“Stupidass fool alien motherfucker!”
Alcaestus was surprised to find that an Earth human had crashed through the front of the building a few paces behind him.
A spray of bullets bounced off his upraised arm.
Not all flesheaters fought with claws and teeth.
“Ah! But, I see that you’ve followed me!” He smiled.
“I ain’t about to let no skirt-wearing, white-skinned, purple-haired motherfucker take the best rewards. We’ve bled for this and you ain’t gonna steal it from us at the finish line.”
“Fear not, my ebon-skinned ally. There will be plenty for all… as determined by our contributions to the collective cause.”
The dark-skinned man possessed great strength within his muscular body.
He was a large, though he looked like a child next to Al.
Strangely, he didn’t wear any armor, just simple clothing common to the world.
Tan-colored pants and a gray shirt that were already partially torn and burned from the fighting. Damage which didn’t appear on his unblemished flesh aside from dark smudges from soot and the blood of his enemies.
A flesheater fireball exploded against the side of the man’s head.
His curse was swallowed by the sound and smoke.
They had barged right into a kill zone.
Flesheaters fired from the floor above and the two sets of stairs against both far walls. As well as from both left and right corridors.
Furniture had been piled in great, thick barricades to bar the way.
Scintillating arrows of magic light drew pinpricks of blood from Al’s flesh.
He held a hand over his eyes to ward against the stinging light.
“Get behind me!”
“Fuck off—”
Al raised a clench fist.
He pulled.
The lightest objects came to him first.
Weapons ripped out of flesheater hands.
At least for those smart enough to let go.
As for the ones that didn’t?
They crashed into Al’s crushing embrace.
“A little warning next time, motherfucker!” the dark-skinned man snapped.
He had almost been pulled before he was able to dig his boots into the floor.
“I shall face the leaders.” Al gazed up at the disarmed flesheaters on the stairs and the upper floor. “You may take care of the ones remaining here.” He gestured to those to the left and right.
“Hell naw, alien fuck! I told you I ain’t about to let you screw us over. My guys can take care of the ones on this floor.”
Atlanta soldiers entered the building without a problem since Al and the dark-skinned man had drawn fire.
The dark-skinned man gestured left and right.
His soldiers advanced, using the walls as cover to pour fire at the flesheaters.
“Fuck this!”
The dark-skinned man hurled a dead flesheater through the left barricade and then the right, clearing the way for his soldiers.
“Suppression Fire!”
“Chain Lightning!”
“Force Explosion!”
A Skill to force the flesheaters to cease firing.
Spells to finish them.
The soldiers rushed down both corridors firing their projectile weapons and spells, using Skills to deal death.
The flesheaters fought back despite their weakened condition with their own spells and Skills backed by the desperate savagery of wounded and cornered animals.
Al was pleased for his allies.
The fierce battle would lead to levels and the experience they gained would serve them well in future battles.
A behemoth flesheater leapt with a roar.
The dark-skinned man reacted quicker than Al.
He met the monstrous man with a leaping uppercut that boomed across the interior of the building, shattering every window.
Al frowned.
The Americans’ assessment of the great southern thorn in their side was lacking.
He could tell that the dark-skinned man was much stronger and faster than his allies had claimed.
Much stronger than him from a physical perspective, though that didn’t account for the other divine gifts he had received from his God.
The dark-skinned man battered the behemoth flesheater into a bloody smear while Al cast a minor spell of appraisal.
As expected… nothing… the man was too powerful for Al’s admittedly weaker magical ability.
Perhaps, he could arrange for the Eidolon of Ekra to take a look.
The dark-skinned man stood ankle deep in gore, glaring at Al.
Red wet was splattered all over his front. It covered his arms up to the elbow, dripping from his fingers.
“You just gonna stand there holding your d—” His eyes widened.
Al turned just in time to watch a wave of water crash through the front of the building.
The little princess and her guards surfed in its wake.
The wave crashed against his knees, threatening to sweep him off his feet.
“Y’all crazy motherfuckers! Even the damn little girls!” The dark-skinned man slipped and was swept deeper into the building in a churning mass of reddened water.
The spell-casting flesheaters turned their fire toward the new arrivals.
Cerulean-scaled shields and armor deflected the magic.
That removed any doubts that Al may have yet harbored.
He had sensed the inherent magical nature of their equipment, but seeing them in action confirmed it.
On a whim he tried his appraisal spell again.
Nothing on the princess.
However, turning his eye on her captain yielded more.
Young.
Level 30.
Lower than he would’ve expected.
More along the level of a veteran soldier. One of many. Not part of a small elite guard.
He only saw a few of her abilities.
They seemed quite good for her level.
She used one with a slash of her poleaxe, sending a cutting arc of wind up the right staircase.
Flesheaters recoiled with deep gashes across their bodies and sliced fingers.
“Dragon Leap!”
Cerulean armored young men and women soared up the stairs.
“Dragon Dive!”
Spears, polearms and swords plunged into flesh like talons into prey.
All the while the princess stood, watching proudly.
“They are well-matched for this.”
Al was content to watch with the princess.
Her guard held the advantage with their superior equipment.
The flesheaters were weak, starving, far from their prime capability.
“But, I sense there are much stronger enemies deeper inside.”
“I know that!” she snapped. “Kayla! Jayce! Don’t pursue!”
The captain had led the way up the left staircase, while the other, a young man was at the front of the assault up the right.
“Fall back on me!” the princess barked.
Huh?
Not here for experience or show at all then.
Her elite guard dispatched the last remaining flesheaters.
The rest had fled into the building.
Armor the colors of the ocean was marred with glistening red.
Weapons of tooth, claw and spine were slicked with the same gore.
He couldn’t see much of their expressions behind their full-faced helms, but their wide eyes told of youth and inexperience when it came to the truth of battle against other thinking beings.
Killing a face you might see in the mirror was different from fighting monsters.
The flesheaters leaned more to the latter, but one could still see the echoes of the men and women they had once been.
“Well done, young warriors!” He smiled. “A valiant and triumphant effort! You should be proud of this day! Now, I bid you hold this ground!”
“You don’t give us orders,” the young captain said. “Pr— Princess, we’re ready to continue.”
“No, my captain. What remains is yet beyond your capabilities. Not today, but tomorrow. Wait outside for my triumphant return!” She shot a glare at Al.
The princess spoke with weight and gravitas beyond her youthful appearance and high-pitched voice.
She didn’t speak like the other young people Al had observed on this world.
He attributed the strangeness to her dragon-related class.
“Don’t get in my way, lumbering ogre.” She drew a gleaming steel sword taller than her and leapt up to the second floor with a single bound.
Odd that she wielded a mundane weapon in comparison to that of the her guards.
“Too many weirdass motherfuckers up in this shit.” The dark-skinned man returned, splashing through ankle high water. He spat and sputtered. “Why the fuck is this shit salty, huh? We ain’t nowhere near the ocean.”
“A spell or a Skill.”
This truly was a world new to the spires if its people still displayed incredulity at common sights.
The dark-skinned man muttered curses under his breath.
“Aliens, weird little girls…”
He leapt after said little girl.
Al followed.
The seat of government was small. More akin to a wealthy mansion. Smaller than he’d expect for a town of this size.
The sounds of battle erupted from deeper in the building.
Snarls mingled with high-pitched battle cries. Followed by the wet sounds of a blade carving through flesh.
They came across dismembered bodies as they picked up the pace.
Yet they could never seem to catch up.
The bloody trail led to another set of stairs at the rear of the building.
A gaping hole in the wall greeted them.
Down below in the tall grass was half a flesheater.
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“Other half’s down there.” The dark-skinned man pointed to the bottom of the stairs. “I’m thinking I should worry about that little girl more than you, alien-looking motherfucker.”
“Please cease with your insulting term. I understand that the universal translation system isn’t perfect, but be aware that I was an orphan and I never knew my mother. Even if I had, there would have been no carnal relations.”
The dark-skinned man raised a brow.
“Man, I’d hope so. Never know what weirdass shit you aliens get up to. For all I know, that incest shit is normal for you fuckers.”
“That is inaccurate and I am not alien, as you call it. I’m human as you are. Just from a different world.”
“Bullshit. I ain’t buying your alien lies.”
The dark-skinned man gestured to the hole.
“You think any of them cannibal shits took off? They can move quick.”
Al scanned the tall grass all the way to the street and structures a few hundred meters away.
“I see no tracks. The grass remains undisturbed.”
“Good eyes, huh?”
“I’m a hunter.”
“Aight. Up the stairs then.”
Al nodded.
“Yo, hold up. Figure that girl’s gonna kill them all at this rate.”
“She does seem to be quick and efficient with her kills, if brutal.”
“You ain’t too dumb for an alien fucker. Won’t keep up at this rate and we’re wasting time talking so—”
The dark-skinned man grabbed Al’s arm and threw him through the hole.
“Ain’t personal just business.”
Al caught the dark-skinned man jumping straight up through the ceiling before he crashed through several buildings a good distance away.
“That was dishonorable.”
And pointless.
The dark-skinned man stole a march worth seconds as Al leapt the instant he got his legs under him.
He soared through the night sky, admiring the flashes of many colored lights amidst the sounds of distant battle.
The building loomed quickly.
He crashed through the roof and found himself in the middle of a brutal fight.
Flesheaters clashed with the Richellian princess and the dark-skinned man.
Appraisal showed that none of the monstrous humans were below Level 35.
It showed in the quality of their transformations.
The more complete and gruesome their forms the greater the level, the greater the power.
This was a truism of most transformation classes.
Al wouldn’t recommend bringing a two-handed grandsword into an enclosed battlefield.
One needed space for the massive blade’s sweeping swings.
It was impossible to avoid getting the blade stuck in walls, ceilings and sundry obstacles.
Of course, what was a rule for a normal fighter didn’t apply when other factors, such as overwhelming physical strength could be brought to bear.
The princess attacked with a mighty overhead slash that cut through the ceiling like it had been made out of wet paper. Blood-stained steel carved through a dodging flesheater’s shoulder, severing the arm.
The blade sank into the floor, but she reversed the cut and nearly bisected the flesheater across his chest on the diagonal.
Dark blood sprayed the princess.
The severed arm flopped around, then suddenly struck for her helmed face like a viper.
She caught the clawed hand around the wrist.
The flesheater, torso flapping like a sheet on a drying line, blurred into a Skill-powered lunge.
With only one hand on her massive sword she flicked her wrist.
Head separated from body with a great gout of blood.
She must’ve had Skills or the sheer strength to compensate for the huge blade’s momentum because her swings didn’t pull her small, lithe body around. Rather, she wielded the thick blade like a thin rapier.
The fight didn’t end there.
The severed arm continued to writhe like a serpent.
The head’s distended jaw bit at the princess’ armored boot.
The body lashed out.
One. Two. Three.
She hurled the arm into the mouth of another charging flesheater like a cannonball. She kicked the head into the back of another that had jaws around the back of the dark-skinned man’s head. She cut the body in twain from neck to groin.
Economy of motion with smoothness beyond her apparent age.
The princess fought like a warrior with decades of experience.
“I am disappointed!” she roared. “Where is the fearsome Meat Parade that sends terror coursing through my citizens? Where is the nightmare that plagues them to this day? At least give me a challenge before I claim vengeance on their behalf!” She leapt on a flesheater, pinning it to the floor with her blade like a boar on a spear.
Nearby, the dark-skinned man was surrounded.
Piled upon like a trihorn that had wandered into the territory of a starving pack of Laughing Gnashers.
Unlike the trihorn, his skin proved impervious to razor teeth and claws.
His ebon fist plunged into a flesheater’s mouth that had suddenly grown to three times its size in a the blink of an eye.
Teeth chomped down with a Skill that had allowed the woman to bite through steel plate as if it had been made out of a crunchy pastry.
Teeth broke on the dark-skinned man’s muscular arm.
He ripped his fist out of her ruined mouth with a long, wriggling red thing that dripped gore in his grasp.
Another flesheater clawed at the dark-skinned man’s bare chest and stomach with such speed and ferocity that his clawed hands left afterimages even in Al’s divinely-enhanced eyes.
The frenzied attack only slowed when the flesheater’s claws tore from his very fingers.
The dark-skinned man grabbed the flesheater’s head, squeezing until he crushed it like an overripe fruit.
Flesheaters gnawed at his other arm and on both legs.
The one on his back continued to work on his head.
With a curse he plunged already gore-soaked fingers into that flesheater’s eyes, popping them like grapes. He hooked his fingers into the sockets and pulled the flesheater over his head, slamming her into the floor with so much strength that he sent her down through to the lower level.
He shook the one on his left leg off like the monstrous man was a yapping dog.
“Here, you alien fuck!” the dark-skinned man called out. “Don’t say I ain’t given you nothing.” He kicked the flesheater at Al
Al grabbed the wriggling flesheater and tore him in half at the waist.
The monstrous man clung to life, determined to have one last bite.
Teeth failed to penetrate the skin on Al’s hand.
“I free you from your horrific existence.” He crushed the once human man’s head.
Much quicker and more comprehensive than how the dark-skinned man had crushed the other’s head, if Al was asked to give an unbiased comparison.
“You threw me.” Al stalked forward.
A flesheater leapt down from a shadowy corner of the ceiling like a Gloom Panther.
Al’s fist sent it flying threw several walls.
The dark-skinned man pulled the head off the flesheater gnawing on his arm.
“Like I told you, that was just business. Now that you’re here, I ain’t about to do something stupid. This shit is important, so don’t be thinking on getting back some skin on me, you hear me, alien fucker?”
“You beg for alliance, now?”
The dark-skinned man snapped the neck of the flesheater gnawing on his leg.
“I ain’t ever begged. Even when them slavers had me in chains and was ripping my back up with their whips.”
His shirt had been torn completely off by flesheater claws and teeth.
Al saw them for the first time.
The man’s ebon back bulged with muscle, but was marred by a patchwork of scars.
He recognized the tracks left by the lash.
“Raaarrrgghh!”
The princess leapt in, spearing a flesheater before it could pounce upon the dark-skinned man.
“You were enslaved by the nation that I took?” She regarded him with a haughty look.
Chin raised as though she was still looking down her nose at him, despite him towering over her.
Human royalty across worlds and cultures shared so many similarities.
“Naw, that was way before them N.A.R. shits. It was right after the spires popped up. Government, police, army, every white motherfucker swept me and mine up. Made them bleed though. And we got the last laugh. So,” he glared at Al, “that’s why we ain’t ever going back to the way things was. You make that clear to those racists fucks you joined up with, alien fucker.”
“Such grudges must be avenged,” the princess nodded.
Deep wounds.
Al saw them clearly.
He had seen many of the like through his travels.
The dark-skinned man would fight against the dying light to never see those dark days return.
The floor erupted beneath their feet.
Clawed hands pulled the princess down.
The dark-skinned man dived, but missed her.
Al flared Adras’ divine gift pulling everything toward him.
The princess cursed, kicking at the hands while the dark-skinned man managed to snatch the back of her plate.
“Cut that shit off!” he snapped.
Al released the power.
He leapt over the other two and plunged into the darkness below.
The room had no windows, but he saw things as the jungle predator did.
A handful of flesheaters.
It was time that he stole a march.
He pulled them to him with a raised fist.
Teeth and claws scratched at his skin, some managing to draw pinpricks and thin trails of burnished blood.
Like the dark-skinned man, Al didn’t need weapons nor armor for enemies of this level.
He’d meet them bare armed while wearing a simple chiton for modesty.
A guttural voice roared.
“Hunger Rage!”
Others joined it.
“Whirlwind of Claws!”
A human-sounding voice chimed in.
“Ripper Slime.”
Then another.
“Devouring Shadow.”
The first swelled in size until it exceeded Al’s own massive height and bulk.
Al met the charge and he might’ve withstood it if not for the sticky goo cast around his legs that fixed him to the floor while thousands of serrated teeth embedded within sawed at his skin.
The second slashed dozens of times a second across Al’s bare back.
Stinging pain chastised him for overconfidence.
Not that steel plate was likely to stand up to the flesheater’s Skill.
A dark shadow detached from the ceiling, coalescing into a vaguely serpent-like shape. It opened at the tip, revealing a whirling vortex of hidden teeth that clamped over his head to spin around his thickly muscled neck.
Sudden darkness consumed him while he wrestled with the raging flesheater.
Al didn’t doubt his victory if not for all the others assailing him.
Stuck feet meant that the flesheater had the advantage of leverage as he slowly wrestled Al’s back toward the floor.
“Bite of Ten Thousand Feasts!” the guttural voice roared in his face.
Carrion breath washed over him even through the shadow spell.
He threw his arm up in desperation.
An enormous mouth filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth clamped down.
Pain!
True pain for the first time on this world.
They sank deep into his divinely-enhanced flesh.
Only Adras’ divinity flowing through dense muscle stopped them from going straight to the bone.
He grabbed the back of the flesheater’s enormous head.
It reminded him of wrestling a Halcyon Bear.
Except that had been for enjoyment.
For him and the friendly bear.
The flesheater tried to pull away.
Al held him fast.
He wasn’t about to let it tear a chunk out of his arm to devour.
Flesheaters gained power from the flesh of others.
He didn’t dare allow the monstrous man to partake of divine flesh.
It wouldn’t do to dishonor Adras’ trust.
“Dispel.”
A high-pitched voice that sounded bored cleared the shadow blocking Al’s senses and remove the ring of teeth grinding around his neck.
“Dispel.”
The teeth-filled sticky goo vanished.
Al shifted his feet and hips, throwing the flesheater over a shoulder and slamming the monstrous man into the floor with all his weight.
They crashed through down to the next level.
And the next.
Until landing on the ground floor splashing into salty water.
Al slammed his arm and the flesheater’s head into the ground.
Wooden floorboards broke.
Dark water turned red.
He pounded the flesheater all the way to the building’s concrete foundation.
It cracked and broke before the flesheater’s skull.
Though not by much.
The flesheater choked on both their blood, clawing feebly.
“You die hard. A powerful class, if not for the inability to control your hunger. Such is the story of your class across all worlds.”
Al pulled the monstrous head from the body and cast it aside.
He glanced at his arm.
There looked to be a hundred punctures leaking burnished blood.
They seemed slow to heal.
He leapt up the way he had fallen.
The other two had slain more than him and he had to act quickly or—
Too late.
The spinning flesheater found even less success against the dark-skinned man.
She spun and spun around the man, cutting his pants and scratching his skin until he slashed a bare hand to separate her head from her shoulders.
As for the two spellcasting flesheaters?
The tiny princess pressed her armored boot down on one’s chest and pointed a finger.
Her lips moved, but Al didn’t catch the words.
An ethereal claw the color of the ocean depths emerged to rip and tear the front half of the monstrous man’s grotesque face.
All the while the other flesheater wriggled like a boar on a spear on the princess’ raised blade, firing dark, nauseating spells that splashed against the cerulean scales of her armor.
“Ah, the most mediocre champion in the history of my games.” The princess greeted Al with a smug smirk. “I believe you’ve slain two. That is well behind myself… and him.” She nodded at the dark-skinned man.
“Whatever, I ain’t about keeping count,” he shrugged. “Important thing is getting these monsters gone… yeah, that sounds about right though, alien fuck got two of the tougher ones.”
“You want this one?” the princess waved the flesheater in his direction like the last sausage at the campfire.
“I care not for acclaim. Just end her suffering. We must not become as monstrous as they are.”
The princess tore the flesheater’s head off with the spell claw.
She was powerful both martially and magically.
Good knowledge to have learned.
“Despite the vitriol,” he regarded the dark-skinned man, “we have worked well together to end this nightmare. I propose that this not be the last time we join our strength together for an honorable goal.”
“That ain’t up to me,” the dark-skinned man snorted. “Talk to the diplomats if you want another team up. Just remember we ain’t ever going back to America,” he sneered. “Atlanta’s great now, why we gonna fuck a good thing up just to have the same old white fucks screwing us over. Like I said, ain’t up to me… but one warrior to another… I ain’t ever teaming up unless it’s up against the worst shits out there. And if y’all try to pull some shady shit, I ain’t holding back just cause we put down some monsters together. Now, fuck off, alien. I’m gonna help my guys out. Figure you ought to do the same with yours. From the fireworks out there, fight ain’t over,” he glanced at the princess, “little girl… y’all weird and scary… respect.” He tapped his fist to his chest.
“Hmm,” the princess pushed her faceplate up to stroke her chin. “We share his sentiments, if not the vitriol. You will tell your American masters that the citizens of Richellia have no desire to rejoin a weak and fractured nation. They’re an old bear, past its prime days. Younger, stronger bears roam the land. We are one of them.” She smiled, revealing sharp canines. “Now, we must rejoin our elite guard. They are strong and brave, but young,” her eyes narrowed. “It is good that you didn’t perish here. Your death would’ve tainted the prestige of our championships. Continue to grow strong so that you might rise above your mediocrity.”
The princess leapt through the hole in the floor.
Arrogance and belligerence to varying degrees.
It stung him to realize that it wasn’t unwarranted.
Initial objective assessment of their comparative performances placed him at the bottom.
He’d reassess at a later date and with the other eidolons, but he didn’t expect that to change.
The princess was right.