Coop had led his friends through an industrial section of the city that linked the airport with the seaport. They avoided the main thoroughfares, utilizing side streets lined with warehouses, so that the Empire’s Chosen wouldn’t easily spot them during their escape. Obviously, the plan hadn’t been flawless, but they were still entering the final stage: the getaway.
The group entered the port from the northern side via a private access road designated for commercial trucks, but they needed to cross to the south side to rendezvous with Sharkbait and their escape vehicle. The plan was to have Kayla’s first mate wait for them at Port Front Park.
Before the assimilation, Port Front Park was known for the pedestrian paths that ran along its iconically long breakwater. The park had been a popular place among locals, with benches to watch the comings and goings of expensive yachts on one side and the disembarking of cruise ships on the other. Joggers and fishermen would utilize the breakwater while families picnicked and boat watched.
The port was separated into three main artificial islands that each connected to the mainland separately, all angled to better accommodate supermax ships to better enter the lanes leading north. The closest island to Coop was the shipping section, where the oversized container ships docked to unload their cargo from all over the world. The middle and primary island was for tourists and cruise ships, and it was the one connected to the rest of the city with a major highway. The furthest island held several public marinas for locals, with Port Front Park at the forefront.
The furthest section was their destination.
Coop followed the access road until it converged with an offramp that connected to the main elevated causeway leading to the cruise ships. The causeway provided a direct highway to the port for everything from commercial trucks and other heavier vehicles, to public transportation, bypassing the city’s downtown, and supposedly easing traffic. The causeway represented the main path connecting the port to the mainland and a barrier between the north and south that Coop would need to cross.
As Coop moved toward the marinas he kept an eye out for more of the Empire’s Chosen. It had been long enough for the guards back inside the settlement to have found the guards that Camila had defeated, especially with the storm dying down, so he expected a proper manhunt to have begun, even considering the incompetence that the Empire constantly revealed.
Empress City was a huge settlement, and had an immense number of Chosen capable of mobilizing in the event of an attack. Even if their ability to govern was obviously questionable, Coop at least trusted the Empire to be competent when it came to the one thing their faction cared about, which was conquest. He had no doubt that they would treat the storm that Charlie created as a reason to rouse their army.
Unfortunately, his fears were realized when he spotted a crowd of hundreds of people moving toward the port. They were marching down the abandoned highway more like a gang than any sort of proper organization. A few would break away, leaping over barriers to chase down some unfortunate soul whenever anyone was spotted. There was nothing orderly about them.
Coop hoped that the rest of his companions were ready to go. He didn’t think they would be able to stand up to the small army that had already been rolled out by the Empire if they were forced into a direct confrontation at the pier. Coop didn’t want to find out if he was ready to fight hundreds of people at once.
Coop tried to sneak across the causeway, but there was little to no cover. He was left with a clear line of sight between himself and the army of Chosen, but he dodged between broken down vehicles and cleared the median before he heard shouts as he was inevitably spotted.
He didn’t squander his small headstart, breaking into a run, crossing the causeway, and heading toward the park. It was time for them to get out of there. The Empire could have sent battalions in every direction away from the airport and into the city, and each one would be a crowd as large as the one moving toward the port.
Their complete lack of presence at the port indicated neglect of their naval capabilities, but the worst case scenario would be to linger long enough for the different groups to lock down the city or converge at the port, cutting them off from escaping at sea. They would need to be outside of any perimeter that the Empire established.
Some of the Chosen gave chase, excited by prey that attempted to flee. They weren’t so disciplined that they would maintain a formation, rather, their modus operandi was to grab anyone they saw in a twisted form of finders keepers. Coop wasn’t about to let a handful of individuals stop him, but he would need to avoid being slowed down enough for the rest of the Chosen to bolster their numbers.
Coop wouldn’t make it before the fastest of the groups caught up with him, even if he could easily outrun the bulk of his pursuers. They hooted and hollered behind him like they were on a foxhunt, generating even more attention from the rest of the crowd. He ran down the offramp and leapt over the traffic barrier to skip the abandoned security checkpoints for the port, hustling toward the park.
As the first of the chasers closed in on him, he spotted the breakwater that separated the public marinas from the gargantuan cruise ships. The catamaran was waiting at the point, just as expected.
Coop rounded the corner into the park and started sprinting down the paved jogging path that connected to the wide concrete breakwater. He was much faster than he had been before mana bolstered his Agility, but he couldn’t claim speed as his primary attribute, not like magic defense and physical power. The Empire’s Chosen with skills that boosted their speed would catch up to him before he made it to the boat even if they had less base Agility than he did.
Coop blasted the closest Chosen with his aura, halting her in her tracks as she choked off her manic laughter, replacing it with a concerned whimper as his oppressive presence caused an instinctual response. Even his clumsy efforts with Presence of Mind were effective thanks to the sheer weight of his aura, at least the first time someone was exposed to it.
He kept running down the path, passing the massive concrete riprap on his left that protected from the wakes of the cruise ships and their tugboats. The customary casual fishermen from the pre-mana days were missing. On his right, across a channel, yacht after yacht sat waiting, uselessly, in expensive boat slips. The rich paid extra to show off to the park’s visitors and have their boats closest to the inside of the breakwater, but now they were left abandoned with no crews and no spectators.
The next two Chosen blew past the stunned frontrunner, unaffected and unconcerned by her sudden stop. Each just wanted to be the one that captured their quarry. As they chased him down the breakwater, the first one got near enough to use a skill that hooked Coop’s shoulder with a glowing red claw that cut into his flesh. It gripped Coop and twisted him off balance, making him stumble. Coop landed on the strip of windblown grass that bordered both sides of the path all the way down the breakwater, with his momentum carrying him forward in an awkward somersault.
Coop was back on his feet before the red claw Chosen could grab him, swinging his glaive like a baseball bat. He caught the Chosen with the shaft, hitting him hard in the ribs with a crack, knocking the air out of his lungs, and throwing him into the water toward the yachts. The Chosen landed with a splash while his red claw trailed after him, through the air, like a novelty sticky hand out of a gumball machine.
The second Chosen followed up with a flying kick, whole body glowing with a greenish yellow haze, never slowing down and aiming for Coop’s neck. Coop dropped his glaive, still in his backswing, and grabbed him by the ankle, spun with his momentum one full rotation, and turned the kicking leg into the grip of a hammer throw. Coop threw him into the water even further than the first Chosen. The palms of Coop’s hands burned like he had gripped something caustic.
Looking back at the rest of his pursuers, he realized they were in real trouble. Dozens more of the Empire’s Chosen were now charging down the path. He suspected even more were following not far behind. They needed to start moving the catamaran right away. He dismissed his glaive and just ran.
The anxiety that was building in his chest distracted him from the shouts and laughter behind him as well as the burning in his lungs. He was maybe a hundred yards away from the end of the breakwater where the catamaran was waiting to make their escape. Camila was standing on the front of the catamaran waving and jumping, and Charlie gripped the starboard rails with both hands. They were so close to getting away.
Thunder abruptly exploded from Coop’s left, where the cruise ships were moored, like multiple lightning bolts coordinated a strike at the same time. Coop felt the sound in his molars, it was so sudden and piercing, the vibration made his heart skip a beat. He nearly stopped in surprise.
A split second later the path erupted behind him, the oversized breakwater stones were pulverized, and giant splashes surged in the water on both sides of the path. The shockwave knocked the breath out of his lungs and he lost his balance and tripped, falling face first onto the paved trail with his ears ringing.
He turned to look behind him, elbows propping him up. The breakwater had been demolished like someone had detonated TNT in an effort to split it in half. Before he had a chance to understand what happened, another round of thunder claps rattled his bones, and more explosions followed. Coop looked over toward the end of the cruise ships where he finally spotted the broadside of the Eye of the Storm, smoke billowing from the rows of cannons. The top row fired, and the detonations along the breakwater followed.
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The massive galleon was utterly dwarfed by the cruise ships, and had been hidden as it tucked away behind the idle vessels. He spotted Captain Kayla standing with one leg propped up on the thick wooden side railing, a wide smile on her face, her sword drawn and aimed at the sky. She thrust the blade forward and the second row of cannons fired, rocking the huge ship with the force of the synchronized cannonballs launching toward the breakwater. He was sure they had destroyed the path, but between the smoke and the debris, there was nothing to see.
He got back to his feet and ran the rest of the way to the catamaran with just the sounds of his heartbeat and his breathing in his ears, deaf to everything else. Sharkbait was waiting for Coop to board with his arms crossed on top of his scarred and tattooed belly. The big man still said nothing as Coop climbed his way onto the deck, hoping they wouldn’t waste any time before leaving. The catamaran started moving immediately, as if Sharkbait had sent a mental command that they were ready.
Coop stumbled to the lounge area on the bow of the 45 foot sailboat and collapsed, catching his breath, relieved that he hadn’t been the cause of all of them failing in their escape. Camila sat next to him and laughed. Then, he felt a hand gently placed on his head and looked up. He found Madison glowing like an angel as she healed him yet again. He only had minor scrapes from falling, the seared cuts on his shoulder, and the blisters on his hands. They barely dealt any damage to him, but she applied her skills anyway.
“Well that was dramatic!” Derek announced as he withdrew from the cabin to join the group, then he strummed a few melodramatic notes. He seemed excited to be free. “An exciting getaway! But didn’t anyone tell you that cool guys don’t stop to watch the explosions?”
“Man, that was scary as hell.” Coop countered, not embarrassed at all by his reaction to a 40 cannon barrage aimed not far behind him. Both Charlie and Madison laughed at his lack of shame and he couldn’t help but join them, chuckling in relief.
As the port was left in their wake and nothing left shore to pursue them, Coop finally breathed easy. “Looks like we can go home.” He observed to the visible satisfaction of everyone present.
Coop laid flat on his back and shut his eyes, waiting for the adrenaline to fade. He listened to Derek argue with the crew of ghost pirates about the lyrics of a sea shanty as they made their way further from the shore. They finally settled the debate and started singing together, pulling ropes to manipulate the sails in unison.
Coop felt good. He was finally able to return his thoughts to Ghost Reef. There was a lot to do, but it felt more manageable when he could concentrate on the islands and try not to worry about what was going on elsewhere.
—
Jerry slammed his open palm against the glass top bar and immediately regretted it. His hand stung, but he still got the desired reaction from most of his top advisors. They all flinched at the slapping sound while he struggled to maintain his composure, he felt his ears burn but his face stayed neutral.
He had his image to protect.
The Supreme Champion of the Endless Empire wouldn’t wince. Rod was the only one missing from his council, but he would have approved of Jerry’s poise if he were there.
He and Rod had developed their roles long before any of this was real. Rod liked to play as the manipulator and Jerry the overlord. Now that a system that was essentially a roleplaying game was real, they knew all the tricks to get them to the top of the endgame.
“Sorry, Supreme Champion.” His commander of the troops apologized, showing Jerry respect by keeping his head down. “We mobilized all five ready battalions and sent batteries in all directions as soon as we learned of the attack and breakout.”
Jerry shook his head in frustration. How could some vagabond evade 25,000 of his soldiers, let alone escape from their faction provided dungeon? He hadn’t even been informed they had captured someone of interest until after he had already fled. He would need to punish someone.
Even worse, they lost their prize catch, an Angel of Mercy that had literally fallen into their laps as soon as her faction completed her training. Losing her before she pledged fealty was a massive blunder and to top it all off, that bastard, Derek, had also disappeared. He regretted not executing him right away, but Rod wanted to make him suffer first. That turned out to be a mistake.
The unbeatable pair of Rod and Jerry always made the most logical decisions, whether it was for their classes, allegiances, or anything else. It was the key to success. Keeping Derek alive had been an emotional choice and it had clearly backfired. Jerry would be sure to remind Rod, whenever his right hand reappeared.
His advisor had continued his report even as Jerry tuned him out. He returned his attention to the fat commander as he made more excuses for his incompetence.
“...headstart due to your defensive measures. I must commend you on such an impressive display of your abilities. It was a magnificent storm, but it delayed our response greatly.” The advisor praised Jerry even while he justified their failure.
Jerry had taken credit for the ridiculous storm that formed over his base, calling it a defensive Champion action that triggered when the dungeon was attacked. The truth was that he had nothing to do with it. He was horrified when he noticed the clouds twisting outside of his private lounge in the captain’s bar and hid until it faded.
Blaming it on Champion abilities had worked well. It was much better than admitting he couldn’t explain it. Only he and Rod had any experience with any other Champion, and that was during the first week, before any of his other advisors had returned from training. As far as he knew, no one else had ever seen another Champion other than himself.
The lady that had originally claimed the civilization shard hadn’t been anything special. She was just some kind of social activist that tried to create a community settlement all about cooperation. A naive waste of power as far as he was concerned, it was completely illogical to be dragged down by helping those who couldn’t help themselves.
She died without ever recovering from Rod’s mindflay, making it an easy kill for Jerry. Rod’s abilities had never failed to fully incapacitate any of their targets. It was a testament to the wisdom in selecting magical ranged based classes. Range was always superior in the end. It played to humanity’s natural aptitudes and what ultimately separated them from mere animals.
Jerry was glad that the Empire had recognized his and Rod’s potential from the start, giving them a priority in training and trusting them enough to send them back early in order to establish the faction’s settlement.
A second advisor was now walking him through what the investigation at the dungeon had figured out. Jerry spared him some attention.
“As you know, the Empire’s guards aren’t allowed to physically restrain Earthlings due to system limitations. They’ve assured us that no one would have escaped otherwise. The current theory is that one of the other prisoners, a Jackson Hobbs, had a faulty collar placed on his neck by human guards after a previous enhanced interrogation. He was able to remove it and use his abilities to escape, incidentally freeing the other prisoners in his own attempt to get out. Mr. Hobbs was arrested 10 days ago as an agitator against the current command structure…”
Jerry didn’t care. He just wanted to know about the vagabond and the Angel. He cut his second advisor off. “And what about the pursuit?” He demanded.
“We’ve rounded up another 200 citizens, but none were any of the prisoners. Battalion 7 reported casualties in a confrontation with Primal Trackers to the east, Battalion 3 spotted another caravan to the north before they retreated and a battery from Battalion 12 had an elite casualty due to self-inflicted wounds…” The advisor hesitated as Jerry narrowed his eyes, growing impatient. “They also claimed to have been attacked by pirates.” He finally added. Jerry scoffed at the idea of pirates, and the advisor took the hint. “Don’t worry sir, the Captain has already been removed.”
“Where did this…pirate… attack occur, exactly?” He questioned his advisor who looked appropriately nervous to remain on the topic under Jerry’s gaze.
“Section 12b, sir. What used to be called Port Front Park.” The advisor stated before gulping. Jerry had worked hard to create a dangerous reputation, ruthlessly applying his own abilities and making public examples of people. He loved when it paid off in the reactions around him. This is what it was to properly wield power. He flicked some sparks between his fingers to increase the impact.
“Maybe there are pirates, or even privateers.” He muttered to the surprise of his advisors, suggesting that their rival was expanding their methods of harassment. “Whatever happened to our nautical expeditions?” Jerry continued his line of questioning.
“All but three returned, Supreme Champion. Nothing of interest was found.” The other advisor answered. “One of the three at large was confirmed run aground and sunk, the survivors were devoured by possible sea monsters. Another was defeated by members of the settlement to the north upon making contact. The last is still missing, but presumed to be lost at sea.”
He could have done without the constant reminder of the closest neighboring settlement and the headaches that they had already caused on their northern flank. It was just his luck that the nearest civilization shard was multiple days travel and extremely hostile. Empress City was cut off from the rest of the continent as long as their neighbor remained, and now they might be exposed from the sea. Something needed to be done, but they would have to wait for the first settlement event before such a long range expedition was launched.
There should have been around 200 shards on the continent, but at the ranges they had already searched, it appeared there would be only one tenth of that amount. They had been given bad intel from the start, and they hadn’t been able to utilize the advantage an early army gave them when the entire head start was spent searching and traveling.
“And where did the vagabond come from?”
“From inland, sir. Checkpoint 27.”
Could this vagabond have been an accomplice of this Jackson Hobbs? It seemed unlikely as Hobbs was a local. He thought there was a better chance that it was a plot from their enemies up north. Everything led back to them. They were sinking their ships, capturing their scouts, and pestering them with their own caravans. Someone may have leaked that they had an Angel in custody, leading to an operation on their dungeon.
He’d have to conduct a molehunt with Rod. They’d be able to have some fun while they solved the problem.