Knives & Levels - Chapter 79

Of course, the second Denny stormed in, marched up to Nate, and cocked his fist back for a punch, several things happened at once, several things which would decide the course of fate for an entire city of thousands. One which Colt had the premiere seat to witness, given his position on the second story balcony of the mall overlooking it all.

For one, their ranged units appeared at the balcony—ten men and women, darting out from their hiding spots to rain down hell on the invading force: slings, arrows, and magic; they ran on their cue, a shout from Sarah.

The most important thing, though, was what Colt watched with most of his attention. Julia charged her staff, the bright glow of the crystal almost blinding as the sapphire blue radiated out in a brilliant and striking light.

As Nate recoiled, Denny’s fist went gold and the attack Colt was watching hit. A blast of water rocketed out from her staff, right at the Minotaur’s head. It began to call upon its Edict, letting out a roar as it sensed the sudden oncoming stream of deathly water coming its way.

The golden wrap around Denny’s fist vanished. Instead, pulsing out from the mark on the Minotaur’s chest, an Edict screamed into being, a demand that things go its way, that all obey what it said. It fortified the Savage Edict of the Minotaur. The barrier took on a golden blur as the light fought against the water, repelling it.

Julia and the Minotaur clashed against one another, yet her Edict wasn’t powerful enough.

At the same time, Sarah stepped in, catching Denny by the wrist and shifting his momentum, using her superior martial arts skills to maneuver him in for a blow. Nate swung his hammer back, and Denny yelled, a golden shock of light flooding from his and jerking Sarah and Nate away from him before they could land anything substantial.

Around them, his soldiers were erupting in a golden shroud as well—people were spilling out from the stores on the side to confront them and prevent them from converging on the Minotaur’s position.

Denny had chosen the route Colt thought he would, and done so while mustering more power than he'd presented before 

Nothing here was out of the scope of what Colt figured would happen. As Julia failed to break through the barrier, he saw his part in the overall plan taking shape.

Colt vaulted the railing and felt the weapon in his hand give a beat, in another second, he flashed forward, yanking upon movement even while wrapping and channeling the golden line of death on his blade; in an instant, he flared through the air, like an arrow, and arrived right at the Minotaur—Julia halted her attack at his arrival, at seeing his blade; the Minotaur raged, and tried to crawl away in the brief second that it registered his arrival.

It was too late.

Denny had taken what people loved from many people, he’d stripped them of their pride, of their independence, of their right to exist in the city they used to call home—declaring it his. He’d even stripped this poor man of his humanity, and turned him into his.

He made sure to catch Denny’s eye and then raised his hand up. The golden light of his knife was pure brilliant gold. It held within the depths of it the truth of the world and the universe; it reflected a simple, precise, noble desire in this moment.

Freedom. He was going to free this monster from the chains that had bound it within this prison of flesh; Denny screamed out a no—and then was forced to stop as Nate and Sarah went in on him, trying to bring him down, buying Colt whatever time he needed.

Colt felt the barrier beneath him, a working of magic infused with about four different Edicts. A couple of them Greater, and a trace of even more. Borrowed from the soldiers that Denny brought with him.

Yes. Colt felt it now. Like a web spanning out from a spider, Denny’s lies and his magic had infested every single man and woman here.

His Cut before wouldn’t have been able to break this barrier before.

Now, he brought the golden edge against the golden barrier; he shone brighter, he shone purer, with an energy and vibrancy to it that spoke far deeper to the truths of the universe.

There were sparks as their powers clashed, black little swirls like tiny universes from where Colt cleaved through the powers of other earthly-bound Edicts; where his blade touched left lingering black crystals, filled with thousands of stars each before they vanished away in the blink of an eye.

Denny screamed louder, and the barrier flared.

Colt brought his knife down and, with a draw of Movement, gave his Superior Cut all the fuel it possibly needed to finish the job.

The golden barrier broke like a pane of glass, and it made the same sound, too—only louder. A crack split across the entirety of the battlefield, halting the starting fights as everyone’s eyes were drawn inevitably to the source of the noise.

Colt’s knife slit through the barrier and slit through the throat of the Minotaur, spilling the last of its lifeblood as it spurted out on the ground.

He held the monster’s head as the light faded from its eyes. He saw the beast die first, leaving the intelligence there for a moment. Finally, it was freed from the monster it had become. The golden brand on his chest vanished away, just like the barrier, cut free from life and the imprisonment it had suffered under the man who’d originally promised this person power.

In those dying eyes was a sense of peace and gratitude. It had achieved a freedom, and the injustice which had been done onto it by Denny had been stripped, cut through.

And then, it was gone, a flicker in the wind.

———

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You have 9 Stat points to spend. You have gained 3 points of Dexterity and 3 points of Soul.

———

“I’m going to kill you!” Denny screamed, his voice shattering the brief yet precious seconds of peace. “You’ve wasted months of time and damned our city—you selfish son of a bitch!“

Colt spun the knife in his hand and took one deep breath. His heart was calm since he knew he’d done what was needed. What came next was just the rest of that; he turned to Denny, and the man had taken a halo of light around him, the glow deep and profound.

His eyes shone with the same light—from the corpse of the Minotaur, a stream of it flowed to him, filling him, as if the governor wasn’t done with the poor man even in death and was now feasting on his soul; it had twisted and perverted the freedom that had been granted, stealing from the poor man who’d been transformed into a Minotaur even after death.

Colt felt a cold anger once more as he stared at the last gasp of the Minotaur’s power was taken once more by the man who’d stolen his humanity.

There was a weight to the air.

And Colt felt it. Denny had made a trade: the way the gold settled on his skin, the way that his shoulders rolled back, and the light radiated with more weight.

Denny had broken through to a new level in his Edicts.

———

Name: Denny Rodgers  | Race: Basic Human

Icon: Minos | Class: Throneweaver (II) [Epic]

 Level: 61

This is a basic human on the path of Minos; they are moving forward in Throneweaver, an Epic Class whose information is not readily available in this inspection. Additionally, they have reached a lesser grasp of the Edict Lead and Edict with the potential to inspire and draw out strengths in others.

Noteworthy Skills:

[Hidden]

Edicts:

Subjugate (Superior)

———

That was, oh my it was… That was a new Edict. Colt was sure the last time he’d seen it, it had been called ‘Lead.’ Not Subjugate. The feel in the air now was different, too; before, the barrier had held four Edicts. Two of them he’d guessed from Denny—this was neither of them.

It was as if the two had been forced together to form whatever he was looking at now. And the way in which it rolled out over the battlefield, how it dominated and influenced everyone else, including Colt’s people. A couple of his fighters went to the knees while Denny’s were reinforced, the golden glow on this chest glowing and strengthening them.

Well, shit.

Colt rolled his shoulders and stared at the want to be god in front of him; he saw the smile on Denny’s face as he came to the understanding of his new power. He threw his nine new stat points into Soul. Knowing he’d need every bit of power he could get.

Then, Colt pulled upon his tried and true Movement and spiraled forward—not for a stab, but rather to grab and force Denny as far away from the fighting as he could. If he focused on the kill now, there would be casualties. Subjugate had the ill effect of having a domain and influence on everything around him. Since there were a lot of people Colt cared about keeping alive here, the answer was simple.

Separate and deal with.

The world slowed to a crawl, except for Denny, who moved at a slow, lethargic pace in this slowed time. Colt ran forward and slammed into him, his muscles straining as he forced Movement into the enemy too to force him step by step forward and straight out the way he’d come in, through the broken Mall door; the mall and the fighting rushed by in a slow motion as he pushed them from the main battlefield—then further, every step burning as Denny’s light magic tore at him.

Forcing such power and fighting against the stirring Edicts who wanted to contest him and force him to obey was hard.

Each step was akin to moving a boulder up a hill—his legs strained, sweat poured from him, and he needed too much air even to be able to breathe, his lungs gasping as black began to hinge the edge of his vision.

In a total of ten seconds outside of this condensed slowed time—he’d gotten Denny. Clear of the mall, he used another quick burst of Movement to move himself back, just in time to avoid a slash of a golden-formed sword.

Colt took in a deep gasp of air. The light above showcased his greatest enemy, Denny, a former civil servant turned dictator. Denny’s face was still red, his anger plain.

His rival.

He could only hope that his team in the mall could handle themselves while he dealt with the boss, and then, if it came down to it, they’d be out in time to lend him a hand as well.

Hang in there.

###

Sarah watched as Denny charged one of her close friends and almost landed a punch—then she’d acted, her body moving naturally, taking control of the situation and redirecting the blow in a move she’d practiced countless times. And it worked.

Until it didn’t.

The power was too much; the blast of light which made her step back, brought her to a halt, and then all hell broke loose, as it tended to these days with these kinds of battles. Colt appeared. Killed the Minotaur. Denny lost his shit and erupted in even more golden light; this time, she felt something to it, a kind of power that hung thick in the air.

It also did something to her, making her legs weak, making her sink to her knees. She was unable to contest it, aware of its grip on her but not having any tools to wrestle it.

This wasn’t like a fistfight. There wasn’t the right move to fight back against such a thing, it was an absolute force acting upon her and demanding she obey, and that pissed her off.

Again and again, the drum beats of these Edicts forced their way into her life, making her their plaything; all the while, she couldn’t even collect a single one. Couldn’t contest this; it was like the same note to the same song, banging repeatedly, each time a little reminder. A louder message to her was that she was a failure, had been failing, and was dragging all of her friends down because of her inability to clear this impossible hurdle.

Sarah gripped her head, the pain a tangible sensation, as she was forced down. In the corner of her eye, she saw that Denny’s people still had free reign—then she saw Nick, notching an arrow, his attention on them.

There was a blur of movement from the dead minotaur, and that awful weight on her vanished as both Colt and Denny yanked away from the fighting.

She stood again, rolling her shoulders and taking a much-needed breath of air—and then Nate doubled over; the center of his shirt gone, a hole in it, along with the melted skin in the middle of his chest from a flash of light, fired from Nick.

There was another flash—this one Nate blocked as his hammer reformed into a shield; he yelled, and she jumped behind it. Hiding. An arrow hit—then another landed on the ground nearby, rebounding and slamming into him, drawing out yet another grunt of pain for the soldier.

“Move forward!” She called, and he did—marching, as more arrows slammed into the ground nearby and redirected, all of them headed straight toward Nate. Yet he didn’t let his shield up, didn’t increase his pace. He took the hits, slowing as they hit more skin. Nick’s control of his damn Edict had increased. The damned archer had a much better feel for it, and as a result, every single blow was landing; some, she swore, even did a second bounce of Nate’s shield as he tried to block.

But why wasn’t Nate charging ahead?

“Get him! I’ll get to cover,” she promised, yet Nate shook his head.

“He’s playing a game,” Nate said through gritted teeth, suddenly shifting his shield to try to block a hit—he did, and then the arrow hit the ground, then bounced again, this time smashing into Nate’s leg, making the big guy stumble.

Sarah saw where this was going and split from the shield shelter—making it three steps before Nick flung an arrow of light her way. She braced her arms, eyes wide as the magic went directly to her. Then Nate was there, blocking it with the shield. It bounced and then tried to hit his leg again; this time, though, Nate managed to dodge it.

But he was becoming sluggish; his movement weakened after being subjected to half a dozen arrows. His skin had a burnt smell that reminded her of pork; he was sweating and grunting as he moved. 

“You leave this cover; he’ll hit you. He’s forcing me to shield you as a threat, to slow us down.” Nate said.

And Sarah felt a wrench in her gut.

Nick had flagged their weak point. He wasn’t targeting Julia because she had her water barrier—right now, the Water Mage was getting involved with two soldiers who’d rushed the center position, keeping them at bay.

No, Nick knew them. He knew their team, strengths, and weaknesses and picked her—the one member without an Edict. The one member he knew would have to rely on the others to not get shredded apart by magic and Edicts.

And it pissed her off. There it was again, a physical sensation of a drum beat in her heart, as her weakness was once more exposed. Nate narrowly blocked another arrow, both the initial hit and the sneaky rebound. Their progress was stalling; Nate’s leg looked bad; blood oozed from the melted flesh as Sarah watched him reforge it with his Edict. It wasn’t fast enough, and she suspected some of the muscle beneath had been damaged.

And she was the reason why.

She simmered, peeking past the shield at Nick. She saw the blazing emblem of a crown on his chest radiating outward, the glow making his light bow better.

She’d never liked the guy. Never understood him, or how he liked to whine about his failed music career—they were in an apocalypse. That life was over. Yet he clung to it like a scared child, even while having the balls to kill monsters with his heaven-sent bow.

Sarah wanted magic.

She wanted Edicts.

All she had were these two fists of hers, one of which was wrapped in a red hand wrap, completely useless without magic, without the ridiculous speed of Colt.

She watched Nate take another hit and felt another drum beat in her chest, the building sense of hopelessness, of uselessness—of action, of each step, every bit of pain. Her friends were suffering for her weakness; at this rate, Nick would get what he wanted. To kill Nate for daring to stand up for an Edict he deserved.

She felt the beat again, a tangible pulse in her chest. Her heart, she felt it. A hand went to it, pressed there, wondering if she was about to have an anxiety attack in the middle of a battlefield; she felt the beat once more.

And with it, she felt a sense of power.

She looked past Nate’s shield at Nick as he pulled another arrow. She waited for him to release it, then sprang past Nate, ignoring his cry of alarm. Each step she took reverberated through her whole body; she felt the sensation in her chest, her limbs, and her movement. It was a beat to a song—a melody of battle, she knew.

An arrow hit her arm, and the pain was yet another note, a building sensation in her chest as she closed the distance, every step built upon the other, every step just a bit quicker—Nick fired again. Yet again, she felt it hit, felt the pain radiate through her, let it funnel; this one gave her a bit more strength, a bit more speed than before.

She saw the whites of Nick’s eyes; they widened, and there was a flare of power as he accumulated all he could to stop her, but she was too fast now.

Surprised you, huh?

She gave a manic grin as another three arrows hit at once; they hurt a little less than the first, each one having built on the other, and she slammed a quick punch to his gut—and then to his chest—the distance had evaporated, quicker then he thought. One footstep at a time. That was what she was used to. Effort. Constant effort, each building on another—she landed a fist on Nick’s jaw, spinning the man in place; that golden crown on his chest flared, and he caught himself.

Good. Sarah kicked him in the chest as he came around again. This blow was more powerful than the punches, sending him skidding across the ground.

He tried to fire another arrow, this one black as it sat in his bow, but she was there. Her foot hit his hand, disrupting the spell. She landed on his chest with a knee, blowing his air out.

And then smacked him in the face several times. Each one is stronger than the last. She punched him until he stopped moving, his face red and swollen.

Then she stopped. The song had ended and reached its conclusion. She slunk down, the pain now radiating outward, owning her. There was a notification, a few of them actually, but one that mattered far more than the rest to her.

———

Edict Gained: Crescendo 

You’ve achieved a minor understanding of this greater principle of reality. Wow, it took you some time. Hopefully, you’ll find the rewards worth the effort, like always. You’ve understood this principle and can now interact with it.

———

Sarah let out a laugh, and her gaze turned to the rest of the battle, ignored in her personal quest to beat this bastard; it was war. Spells, blood, screaming—Nate had redirected himself and engaged two different guys, slamming them with his hammer and somehow standing even on a ruined leg. Julia had formed a barrier as their reinforcements from above were peppering her attackers with arrows.

Their glows had lessened. But… Well.

Sarah tried to move but couldn’t. Her body was exhausted. Spent. Her limbs felt like lead as if she’d trained for eight hours and then kept going long past that.

They’d never mentioned how straining these things were.

She grunted as she brought herself around—trying to look out the door Colt had dragged the governor. She couldn’t see them. Her heart sank.

All she could do now was hope the rest would pull through. That Colt would survive. Next time, if there was a next time, she would be the one they relied on.