Knives & Levels - Chapter 78

Denny stared at the soldier who had brought him the note; it sat in his shaking hands. The anger roiled around deep, the same anger he felt whenever someone had dropped a particularly nasty law-suit-worthy problem in his lap at the last minute. A bad government manager who had a record of harassing employees—this was the same thing.

Another vexing problem dropped in his lap, courtesy of that damned Colt whose head he would place on a pike when this was all said and done.

“Have you read this?” Denny asked, trying to keep his voice reined in. To make matters worse, his mage had a hand lopped off and was going through emergency recovery to get it reattached—healing cuts and wounds were simple enough for these healers.

It appeared that reattaching limbs was much more difficult. However, some part of him suspected his healers were in a quiet quitting situation.

Aside from those with his Crown Mark, they were more eager to help. But this one was beyond their capability to deal with, for now.

And with the time constraints…

“Tomorrow.” Denny rubbed his head as he ran the calculations. What would order a large-scale operation with all of his men—even conscripting others to recover his Minotaur? How would a common person react, and what might it do to this city just now starting to fall in line with his newest emergency orders?

He couldn’t let it die. His Icon had been very insistent on this being a key route to power: build up the monster, tame the monster, and let it be your weapon, and then you can rule as a King.

Minos had been quite clear on that aspect in the couple of conversations Denny had been afforded. Letting the Minotaur die was the equivalent of setting him back months at this point. It wasn't an option, with their enemies gathering power outside the city.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to give up the healer; that also wasn’t an option. Trading a key resource to these pathetic little rats didn’t sit right with him.

Everyone. Everyone was failing him. Denny slammed a fist into the table—it shattered as he drew on the bonds he’d set out, pulling from the Marks to reinforce his power.

It wasn’t even an intentional thing; he felt a hot swelling of pain and annoyance at all these useless little rats.

“Bring in the rest,” He ordered to another guard—a loyalist who had the crown mark on his chest. The man was a gruff, weaker type of grunt. But those were needed, too.

In came that light archer, along with the rest of the guards who had failed to capture that annoying little rat with the knife.

All of them entered the room in a shroud of silence as if they could feel the heavy failure they caused in the air. If they were more useful, he could have had his Minotaur eased back with this ongoing threat—if they were more useful, they could’ve taken out a key piece on the enemy’s team. They didn’t have time to waste with this nonsense rebellion in the midst of their city.

“All of you are incompetent,” Denny screamed, standing up and slamming his fists onto the table once more—feeling it crack underneath him. He felt his powers swell; the connection deepened. That light archer—Nick—Denny thought winced as he pulled more at their bond. It was a two-way street, and he was sick of these pieces of trash being able to perform the simplest of tasks.

“Two skirmishes. Two. No deaths on the other side—only our soldiers wounded and harmed in the middle of these engagements, all at our front door and in our glorious city. It’s as if no one wants to work anymore. No one wants to put in the effort and become strong enough to matter. Because of you all, we’ve had these bastards escape from under our noses again—and you—“ He raised a hand toward Nick, his nostrils flaring, “Have given up a secret weapon. Really? The enemy now knows your ‘hidden arrow’ technique you’ve developed with my help. The power in such a move is through surprise. I’ve looked over the reports. You should’ve known to close the distance before ever pulling it out.”

“I tried to stop him,” Nick argued.

That pissed Denny off—he flared his power and grasped at their bond, draining the man; Nick sunk to one knee, grimacing as he was forced to bend before his king.

Denny strode around the desk and backhanded him, sending the light archer to the ground.

“You say you want power, yet you act like a scared mouse. Thinking so small and in a way that benefits no one. If you want to be powerful, you must learn to act as a powerful person.”

Denny straightened, the anger broiling in him now a simmer since he had a physical outlet. It was always better to have a punching bag to turn your anger on. As Nick got up, the cold look in his eyes pissed Denny off again, but he let it sit and turned toward the rest of the soldiers here as he formulated a plan.

They wouldn’t bring the healer. Of course not.

The little scum was currently in an unmarked room on the edge of the stadium, hidden and being primed to fold under the Crown Mark, a harder task than it should have been.

Still, Denny didn’t give in because things were too hard. He marched away from the light archer and sank into his chair, steepling his hands as he considered the faces before him. All of these men were pale-faced and had wide eyes.

They’d gotten a taste of what true leadership was in this world. It was an ugly thing, unlike the world before, where leaders could hide the ugly in the dark for the normal citizen to go about happily; here, sometimes, by necessity, it came to the surface.

“I’m going to give you all an opportunity,” Denny began, clearing his throat, “To fix your failure. You and a few other choice soldiers will be coming with me tomorrow. And I’ll be giving you some new tools, so things will go differently this time.” His hand began to glow as his eyes reflected the same brilliant light, “A mark, which you can call upon for power.”

That was the key to their assault. He needed an army to get what he wanted; his skills benefited the most from soldiers, and his Edicts did as well. 

They exchanged nervous glances, but with these people, Denny felt, swaying them to do the right thing wouldn’t take much effort.

He’d take his army, he’d march to that damned destination set by his enemies, and then he’d crush them and crush that horrid little rat Colt beneath his heel. That was who Denny was.

###

Colt sat with his hands resting on the balcony in his black cloak, overlooking the battlefield while leaning on the railing. It was an old mall. The stores are now empty, with a giant part of the roof missing—courtesy of Colt cutting the supports and letting in the daylight in choice sections to give proper lighting.

There were also spare weapons stashed around, along with some traps set in the halls and stores to take advantage of in the chaos against their enemy. All in all, he had about thirty volunteers from all the groups.

Some inevitably had backed out, even given proof of the Minotaur. With a looming battle now real, they got cold feet.

But they had enough, hopefully.

In the middle of the mall was a bound Minotaur. It had long since stopped fighting them, but the intelligent part of that was still a man who understood that there were consequences to such an act. Even with all the Savage might it could muster, it wouldn’t amount to anything in the current environment.

Down below, he saw the shuffling forms of the various groups, preparing for their surprise attacks, taking advantage of the location.

All of the closed stores presented great hiding spots—there was a central group of about six near the Minotaur, including the rest of his own party. Nate, Sarah, and Julia. He belonged down there, but they’d insisted that he stay up here with his eyes on other entry points and in position to move to attack anywhere. The vantage point that one would normally give to a range unit.

For him, though, they just trusted he could close the gap to anywhere he was needed fast enough to make a difference.

Colt sighed as he waited, the time ticking by.

He supposed he would’ve had a fear in him before Cut, fear that his allies would be hurt—but it wasn’t there. Along with that too, didn’t come the adrenaline. Just a boredom, as he waited for the action to start and to finally finish what he’d set out to long before.

Anticipation then? Colt ran through his expectations for the coming fight.

There were going to be tricks up Denny’s sleeve; that much was certain. Whether or not Jimmy came was also important. He was leaning more towards the impression that Denny would just arrive and attack with an assault force, which would make this simple: they would execute the Minotaur and then move on and deal with Denny, taking a piece off the board to deal with the king.

When faced with an enemy who introduced complexity, you couldn’t expect, the best defense was to keep your own strategy simple and effective.

They wanted to kill Denny; today wasn’t just a meeting. It was an execution. As he stared down at Nate’s hard face as he overlooked the Minotaur, he could see the sentiment reflected there. It was the same as it had been with Bill. The cops understood too, he thought, after he spoke with them with the rescued Finn.

In the absence of law and order, doing what was right and giving the world the justice it deserved required willpower and the ability to make harsh decisions.

Denny was a blight, and that blight would only grow.

Colt reached for his dagger and ran a hand along the slick black metal, feeling it give a heartbeat.

Justice in this world was something you had to make. You had to earn and pay for it with your power; others who saw their own injustice would do what they may.

There was a shift in the air; he felt it. The light in the mall increased, marking the time of day they specified. This was the ultimate moment—the battlefield was set and prepared, and now all they waited for was their enemy.

Colt felt him before he arrived; he felt a sudden tension to the air, a heaviness of Edicts, unbridled and uncontrolled. Fueled on emotional rage as something rapidly approached from outside.

He gave a warning to the people on the ground floor, and sure enough, his prediction was right.

A minute later, the door at the end of the mall exploded inward from a blast of condensed air.

Denny walked in, along with twenty men. More than Colt expected, but not all of them looked to be the guards he’d grown used to seeing outside of their growing fortress of a city.

The man strode in like he owned the place—his eyes glittering as he took in everything; they briefly flickered onto Colt and then onto his Minotaur in the middle of the mall plaza, and that mask of confidence slipped away into a deep frown and furrowed eyebrows. They kept walking past the couple of stores that groups had been stashed away in. Unaware that anyone was there or if they’d spotted them, they failed to react.

Good. He’s angry.

Colt scanned the numbers—the Wind Mage and Nick were behind him. Both of those he’d been counting on.

Denny strode up to Nick; his pace hastened now, and his face grew red. What Colt did not see, however, was Jimmy.

So, Denny had gone the route Colt thought most likely. Good, this was the one they’d prepared the most for—the most straightforward way to fight. Colt felt a smile on his face as the grip of his knife tightened; it was like playing chess and predicting the move of another. And now, it was coming ahead.

“You boys really fucked up,” Denny yelled, his voice shaking the mall as he infused it with force—the second he reached Nate, he curled a fist back. It seemed they weren’t going to waste any time here at all.