Knives & Levels - Chapter 73

Colt stood on the edge of the rooftop, his hair billowing as a gust of air took to it; down below, in the darkness, he saw the barest movement of the Minotaur, a mass of shifting black fur and rage as its Edict expanded and rolled outward. The air already had the stench of blood, and as he braced, he knew things were about to get serious.

Him against the Minotaur. No matter what he told Tom, that was the crux of the issue; he was the only one with enough Edicts and raw power to cut through the defenses of that beast, and therefore, he would be the only one to do enough damage to subdue it. He could get help, but against such a being of overwhelming might, those who could swing around the bigger sword and pack the most power into their attacks would win this particular conflict.

What he’d failed to mention to them is in a way, he knew it would come down to this. He versus the Minotaur. Raw might against raw might in a fight that would be decided in less than a minute—that was the way this would be.

His allies would arrive, but by the time they got into a position to help, things would be over.

There was a roar below, laden thick and heavy with the Savage Edict; he could taste it in the air. The desire to revert to the most primal of instincts. The most brutish of fighting. The animal-man below demanded that he lower himself to its level. It wanted to rip his guts out and string them up over the alley, decorating everything with his insides and eating his heart.

It wanted war. It wanted a bloody brawl that only left one victor. And that brought a cold shock to his heart, a cold bath of fear that ran through his muscles, almost a paralysis. But little by little, he shook it off, knowing that time was running short.

Colt adjusted his grip on his knife as it gave a heartbeat, and then he bent his Edicts around it, layered thick, and channeled through the knife itself.

The blade sharpened and elongated with an invisible edge extending past what a knife should be. He felt another beat as he concentrated as much of his will as possible.

Once again, the Minotaur shuffled below, and Colt knew time would run out. In any second, it would charge through the building he was standing on, choosing to destroy it entirely to bring him and everyone else down.

Colt dived off the building, his body infused with the Cut Edict as he fell fast, slipping through the air as if it weren’t there.

Right before crashing into the ground, he stole his speed with Movement, saving himself from a jolting landing.

The beast was there, its foot bleeding, the raw muscles restitching together as its Edict forced them to cooperate despite the pain and the blood. Or maybe rather, because of it, the Edict seemed to love the sensation. Right now, the Bull was lowering its head and preparing for a charge into the building, just as Colt had predicted.

A wild animal should be easy to fight. But why did this fill him with trepidation?

His blade sped toward the chosen land, and he’d part it in half, leaving nothing but a stump. Colt saw it in his head before it happened; the certainty in his blade reinforced his Cut Edict; it would divide this beast.

Colt spiraled toward it, each step precise despite his hammering heart. The world blurred as Movement carried him through space—there, then gone, then reappearing with his knife already descending toward the beast's right elbow. A clean cut there would cripple it, if he could just—

But this wasn’t just a beast.

The Minotaur shifted—pivoting to throw its horns in line with the attack even as Colt sped through the air with Movement. As he landed, the blade connected with bone. The two Edicts warred together as the monster gave a surge of anger as it protested him.

It had planned for his ambush.

Colt weaved his Edict thicker, pushing it through his blade with the force of a river, cramming every little bit of Cut that he could into the swing.

Sparks of red and black erupted where the Edicts clashed—Cut and Movement straining against the raw primal force of Savage and Gore. Reality itself seemed to crack around the point of contact, the air growing thick and heavy as universal laws fought for dominance.

Around them, the laws of reality began to warp—everything aside from these four contesting and dominant laws fled as if scared they might be hit in the crossfire. Colt’s focus narrowed, color bled away from his vision as he felt the contact point between his blade’s edge and that awful horn. He weaved his Edicts together, and shoved with as much might as he could, feeling his Soul ache and strain with the effort like a torn muscle.

Before, with his simple dagger, this had been enough force to shatter it into thousands of pieces.

Its feet skidded as it was pushed back, and Colt capitalized on that, yanking its movement and amplifying it—in a second, the Minotaur crashed against the building, its back pressed firmly to the brick. Stealing its ability to maneuver. 

Even getting it there though, was an act without much merit.

Still, the point where his blade met the horn was at a standstill. It was like a siege engine against a castle. He kept battering down the walls of dominance that made up the two merged Edicts with his own, and the Bull didn’t want to give. And that cold fear in Colt welled further, wondering if he wasn’t enough for this.

“Damn you!” Colt yelled, sweat and pain starting to mount. They were becoming conduits, both of them fully giving to their Edicts to try to press their will on the world. The strain taxed him to the fullest extent he could manage.

The physical reality was his muscles straining, both hands wrapped around the grip of his knife as it deadlocked against a horn; the Minotaur tried twisting and throwing his weapon blade off, but it failed. All the while, the Edicts erupted with a force of weird black and red sparks from where their two weapons contested. 

Colt felt fear run another cold shock through him. He wasn’t enough; everyone relied on him, and he was failing here.

On another level, though, the Edicts wrestled. Here, there was far more wrapping—an ebb and flow of will as both tried to take control of the situation and press upon the world the reality of their laws.

Colt could feel it. Could feel both of their own will begin to be subsumed by the monsters they were fighting with. The Edicts themselves were starting to get involved. The little bit of Movement that Colt had mastered was now attracting the beast deep within the sea; he felt it welling, felt it vying for control. Promising that if he gave it everything, it would win him the fight. 

Colt’s fear surged in response, both in his failure to finish this fight with those relying on him and the knowledge that if he gave in to Movement, he was over.

…Then there was the second whisper. A voice the darkness, the edge of the contesting willpowers in the fight of Edicts. Cut. It said that this was simple. That this had become more than it ever should be.

Cutting was easy.

Divide.

Whereas Movement threatened to dominate, he felt a refined nobility to Cut. It was the weapon of nobility. It could be precise. It could be wild. But it was a force that wanted to serve him.

If only he understood it better.

Colt saw the beast’s eyes as they struggled, saw as it made its decision easy. Its muscles rippled, and its roars grew pained. It was trying to give in to its Edicts. It just didn’t have any sort of control. Couldn’t reach as deep.

To defeat it, he had to let go and give in to Cut.

He rallied against it, crying out futilely, knowing that if he gave in, that if he crested this next wall, he would be changed forever. It was inevitable now, on this battlefield in the midst of a war, he saw clearly what would happen.

Yet as he was now, his blade wasn’t enough. Fear was cold and hot, running and driving him in a moment of pure adreneline.

His friends were approaching even now. If he didn’t do this, he’d fail them. He’d fail New Nashville. He’d fail himself.

There was a choice. He had to make it.

Colt gave in to his first Edict and let Cut wield him, and it grew to something bigger than ever before—he felt a moment of disconnection from his body as the Edict ran through his veins, burning its way through him. 

Movement recoiled as he made the unexpected decision; the knife broke off from the horn, pulling away from the clash.

As Cut took control, Colt felt it reshape him from within. His muscles burned not with strain but with a cold precision, each fiber aligning to serve the Edict's purpose. The knife in his hand became less a tool and more an extension of the universal law itself.

Then, in the blink of the eye, with the power of Movement, it lashed out at the legs, sending a wave of death—only this time it wasn’t invisible. Cut wasn’t the same as it had been seconds before.

It was a wave of gold.

Before the Minotaur could adjust, the knife was back there again, fighting directly against the horn. The bone began to crack as it cut into the beast's weapon an inch, right as the wave of gold hit the monster Knee’s.

Colt felt Cut relinquish control back to him and then felt something inside sever.

To go further, to take his Edict further and past the mortal wall, he’d given something away. A trade. The fear he felt was gone. The worry of death and failure disappeared.

His blade formed a golden edge, and it cut through the horn bit by bit. Below, the golden wave slashed into the Minotaur’s legs, spilling blood as it desperately split its attention between the two attacks and lost the war on two fronts.

At the same time that he chopped its legs off, he cut through the horn—spilling black blood around them in a splash.

Where the golden waves passed, reality itself seemed to part, leaving clean divisions in brick and stone that would never quite heal. Each clash of Edicts left the air crystallized with competing laws, fragments of universal order scattered like broken glass.

The Minotaur crashed into the ground, its arms flailing as it tried to grab at its legs.

A blast of water shot them; Julia rounded the corner, her eyes wild as she aimed her staff at the monster—Nick was there too, along with a trio of cops.

Sarah came in last, her face filled with shock and fear.

Colt’s heart hammered away in his chest, his body slick with sweat. He looked at the creature as black blood spilled out over the ground, its deadly claws scratching in the air as once more its cowl of Savagery began to wrap around it, demanding it carry out this fight to the end.

This time, though, he couldn’t even feel a trace of fear. Couldn’t feel it at all in his chest as the monster pulled itself by the claws towards him like something out of a horror movie.

He took it in with a cold analysis, his body barely cooperating after the expenditure. Nate was there, saying something in his ear, but he didn’t listen.

No.

There was still a job to finish. He did it not with fear of survival this time but a noble calling.

Colt wrapped his knife with a golden edge, the Edict of Cut now a physical, tangible thing, and he moved forward, dodging the clumsy strikes of an animal as it tried to rip his legs off from below.

Once he was at the Minotaur’s side, he slashed down, sending his golden wave of death into the monster’s shoulder, ripping through it in a few seconds, cleaving through its Edict as it tried to protect itself against him. It was futile.

The arm came off, and he kicked it away.

He went to the other side and ripped that off, too, with a slice.

The last cut had him gasping for breath—he pulled back from the monster as it roared, its body twitching, trying to drag itself toward him and bite him to death now. It never gave up. A beast purely dedicated to the art of killing and death.

A bubble of water surrounded the thing, surging to life out of nothing. 

The blue-haired girl got between Colt and the oncoming remainder of an enemy after sealing it, “You can rest now, man. Jesus. That was brutal. I felt it from the apartment,” Julia said, her staff glowing as the Minotaur tried to Gore her water wall.

Unfortunately, it just simply didn’t have the leverage to be effective. Its horn broke through the wall of water, but it could scarcely drag itself the rest of the way through the barrier.

Colt didn’t respond. His mouth didn’t want to work. It tasted like blood—he looked up at the moon, leering at them from above. That fight made him realize just how truly small they were. Man, beast… It didn’t matter. In the context of these universal powers, they were flinging around; they were like little playthings.

Notifications flooded his vision as he let his friends and the backup groups take care of the rest of the situation.

———

 You have gained 3 points of Soul!

Olympic Physique (Basic) has gained a level!

Olympic Physique (Basic) has gained a level!

Soul And Mind Fortitude (Intermediate) has gained a level!

Soul And Mind Fortitude (Intermediate) has gained a level!

Thread Weaver (Basic) has gained a level!

Thread Weaver (Basic) has reached level 10! This skill has advanced to Thread Weaver (Intermediate)! As this is now at the (Intermediate) level, weaving two Edicts has become easier, and weaving three edicts has become slightly manageable.

Knives/Daggers Proficiency (Intermediate) has gained a level!

Knives/Daggers Proficiency (Intermediate) has reached level 20! This skill has advanced to Knives/Daggers Proficiency (Advanced)! As this is now at the (Advanced) level, it has increased from an additional 10% Damage to an additional 20% damage with this weapon type.

Your understanding of the Edict Cut has evolved. Cut (Greater) has broken through the earthly threshold and become Cut (Superior)

———

Colt blankly took in the notifications as his friends moved, his body strained to the point of failure. He parsed the achievements but couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate them. His friends didn’t seem to have noticed either, wrapping up some completely in damage control.

The notifications meant nothing compared to the hollow space inside him where fear had lived. He'd traded away something fundamental, and though the golden edge of Cut thrummed with newfound power, Colt wondered what else he might have to sacrifice before this was over. What would Movement demand? What would his next Edict?

What was he becoming?