of the demesne; a meager, standard effect especially compared to his brother’s, [Cloudchase], but this would do. The entire floor was his invisible, shoddy realm.
He equipped his [Energy Rifle], tapping the [Multi-Functional Magick Chamber] as if to reassure himself. The [Magick Chamber] modified his rifle to adopt three firing modes on a spectrum, and he wanted the one that packed the most power—the original mode: bolt.
Unfortunately he didn’t have [Close Eye] which could magnify his vision up to 3x, so he had to do things the old fashioned way: looking through the scope; however, while he lacked [Close Eye], he did have [Eye in the Sky], allowing him to mark up to three targets that his party could see.
Rogue-1 and 3 were on the same floor, and through the scope, enemies were spotted.
[Skill Activation: Eye in the Sky]
Three were marked with a silver outline, visible through all barriers. That was one worry down; he had suspected that, since the rogues possessed high-quality constructs, then they may also hold equipment with magical resistance properties which could neutralize [Eye in the Sky]. That wasn’t the case.
Vernon called it in: “You guys see that?”
Victor responded, “Crystal. Good shit, man!”
“There’s a bunch more already. More than you probably faced before.” He frowned. “Like, I count at least six.”
He moved onto Rogue-1, the gatling gun he saw when his SMV came down. There had been a man standing behind the construct; his wrathful expression burned into Vernon’s mind. As if in response, rage pumped into Vernon like a warm drink on a cold night. He didn’t need to destroy the construct, just knock it down.
Knock it the hell down.
“Firing,” Vernon warned, his voice cold.
The [Energy Rifle] was charged to its maximum. The target was sighted. Vernon pulled the trigger, smooth and easy just as he did hundreds—if not thousands—of times before in more dangerous circumstances.
Rogue-1 was knocked over. His shoulder stung a bit. Rogues panicked.
“R1 is down, dunno if it’s out. Rogues are moving,” he told them.
Rogue-3 was next: a cannon-like construct but it fired like a machine gun. This design sounded good on paper but it must’ve used mana like nothing else; they must’ve brought a large quantity of batteries.
Same as the first, then. He fired and knocked down the second construct.
“They're down,” he said into the call. “Watch where you’re hitting. The floor prolly has mana batteries and those things are explosive.”
Chunhua didn’t even need to use her concealment technique as the Baptist-1 sprinted across the street and seized the target building.
Blackviper hopped high out of the SMV, landed on its side, turned and gave Vernon a quick finger salute before joining the other Baptists.
Vernon sighed and stood. “Easy as that—“
[Alert: An unregistered individual has entered.]
[Alert: An unregistered individual has entered.]
“Huh—?!”
A bullet cracked into the floor five meters behind him, leaving a faint trail that smelt of acid. A second bullet zipped by his left and cracked the air like a miniature thunderbolt.
Vernon dove behind a corner, flinching and crawling towards solid cover as bullets ripped through the interior, cursing when a couple popped holes inches away from him and causing him to slither deeper hoping nothing would hit him.
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Acid-smelling rounds, he recognized that foul stench from anywhere: spell-infused bullets (colloquially known as “spells”). Your best shot, literally, at ripping through magical defenses like butter; for their stopping power, they were also difficult to manufacture and thus hard to come by. Just how in the world did rogues get their grubby hands on them?
These bullets could take down S-Rank equipment under the right circumstances. His [Red Barrier Brooch] provided nothing in the way of defense.
A man screamed over the gunfire, something about a motherfucker. Vernon tensed up, fiddling with the [Magick Chamber]. It took a hot moment but he set the firing mode in-between the automatic and splitter function.
Vernon waited tensely as the spells came. Tearing, popping, ripping and shredding everything in their path.
Until they stopped.
Fiercely, he emerged from the corner and aimed at the rogues’ general direction. Without hesitation, without thinking, he held down the trigger and fought against the recoil. Having his [Energy Rifle] set between automatic and splitter meant this: his rifle sprayed what it felt like an endless sea of splintered energy bolts.
It was impossible to tell what he was hitting. Literally, it’d be most accurate to say “fuck everything in that direction”.
Only when Vernon saw red mist did he stop. About ten meters away was a man folded over on the floor, more blood than human. Behind him was another man laying on his side, dragging his broken self to the stairs, leaving a trail of fresh blood in his crawl, his legs shot through and twisted.
“HEY!” shouted Vernon, surprising himself at the anger in his own voice, and ran over, aiming at the last remaining rogue.
The man froze, petrified, staring down the hot barrel of death that had obliterated his friend moments prior. “Wait wait wait!” He raised his hands. “I’m sorry—don’t shoot, don’t fucking shoot—I’m sorry, okay! Don’t fuckin’ shoot!”
Vernon’s finger curled around the trigger but against his better judgement, he began to lower his rifle—
A bullet rushed past him.
The Apocalyptic was put down, his pistol dramatically dropping to the floor, bouncing to the staircase and squeezing between the railings, tumbling, tumbling down until Vernon couldn’t hear it anymore.
“...Apocs,” Vernon reminded himself, “...these guys aren’t human.”
An explosion caught his attention. Across the street exactly the building Baptist-1 was in, and exactly the floor where the rogues were. Smoke oozed from the windows. The System didn’t notify him that anyone was incapacitated or deceased. Thank goodness for that.
Vernon checked in, “What happened?”
Blackviper answered, “One of the rogues trapped himself in a side room with the mana batteries you mentioned. I shot one through the walls. We’re clean here.”
“Good. I, uh…” He sighed. “...I think I found the rest of Rogue-2. Two tried sneaking up on me but I took care of ‘em. They're dead.”
“Huh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Regroup with us on the main street,” Blackviper ordered. “I haven’t heard back from Baptist-2 since they left for Rogue-7.”
~~~
“Alex here—me and Leo are alright. I got your intel, BV. We’ll take care of R8 with a few Duskheads and see where it goes from there,” Alexander said into the call shortly after the ambush had taken place.
It’d been real dangerous trying to escape without getting ripped to shreds by the constructs shooting down at them. Must’ve been decently-ranked considering they were able to damage Ordoian steel—these things were designed to take a beating, both physically and magically. With a smoke grenade thrown by one of the Duskheads, they fled into a lobby relatively safe and sound.
Alexander himself, Leona, Kirk, and the team they had been riding with: Corporal Kriska, Private First Class Trevino and Babin, and Private Locklin. Unfortunately the driver had been killed in the ambush.
According to what Blackviper relayed, nine rogue constructs were detected in the ambush with each probably being guarded by rogues. Baptist-1 were going to deal with Rogue-4 and 2 to rescue the people inside the SMVs and get Blackviper in the field, so you might as well add Rogue-1 and 3 to the list.
Duskheads were taking care of Rogue-5, 6, and 9, which left Rogue-7 and 8 to Baptist-2 and the others.
So immediately when Alexander received the intel from Blackviper, there was only one thing left to do: rogue-hunting. Ironically enough, this was the one thing he feared before Alba was sent to Grendel Arsenal. Killing monsters and killing people were two very different things, but strangely enough he was reassured in his team’s capability.
When the chips were down, they had proven time and time again that they would meet what was expected of them. They had gone through ten hours of continuous, hard combat, against fiercer foes and in worse conditions. Something like this, as he soon realized, was hardly an issue to be concerned about.
It wasn’t like Hangzhou, because here they were in power.
[Skill Activation: Fable of the Celestial War Empress - Red Banner]
Leona’s [Ornate Jikdo] tore through a rogue’s extended left arm, severed it cleanly at the elbow, and continued across into his chest. Blood splattered onto the floorboards. He gasped, stumbling back still conscious from the shock and adrenaline, before the blade broke through his armor and deep into his torso.
It took several kicks for Leona to pull her sword from the dropping man.
Yeah, there was nothing to be worried about at all. Right now, at least.
Alexander stared at his partner for a moment, equal parts proud and self-reflective until a second rogue thought to capitalize, charging at her wielding a handaxe with glowing runes etched into the blade.
The rogue couldn’t make it five steps before a hand darted out to nab his back collar and yanked him back with the might of God. Promptly thrown against a pillar. Got two bullets to the head—double tap, something Alexander often did whenever he wanted to make sure a troublesome monster was dead dead.
“FUCK YOU!” cried a woman, bursting from a room with a shotgun in her hands.
[Skill Activation: Certain Shot]
She was dead before she pulled the trigger.
A fourth rogue appeared out of the blue with a shortsword in hand, foolishly targeting Leona first. Their exchange was nimble and changing, making it impossible for Alexander to have a good shot but he didn’t need to.
Leona was the superior fighter. She effortlessly parried the coming, sloppy attacks—even Alexander was a better swordsman than the rogue—and with a single, swift motion, her [Ornate Jikdo] came down on the rogue’s right wrist.
He howled as his hand dropped alongside his blade. The rogue scrambled back until he hit a wall, but by then he had nowhere to go, nowhere to run off to.
Alexander kept an eye for any other rogues but kept the other on what was happening. While he’d outright shoot the man, he wanted to see what Leona would do, when faced with an Apocalyptic who had no obvious means of fighting back.
With an irritated huff, she cut him down and stabbed him in the back once fallen, to make sure he was dead. Leona wiped the bloody blade in the nook of her arms.
“All good?” he asked her, hiding the concern in his voice.
She nodded. “All good, Alex.”
“Alright.”
Alexander looked around the room with his service pistol out—magazine half-empty, he counted his shots. Four rogues all killed without much effort, slain as though they were your typical goblins. They didn’t even need Kirk and the others. [Certain Shot] and [Hwaseong Artes] made things easy. Disturbingly easy.
That was the benefit of having superior skills, then.
He scanned every nook and cranny of the place, taking careful steps towards Rogue-8 with Leona automatically following. The floor creaked, the clock ticked, and outside was still a war going on. They had to kill the enemy forces as soon as possible.
“I think we’re clear,” Leona told him, easing her posture slightly but still alert.
“I hope so. I’ll get the ‘struct.” He holstered his pistol and approached Rogue-8: a construct that had three rotating guns. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this other than the fact that it dealt a lot of damage and it had to be taken out.
[Skill Activation: 50% Mana Impact Strike]
With a single, powerful punch, Rogue-8’s body was dented in. The guns sputtered, their constant stream of fire decreasing like gradually turning off the sink. Another [Mana Impact Strike] officially put it out of commission.
“BV,” Alexander called it in as him and Leona hurried back to the stairs, “Rogue-8 is taken care of. How’s Baptist-1 doing?”
“Just cleared Rogue-4,” she responded. “There’s something strange with Rogue-7. I tried viewing it with [Night Assassins Vision] but it comes up blurry. I suspect magical interference. Practice necessary caution and call for reinforcements if you need to. The rogues’ gear is more dangerous than they are.”
“Roger that.” He cocked his head at Leona, who heard the same thing. “Let's move.”
At the bottom of the stairs was Kirk and the rest of the Duskheads; they had cleared the rest of the building and established a security perimeter while the Baptists took care of the construct. Looked like they experienced no trouble.
Kirk was the first to spot them, smiling when he saw the pair come down triumphant and victorious. “Slain?”
Alexander affirmed, “Slain.”
“Yup-yup. Duskheads, we’re moving to Rogue-7!” ordered Kirk, his voice high and proud, the kind to induce the same enthusiasm in his men.
The Duskheads responded positively and the entire team filtered out the back—the destination was a few buildings down. The Baptists plus Kirk led the way with the soldiers following behind, chugging along through the urban environment, watching for possible threats that could be lurking behind corners or obstructions.
When they reached the target building, it looked to be a restaurant or a bar. Whatever it was, the back area was an open lot that had been used for seating. Said seating was scattered and toppled over. Other than that, they couldn't see shit. No power meant no light. No light meant fuck-all for visibility.
Alexander held up a hand and kneeled behind a concrete barrier at the entrance of the open lot. The others followed suit.
He swore under his breath, cursed himself for not buying any night vision potions. Any physical light source would reveal their position; however, he obtained the information he wanted: there wasn’t any visual anomalies with Rogue-7. It looked normal. As normal as an abandoned, apocalyptic dining establishment.
“BV said there’s magical interference in the area that’s messing with her observation skill. Whatever’s doing it, I can’t see it,” Alexander told them, scanning the back area but finding nothing of note, mentally tallying the number of possible locations of concealment.
“Why would they put something here of all places?” asked Private Locklin, which was actually an excellent point. Why would they put a magical interference device in Rogue-7 and not Rogue-1 through 3 with the S-Rank and SMVs?
“Whatever’s the method, I found the back door,” Kirk stated, looking through his rifle’s scope which was propped on the barrier. He pointed. About twenty-five or so meters out, there it was hiding in the dark. Shut tight.
“Mhm.” Leona scanned the area too but didn’t find anything like Alexander. “We ought to be careful. Are there any alternative entry points?”
“It’s the only option we got unless you think the front door’s better, or we go in through the windows,” said Alexander, and he waited a second to see if anyone agreed. No one argued otherwise so that was the plan: sprinting to the back door in the dead of artificial night. An admittedly shitty plan but they didn’t have as many tools compared to Forest Master or Blackviper.
Kirk sat against the barrier, turning to Alexander expectantly. “So how are we doing this, Baptist?”
Alexander glanced at the door and formulated an entry-plan within moments. He detailed, “Me and Leo will go in first and secure our way in. Kirk, you’ll stay put and make sure your people get there safely.”
“What happens if there’s rogues on the other side?” asked Corporal Kriska.
“Then we’ll run out and you got yourself a shooting gallery.” Alexander chuckled after saying that.
“Sounds as good as a plan as any,” said Kirk, turning to his Duskheads, specifically Trevino and Babin who were itching to move. “Hey—”
[Skill Activation]
Everyone turned to the skies and witnessed a golden white magic circle that was reminiscent of divine wrath. Containing complex geometry and movement like the inner workings of a machine. Rotating, spinning, faster and faster and faster. At first it contained the area of a parking space then grew, the power growing in intensity before the area was large enough to encompass them all.
The magical interference wasn’t caused by a thing.
Alexander screamed to move.
[Divine Magic Circle - Righteous Indignation]