Now, Manila
Phillip’s nephew roared and leapt.
“Wai—” Tito Carlos tried to grab the young man, but was too slow.
Twenty feet was easy for someone with superhuman strength.
Phillip caught his nephew.
The young man wasn’t strong enough to bother him. Rapid punched and elbows to Phillip’s head didn’t do enough.
Rosalita charged in from the side.
Phillip threw his nephew at her with all his might.
Tito Carlos had been right.
There was no more holding back.
Rosalita tried to stop and catch her nephew.
A loud crunch echoed as the young man slammed into her. The two tumbled back in a heap.
“My back— I can’t feel my legs… Tita… please,” the young man said through grit teeth.
Phillip ignored the second crack as Rosalita violently twisted their nephew’s head.
Tito Carlos rushed in with a lead right jab.
Phillip raised his hands to cover his face.
A mistake.
A left straight to the body made him regret buying his uncle’s feint.
His hands dropped to cover his body.
It was exactly the wrong thing to do.
His uncle cracked a right hook to the side of his face.
Phillip swung wildly as his uncle leaned back and circled around to avoid everything.
“You’ve got too many openings.” Tito Carlos bounced on his toes. “Then again if I was as hard as you, I might not care too much,” he shook his hands loose with a grimace. “It’s been awhile since hitting something hurt me almost as much.”
“You’re pretty quick for pushing 90, but I think I could take your punches all day,” Phillip shook his head. He realized that would be a win of sorts. It’d keep Tito Carlos from going after Eron and the others.
His uncle’s eyes narrowed. “A stalemate means you can’t go jumping to help your son or your friends. The question is… which one of us thinks their side needs them more?”
Phillip exploded forward.
The floor tiles shattered as he pushed himself at his uncle.
His leaping punch was almost a blur that Tito Carlos barely slipped.
The fraction of contact was enough to send the old man stumbling.
Phillip tried to follow up, but was intercepted by Rosalita.
His cousin had thrown herself at him from over 30 feet away.
Phillip was off-balanced and couldn’t resist her tackle.
The two crashed through a shelf loaded with hardware tools.
Rosalita ended up on top.
She slammed her palm on Phillip’s face while grabbing a hammer.
Phillip took her wrist and pried it off his face, only for her to slam the hammer into his forehead.
Boom.
Like a gunshot.
Rosalita was stronger than their niece and nephew.
That had been unpleasant.
Boom. Boom. BOOM!
Crack!
The wooden handle broke before Phillip’s skull did.
Rosalita hammered the jagged end of the handle toward Phillip’s eye.
He caught her wrist with inches to spare.
“This isn’t you, Rosa,” Phillip said.
A pained look flashed across his cousin’s face, but was replaced by one of resignation. “Then you know why you have to win.”
Phillip’s eyes hardened. He squeezed his hands.
Rosalita face twisted as he ground the bones in both of her wrists.
“Hold on, Rosa!” Tito Carlos dived in and added his hands to the jagged handle.
It slipped a fraction of an inch closer to Phillip’s eye before he firmed up.
Family was locked in a struggle with so many lives on the line.
Beads of sweat began to form as one managed to hold off the combined efforts of two.
There was nothing glorious about it in Phillip’s thoughts. If he had one wish it would be to return to the days before the spires had ruined everything.
Not this… hellish existence, where he had to fight and hurt family to prevent them from doing the same to him and his kids.
His boys… his wife, his little girl.
Yes, they had power, but the cost… he didn’t like what they had to bear because of it.
The weight of the world on their shoulders.
The most terrible of monsters.
Things like that changed people.
He couldn’t see or didn’t want to see what they might become if their lives revolved around such things. If their existence, their purpose was simply to fight horrors.
He remembered the saying.
Stare into the abyss…
Phillip stared at the jagged end of the hammer handle. At the twisted faces of his long dead uncle and cousin, trapped in a hell.
He closed his eyes and relaxed.
The wood hit his eyelid as he moved his head to allow it to skip right off.
The move surprised his relatives.
They lost their balance.
Phillip opened his eyes and grabbed his cousin by the throat.
He squeezed hard.
Crunch.
Rosalita’s face turned blue as she tried to gasp like a fish out of water.
Phillip threw her off.
He didn’t want to see her like that. Didn’t want that face to be his last memory of her.
He scrambled to his feet, just in time to take a fist to the face.
His nose broke.
True pain bloomed.
Tito Carlos shook his left hand and switched his stance to orthodox.
Phillip pushed his nose back into place with a grunt. He wiped the blood on his upper lip.
“Don’t blow your nose,” Tito Carlos warned.
“I know,” Phillip said in a voice that sounded muffled in his ears. “Broke your hand?”
“Not a good trade for me,” Tito Carlos shook his head. “That was hard… what you did to Rosa.”
Phillip glanced over at his cousin’s slowly disappearing body.
“That will be the last time the fog entity is going to use her… use all of you.”
“I’d pray you’re right, but I gave up on that bullshit a long time ago.”
“If you don’t have faith in that, then have some in me and my boys.”
Tito Carlos nodded.
Phillip raised his fists.
His uncle came in on a line.
Phillip thought that was too obvious, basic. So, he waited for a feint.
Sure enough, his uncle threw a lazy left jab toward Phillip’s face.
The fact that the fist was already swelling told Phillip that it wasn’t meant to land.
So, he ignored it.
The lightning-quick right cross came in right behind the jab.
Phillip tilted his head down to take it on his forehead.
His uncle grimaced.
Hand bones were small and fragile compared to the skull.
That’s why professional fighters wrapped them and wore gloves.
Being superhumanly durable didn’t make a difference if one was hitting another superhumanly durable person.
Phillip sunk two hooks, one left and one right, into his uncle’s body.
His uncle managed to block one by tucking his arm tight against his body.
The other hit home and Phillip heard a pop, felt a crunch.
His uncle’s face told the story.
A broken rib or two.
“It’s over, Tito,” Phillip pulled back. “You’re better, but it seems that you’re not close enough to me in strength and durability. You’ve got an edge on Eron without his true powers and that’s impressive, but I’m several classes above that.”
Tito Carlos laughed. “Power levels… the kids loved to talk about that. Comparing each other like we were in a stupid cartoon or comic book,” he shook his head. “This is real life and good doesn’t always win over evil… hell, look at all the politicians we used to have… seemed like evil was way ahead anyways.”
“Evil is more real now.”
“Yeah… yeah it is,” Tito Carlos agreed. He raised swollen fists. “Let’s finish it then.”
Phillip stalked forward.
Tito Carlos battered at him with blazing quick hands even though each punch brought a flash of pain across his face. Superhuman physical attributes allowed him to push past the pain from broken hands and ribs.
Phillip landed one to every three he took, but his shots dictated the way the story was told.
His uncle’s face was soon cut, swollen and red. The quintessential hamburger meat.
With one eye shut, Tito Carlos threw everything into an over hand right.
Phillip did same.
The near simultaneous blows created a shockwave that cleared years of dust out of a large radius from the two of them.
Phillip staggered as his vision went dark for a split-second.
Tito Carlos’ head twisted violently with a loud crack.
Phillip watched his uncle fall to the floor.
The tears in his eyes obscured the body as it turned into mist.
The faint sound of a rooster crowing in the distance made him blink.
----------------------------------------
Adrenaline flowed through her body. The hurts and weakness of before were temporarily postponed. It appeared that Hanna had made the right decision in prioritizing passive Skills over active ones. Enhancing her physical attributes had always made more sense. What need did she have for a Quick Cut Skill, when her own skill was at least equal, if not better?
A quick cut.
Parried.
A lunging thrust.
Blocked.
Alien metal clashed against bladed forcefield.
Hanna was hard-pressed trying to counter the shade’s quicker movement. It appeared that the sharp-edged forcefields that lined the outside part of the woman’s arms and extended past her fists like long knives didn’t weigh anything. Which meant the woman didn’t have to deal with the momentum generated by a weapon.
The Threnosh sword was well-balanced, but like any weapon had mass that needed to be accounted for.
The shade thrust her left at Hanna’s head.
She blocked it with her shield while simultaneously aiming a counter cut at the woman’s upper arm, where the forcefield didn’t cover
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The woman respond by dipping her torso down, almost bending over completely at the waist.
Hanna’s blade skimmed just over the woman. She smoothly brought her blade back with a downward cut from the opposite angle as the initial one.
The woman moved quicker and got her right arm up in time to block it.
Hanna’s sword was blown back, almost as if the forcefield had exerted a counter force to the impact despite the fact that the woman hadn’t pushed back. This threw Hanna a fraction off-balance.
The woman responded by slashing at Hanna’s sword arm.
Damage alerts flashed in Hanna’s faceplate.
The forcefield could cut the Threnosh metal.
Hanna whipped her blade back in front of her and forced the woman to back off. She held her sword and shield together as she eyed the woman over the top of the latter. A glance past the woman showed her team in the middle of their own desperate battle with the other shades.
“You need to beat me before you can help them,” the woman said without emotion.
Hanna knew that the woman was right. The problem was that she couldn’t do it quickly. The smart play would’ve been to be defensive. She had the edge in that with her shield and armor. Wait for the woman to tire and exploit an opening at that point to end the fight decisively.
Except, she couldn’t do that.
Her friends needed her help now.
Hanna dashed forward without warning. She punched her shield out in an attempt to conceal the low cut with her blade aimed at the woman’s lead leg.
The woman pushed her forcefield covered arms against Hanna’s shield.
Hanna got her.
Her blade struck—
A flash of bright white light momentarily darkened Hanna’s faceplate.
Her blade rebounded with violence.
She withdrew warily.
The outer side of the woman’s lead leg was now lined with a thin, flat, rectangular panel of translucent white light as on her arms.
The woman feinted with a low slash at Hanna’s lead leg, under her shield.
Hanna saw it for what it was and stepped back.
The woman quickly threw a switch kick at Hanna’s head.
She barely pulled back as the sharp-edged forcefield extended past the woman’s foot.
The woman shuffled forward with a combination of thrusts, slashes and kicks with both legs manifesting forcefields. The asphalt was cut with every step she took.
Hanna blocked and parried, but couldn’t stop everything. Sparks flew as the sharp forcefields struck shield, blade and armor.
Hanna disengaged by pushing out with her shield and bringing her blade in front of her.
The woman pulled back to avoid running into it.
Hanna circled away. She didn’t need the alerts in her faceplate to know that her once-pristine armor and shield had been marked with a handful of cuts.
The woman darted to the left, then the right as she approached like some kind of hyperactive squirrel.
Hanna was ready.
Just as Hanna was about to strike the woman released a pulse of bright from the forcefields on her arms.
The joke was on the woman.
Hanna’s faceplate darkened in an instant, preserving her vision.
Her draw cut caught the woman in the chest, slicing through clothing and flesh.
The woman slapped Hanna’s sword away with her own forcefield blade and staggered back.
The wound was deep. The front of the woman’s clothing was soon awash in red. The woman gasped ragged breathes before stilling herself.
She raised one bladed forcefield to her chest. The white glow intensified as she pressed it to the cut.
Hanna heard the sizzling of flesh.
Somehow, the woman straightened, nodded at Hanna and resumed her stance. As if the debilitating wound wasn’t a concern.
This needs to end, Hanna thought.
“I Cut What I See.”
Hanna slashed her sword horizontally.
Fifteen feet away, the shade’s eyes widened.
The upper half of her body slid forward with a wet sound and thudded on the ground. Everything from the waist down crumpled shortly after.
The Skill she chose after reaching Level 30 from the aswang village duplicated the cutting power of her blade without physical contact. It took a lot out of her. Indeed, she sagged from the instant fatigue that swept through her body. She wasn’t going to be able to do it again any time soon.
Still, it felt like cheating, but was there such a thing with lives on the line?
She decided that there wasn’t.
She turned around.
The shades had their backs to her as they fought against her team.
Hanna took several deep breaths and went to their aid.
They would finish this Quest together, whatever that meant.
----------------------------------------
The fog had thinned enough that Eron could see the bay from his perch atop a skyscraper many blocks away.
Derelict container ships had tangled together to create several artificial islands.
To his left he saw the once-brown waters of the Pasig River flowing into the ocean. That was something marginally good to take away from the spires killing a vast majority of humanity and destroying the systems of society as they knew it.
An unworthy thought.
Eron dismissed it.
He studied the GSIS Building.
The floors appeared to be tiered. Wider at ground floor, progressively smaller as it rose. Like pyramids, if there were a couple crammed together to create irregular shapes. There were several different geometric shapes that Eron could pick out. The only other feature of note was a bronze sculpture affixed to the side of what looked like stylized people reaching or building something.
“Probably the country,” Eron snorted.
All in all it gave him the feel of a government building.
Beyond that he felt nothing else looking at it.
It could’ve been like any number of old, abandoned structures. Filled with dust and monsters, like the rest.
He wished there was something, anything that hinted at the unknown horror that supposedly lurked within.
“I’ll find you and end you,” he muttered.
Eron was about to leap off the skyscraper when a loud crowing startled him and nearly caused him to lose his footing.
“Oh… fuck!”
He located the source of the sound.
An ibingan, the serpentine dragon of myth and legend, had appeared from outside the GSIS Building.
How had he missed it?
It undulated through the air as if it swam through water.
With the fog so thin, he got a good look at its draconic maw opened wide with another roar. Teeth like swords shined as its long tongue darted out, as if tasting the air for him.
This one’s armor-like scales were a muted green on top and a duller yellow along the bottom of its serpentine body.
The one he had fought in the southern part of the country had been mostly blue… and a lot smaller.
“Like a goddamn train.”
Eron dropped down.
The wind whistled in his ears.
He kept his eyes on the rapidly approaching ibingan.
His boots finally hit the ground with a thud, cracking the asphalt. He didn’t waste time. He dashed off down the street.
Maybe he could lose it and get to the senate building without having to fight. It wouldn’t attack once he was inside… probably, maybe, hopefully?
Miles away from Eron. A bus load of people raced north as fast as one young woman could push.
The shades hadn’t attacked once, but they wouldn’t allow themselves to think they were safe. Months of imprisonment in this gray hell had taught all of them, from the oldest woman to the youngest boy, that hope was a dangerous thing. Time and again they had been cruelly reminded of that fact.
“Right turn!” Cherry called down from her perch on top of the bus.
The driver heard her and complied.
She could hear the sounds of sobbing children huddled together inside.
It was… annoying… Yes, that was the word she’d cling to. She didn’t want to call it something else. What the instinctive part deep inside her would’ve said— hunger— not that, never that. Not anymore.
She bared her fangs in a snarl. Thankful that none below could see. She cursed herself. Hadn’t she drank her fill of blood before departing to keep such instincts at bay?
“Jeepney in the left lane! Car in the right! Pile of… garbage in the middle!”
The driver followed Cherry’s instructions admirably. She decided that Edwin deserved a pat on the back or maybe a ruffled head once they escaped the city.
She regarded the thin fog as they rode through it. She wondered if the sun was out. That would be an adjustment after so many months in the gloom. Not that the sun’s rays were harmful to her. Not exactly. Sure, they’d make her very weak, as if she was close to being a normal human, but there were worse things.
“Turn left!” Cherry blinked at what suddenly appeared in the middle of the street. “Stop!”
Too late.
Edwin hit the breaks, but Madalena’s reaction to the lights at the back was never going to be instantaneous. Not to mention how hard it was for even someone with her superhuman strength to pull all that mass and momentum to a stop.
Not what, but who.
Cherry’s enhanced perceptions allowed her to see in good detail what had happened.
As the bus, traveling at around speed limit, slammed into a strangely-armored man before Madalena could stop it.
The man went tumbling down the street, but he had somehow managed to push four other people out of the way first.
Cal came out of the roll, more embarrassed than hurt. The Threnosh armor and his own durability was good enough to take the hit of a moderately fast-moving bus.
Even with the fog, he should’ve seen it coming.
No perception and reaction time boosts without the full power of his mind.
He instinctively reached out with his telepathy to ascertain the threat before he realized that the only thoughts in his head were his own.
The silence was nice, but potentially dangerous.
He eyed the bus.
The teenager driving stared at him with wide eyes.
Confusion and fear from the looks of it.
Most likely a normal human.
The impossibly beautiful woman crouched on top of the bus was a different matter.
Her luscious, silvery hair waved in a non-existent breeze.
Cal found himself falling into her eyes.
It took an immense force of will to remind himself where he had seen that type of hair before, along with the supernatural beauty. Fortunately, years of experience had sharpened his willpower.
Aswang: Gabunan.
He was wary. He didn’t know how a fight would go without his true powers.
“Hey, kid?” Cal waved a hand. “Is everything okay? No one got hurt in there?” he could see other people in the bus along with a strange glow that suffused the interior. Strikingly, the ever-present fog didn’t appear to be inside.
“Uh…” the teenage driver opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
“We should be asking you that,” the aswang said blithely. “You must be Cal Cruces?”
Cal blinked. “Er… I’m not going to confirm or deny that… who’s asking?” he stammered.
The aswang laughed music in his ears.
He cursed inwardly and leaned into his willpower.
“You and you’re brother don’t really look alike at first glance, but when I look into those eyes and long lashes… I see the resemblance,” the aswang said lightly. “You’re also wearing the same armor as Demi and Hanna.” She quirked her head to one side. “A lot more colorful though. Blue and gold, complementary. It works… if comic book superhero is what you’re going for.”
“Ah… nice to meet you, miss…”
“Cherry.”
Cal nodded and smiled. He figured that it was better not to mention that Eron hadn’t said anything about her in his messages.
“It’s actually dark yellow. The gold’s more highlights to accent the separation between the blue and yellow… or so I’ve been told. The painter used Skills, so it’s totally functional more than anything else. That young woman over there couldn’t scratch it with her knife,” he pointed at the blank-faced young woman standing with her three friends at the side of the road.
Cal’s eyes tightened a fraction.
The four people he had met at the sanctuary looked wary. Almost as if they were ready to bolt or fight.
Before he could say anything another young woman emerged from the back of the bus.
From the outside in fact.
Come to think of it, Cal realized that it was eerily quiet. No engine sounds.
He didn’t recognize the young woman. Short black hair, light brown skin, attractive and fit. He supposed she would have to be to push the bus.
Oh, he realized who she was.
His cousin, Madalena.
“What the hell, Cherry! You’re supposed to avoid things—” her eyes widened when she finally noticed Cal. “Cal?”
“Hello, cousin,” he waved.
“Who the hell are these people?” Madalena regarded the foursome.
“You don’t know them? I met them at one of your sanctuaries.”
Madalena scowled. “I know everyone.”
The four slowly began to shift, moving into formation.
Cal sighed. Sometimes it would be better if his instincts were wrong.
“Hold on! Let’s stay cool. The fog might attack at any time.”
“It hasn’t this whole time,” the tall man said. “I think it’s time we went our separate ways.”
“Fine by me,” Cal replied. He could always track them down after he got his powers back. If that was even necessary.
Madalena grunted assent. “Okay, now that your here you can help me push, so we can get everyone out of this mess faster. We still have other sanctuaries to evacuate.”
“Madalena!” the teenage driver called out.
“What, Edwin!”
“That’s them!” The teen’s face was a twisted rictus of rage. “They killed Maricel!”
Madalena’s eyes snapped to the four.
Cal didn’t need his powers to see the fiery anger in her posture, breathing and clenched fists.
“Domeric,” she pointed to the nearly 7-foot tall man, “Samson,” she pointed to the only other man in the group, “Eron killed the other two men,” she eyed the two young women, “Dolorita and Paz. I don’t care which is which. I’m not as strong as Eron, so it’s going to take me more hits to end you.”
Domeric brandished a wooden sword-club nearly as long as Cal was tall.
Even without extrasensory powers, he could feel something building in it.
Magic.
There was no other sensation quite like it.
“Like I told him, that wasn’t personal. It was a matter between warriors. We fight, we kill, we die,” Domeric said coldly.
“Maricel was fifteen. You ended her life like it was nothing. Then you left her out there in the fog. You went to the sanctuary and threatened people under our protection. I don’t see anything redeemable about you,” Madalena ground out.
“Let’s not do this here,” Cal stepped in.
The people in the bus were in danger of becoming collateral damage. Especially, when he had no idea what Domeric’s weapon was capable of.
Paz and Dolorita drew pistols and pointed them at Cal.
“I’m bulletproof without the armor,” he said flatly.
“Bullshit!” Paz snapped.
“Listen, Domeric,” he turned to the tall man. “I’ll give you credit for admitting it, but you killed a kid. This might makes right bullshit isn’t going cut it.”
“And what’re you going to do about it? Put me on trial? Send me to prison? Look around you… besides I don’t recognize your authority. What I do, did, was under the authority of the Senator,” Domeric said with a stone face.
Cal laughed. “The same one north of here?” he said lightly.
“That’s right.” Domeric tilted his head back to better look down on Cal, which considering the foot and half difference in height wasn’t necessary.
“Your brother, was it? This Eron?” Samson chimed in.
“Yeah.”
“He killed the Senator’s son. There’ll be repercussions for that. However, if you allow us safe passage on your bus then maybe that can mitigate things to some extent. We can frame it as a misunderstanding. The heat of battle and all that,” Samson continued.
“Actually… no. We came from up north, all the way from Ilagan. Drove through your territory. Found that it had a slavery problem. Took care of that,” Cal’s gaze hardened, “violently.” He regarded Madalena. “They killed one of yours. I can’t, won’t dictate what to do with them. I’ll help you subdue them… after that you can do what you want. Although, I’d warn against summary execution. That isn’t something you should take lightly.”
“Thanks, but I won’t need your help,” Madalena said right before she leapt.
“Samson!” Domeric cried.
“Flashbang!”
A bright flash of white light and a loud bang erupted out of the young man’s outstretched hand.
Cal saw it all through a darkened faceplate as the auditory protections in his helmet automatically dulled the noise.
Somehow the four hadn’t been affected by the spell.
Madalena stumbled as she turned her head away.
Domeric stepped in with a mighty swing of his sword-club to Madalena’s stomach.
The impact echoed like a cannon and sent Madalena flying into the side of the bus.
Screams of fright filled the air as the four took the opportunity to flee off the road and into an alley.
Cal rushed to Madalena’s side as the light waned and vanished.
“Where are they?” Madalena struggled in Cal’s grasp.
He was surprised by her strength. Almost on his level.
“Gone.”
“Why didn’t you stop them!” Madalena snapped as she frantically blinked.
“We’ve got more important things to deal with. Besides, you know where they’ll head assuming they can get out of this fog without whatever that glowing thing you got in there keeping it out.”
Madalena cursed as he let her go.
“So, what happened? My dad and the people that came with us from America went into the city. Did they make it to you guys?” Cal dreaded the answer.
“Yeah…” Madalena relayed a hurried story that ended with the breaching of the main sanctuary and the desperate flight for freedom. “I don’t know what happened after we left.”
Cal thought quickly.
Confirmation on some of things he had seen in those strange dreams was good. The rest… not so much.
“Cal,” Cherry called down from the bus’ roof. “You should go inside. Someone wants to talk to you.”