Chương 25: FRAGILITY OF THE MASSES

T'balt didn't feel like taking the scenic route to the Church's guarding gate. He leaped over the balcony and plummeted some thirty feet to the ground. But just before he landed, he used the psychic loot on his shoes to break the impact of the fall. He landed perfectly without a scratch. All the men saw this, which unintentionally gave him the gravitas that Arthur always told him he was missing. He walked up to the commotion and the group of strangers.

He'd called the block on any more people coming into the church as a way to keep Monan out. He didn't know how he would strike, and maybe that did make T'balt a little overly paranoid, but he couldn't be too safe. Any wrong move and everything would be reset all over again. A life wasted. Nothing gained but the pain of death.

"Who wanted to speak with me?" he asked out loud. Each one of the men at the gate could be a world champion bodybuilder with their size and bulk. T'balt would've been intimidated in a past life, but size and bulk didn't mean as much in the world of loot. But he couldn't tell yet if any of them were armed with any.

"That would be me, sir." One of the men stepped forward. He was halfway between tan and dark-skinned, with obviously dyed blonde short hair. The whole of his appearance looked unnatural, but it was a distinct look. One that he could've sworn he'd seen before. He was dressed like an athlete on an off day, in sweatpants, a tank top, and a long windbreaker. It left plenty of room for him to show off his large stature. He stepped up to T'balt immediately, dwarfing him.

T'balt wanted to back away but knew he had an image to keep up around the believers, who were steadily watching the confrontation. But he didn't know if this was going to lead to a fight. So he mentally prepared because all he knew was that this event was yet to be on the timeline. The large man suddenly fell to his knees, slamming his head hard to the ground. T'balt could feel the earth thud with his weight as the man was now within kissing distance of his shoes. He couldn't avoid leaping back then.

He was caught by utter surprise.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir." The man's voice boomed even from that position on the ground.

"But please give us shelter."

"What?" Then the other nine men followed suit, heads to the ground, bowing.

"Please give us shelter."

"Umm…"

"Have mercy," the lead one said.

"We are just a traveling group of wandering souls, far from home with nowhere to go. We've been seeking help, and you're the first community we've come across in days. So please." T'balt was still at a loss, not sure how to respond, but the man just kept selling.

"I know." He stood with a gargantuan smile and huge, off-color eyebrows.

'We'll protect you. How would you like a group of hunky Adonises as your personal guard?" All of them seemed to strike poses, flexing like this had suddenly turned into a swimsuit competition. Some of the female believers started fawning.

"And it ain't just looks. Check this out." He thumbed up one of the other men, who proceeded to rip their shirt off again, exposing more bulging muscles that were practically pulsating with his heartbeat. The leader looked back with a raised eyebrow, and T'balt wondered if he was supposed to be impressed.

"Wait for it." Then the men went to hug a nearby tree. And suddenly his eyes began pulling out of his head. The muscles pulsed even larger than before as the man's feet planted under the tree. He then lifted the whole thing slowly out of the ground and shoulder-pressed it over his head. Then he proceeded to do a small workout with a whole oak tree.

"See that. These are the strongest guards you'll ever have." After a few reps, the man then tossed the tree up in the air like he was tossing a pizza, and the smugness overtook him until the tree didn't come back down. Then they all realized that T'balt was holding it there, just stretching out his arm.

"Strength isn't everything you know." He slowly lowered the tree back into the ground and replaced the dirt as all of them tried to regain their composure. The leader saw this and got back on his knees to beg.

"We're sorry, sir. Please forgive us." T'balt wondered how desperate they really were to be acting like this. He considered for a moment. He supposed it wouldn't be a bad thing to have a group like them protecting the church. They seemed capable, and that tree display proved they had a basic understanding of loot.

"Must've been a strength-enhancing loot. I'd put that in the same class as speed loot. I think I'll call it an augmentor-class loot," he thought to himself, working his mindmap for the capabilities of loot. He didn't sense any malice in them. Not that he had a great sense of character. But he felt like he could trust them. He was expecting a frontal attack from Monan. So he figured these guys were safe, even if they were a little rambunctious.

He wondered if they came around in the last iteration, and he just didn't hear about it. Maybe Monan turned them away, and because T'balt was too busy sulking, he just missed this event.

"Alright, fine," he said, knowing full well there was hardly a world where he'd even have the gall to say no, when they were begging like they were.

"You can stay." The man shot to his feet, frantically shaking T'balt's hand.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you. You won't regret it."

"Yeah, sure."

"From now on, you're under the personal protection of the great Cannon Valkyr." He laughed with a quake that rumbled everyone's bellies.

"Wait." T'balt paused.

"As in the pro wrestler?" Then the large man smiled, teeth twinkling, eyes twinkling, nose ring twinkling with a thumbs up that managed to somehow twinkle as well.

"The very same." As it turned out, the whole group was a band of traveling wrestlers that happened to be on the road when Zero Day started. They were all riding on the tour bus when the roads were blocked by giant beasts and elemental demons. They'd been on the run ever since, looking for a stronghold. They could protect themselves. It seemed their main problem was keeping enough food for men of their stature.

They clearly weren't hunters despite many of them having a background in some sort of mixed martial art or amateur wrestling before going pro. T'balt remembered watching Cannon on TV when he was younger. The perpetually-over good guy, always preaching about standing up for what he believes in. A guy built on hard work and respect, who leaned over a little hard into the trash-talking, partying lifestyle but still managed to be an inspiration to kids everywhere.

Now he was glued to T'balt like a personal servant, following him everywhere around the church and intimidating anyone who showed the slightest bit of aggression. But overall, he was a nice guy when he wasn't loud and abrasive. The type to hold the door for old ladies and wait for his guys to grab meals before eating himself. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. T'balt still couldn't believe that he was here and now completely under his command.

Just because he called himself a Redeemer. Cannon was to his right, and to his left, weighing in at 100 lbs, was Acelin. Who always seemed to have a hold of T'balt's pant leg. These functioned as his two flanks. His Things 1 and 2. And between them, he was almost never alone. T'balt wanted to clean out the parking lot of the mess of scattered cars. If anyone had a working vehicle in there, it would be impossible to get out. Many of them were crushed or unoperable, or the owners were no longer around to use them.

So he figured clearing up the space would only be a help. And the wrestlers were invaluable for that, even though they spent more time showboating than working. He even saw Cannon lift a whole truck on his own and toss it over the wall like a javelin without any regard for where it might land.

"See that, boys," he proclaimed.

"The strength of a wrestling hero!"

"Yeah, right." Acelin jumped on his back, making Cannon leap around like he was suddenly being attacked by monkeys.

"It's just a loot that makes you look stronger than you are." He started laughing at the unintentional bull ride he was suddenly on, having a good time. But Cannon took the kid off his back and put him on his shoulders, figuring he'd like it better up there. Acelin looked around, feeling like he was suddenly 12 feet tall.

"But I'd be strong with or without the loot. I'm sure you've seen me lift men the size of mountains on my shoulders before I slap down their candy asses for the 3 count."

"Mm." Acelin leaned like he could control Cannon's movement from up there.

"I've never seen you before in my life."

"Seriously. Not even once? My face is on a ton of billboards. Kids toys. Video games. No one can deny the cannon buster. Even Master T'balt has heard my name, I know."

"Eh…" T'balt groaned at him using the term master.

"Maybe I have, but not since I was a kid."

"Isn't wrestling fake anyway?" Acelin pointed out. Cannon grabbed him off his shoulders and held him like a man staring into a doll.

"Wrestling is an art. Like watching your favorite movie or cartoon. You don't complain that those are fake." That's when the two started bickering about the legitimacy of modern wrestling. Cannon explained the intricacies of the pro wrestling industry to a 13-year-old who didn't seem too interested. That was until Cannon equated it to live-action role-playing and demonstrated a couple of wrestling moves to the kid.

"So you're pretending to fight to tell a story."

"Exactly!" Cannon exclaimed, happy that the kid finally got it after minutes of explaining.

"But the art is making it look real, and sometimes it is. You can't always block the impact of a 300-pound man landing on you off the top rope. But that's the pain of the art form. We're fighting, and we're not fighting. And the moves look way cooler than they would in a real fight."

"I guess I get it. Doesn't sound any different than a circus, though." T'balt was happy that the two were now bonding instead of bickering. But he wouldn't be saved from that for long. They came across another set of bickering, this one more intense and involving an entire group of believers. It was surrounding Ellie and Arthur. T'balt fought his way through the crowd to see what it was about. But that was another one of the great uses of Cannon. When he showed up, a crowd just seemed to clear.

But he heard the whispers.

"The Redeemer."

"he's coming."

"He'll set things straight."

"I don't understand, Arthur. Why are you acting so stubborn?" Ellie was saying in front of everyone.

"I do not expect you to understand, child." T'balt stepped in front of them both, which deflated some of the tension.

"What's going on here?" They both turned to him.

"Arthur's been hogging loot. He's been collecting it and not distributing it to the people who need it."

"It's true," the people in the crowd shouted.

"He's hiding the gifts. And he won't tell where." T'balt looked to the man.

"Arthur. What are they talking about?" But the man just turned his head, electing not to speak.

"You never wanted any loot before. Why now?" The crowd chimed in.

"He wants to hog it all to himself."

"He's a thief."

"He's gatekeeping." T'balt calmed them all down, confused about how easily they all would gang up on this man who still didn't speak. T'balt turned to Ellie.

"I don't know. I'm just trying to play peacekeeper. He won't tell me why," she said.

"All the loot we get on our expeditions, we've been giving to him so you can bestow it to people. He said it's what you ordered. But when he was questioned about a particular loot, it had turned out that he never gave it to you. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

"I didn't give any orders like that," T'balt said.

"Arthur…" But he stayed quiet, only muttering inaudible words to himself.

"You know how important the loot is for us. We need it to defend ourselves. Why would you hide it from me?"

"He's making a mockery of the lords' gifts. Your gifts, Redeemer." A small voice in the crowd. He didn't see who said it.

"We should raid his office," someone else said.

"Lock him up until he tells us where he's hiding it." Another shouted. T'balt looked at them all to settle them down, but the masses were in hunting mode. They called for something to be done, and their words were all directed right at T'balt. They really were calling for T'balt to imprison him. It seemed too far. Like if only he'd gotten the chance to speak to the abbot, he'd be able to get to the bottom of this. But the crowd was starting to move, like they were on the cusp of a riot.

T'balt didn't know what to do. Ellie grabbed onto T'balt's arm. Her eyes pleaded.

"We can find another way. We don't have to go that far, do we?" T'balt aimed back at Arthur with pleading eyes. He just wanted him to say something. g"Do what you must," the abbot said, understanding the predicament he was in. The situation was far beyond their circle of control. If T'balt didn't do something now, something bad would happen. But there was so much hatred aimed at Arthur because of this. Why was he being so passive about it?

"No, you don't have to," Ellie pleaded back.

"What will you do?" Cannon asked, leaning over to him.

"I don't know. I just need a moment to think." There were too many voices saying so many different things. How could he make a decision? How could he know what this would mean? He hadn't seen it before. He didn't know which was the right answer, knowing that a false decision could lead to the death of these people. If he arrested Arthur, he would ease the crowd and find out what all Arthur's been hiding. But he'd likely make an enemy of Arthur, who he was sure he needed in the coming fight.

If he didn't, would the believers still listen to him? Would they start calling him a false prophet? Would Arthur get hurt? He remembered thinking that dying was less painful than decisions like these. He wanted to curl up in a corner, go back to his room, and finish his boss battle in peace. Anything would be easier than this. If they could turn on Arthur, they could just as easily turn on T'balt. Like he turned on Monan.

"Quiet!" The deep voice echoed over them all, stilling the room with the puff of Cannon's chest. They all focused their attention on T'balt and the others.

"Then think," Cannon said. And then he could've kissed the man for that. It was like he had sensed the unease forming in him, and with the white noise of the crowd away, at least he didn't feel crazy anymore. But he looked around at the eyes waiting for his decision. He wanted to make the choice that would bring the least amount of conflict. Like he always had done. So he looked at Arthur once more.

"Will you tell us where you've hidden the loot?" Arthur simply shook his head.

"Then take him to the boiler room. Lock him up there." There was no power in the words, but the room was so quiet then that Cannon heard them clearly. The crowd started raising their voices again. Poking at the abbot, telling him why he deserved it, even though T'balt knew he didn't. They all surely knew he didn't. Especially Ellie, who couldn't stand to watch and walked away from them all. T'balt did the same. That pit of misgiving was building within him.

He let the crowd take Arthur like it was some witch trial, and he couldn't watch either. He had to find someplace away from them. Someplace where he could be alone. He couldn't stand crowds. He hated them, and he missed the solitude of his bed. So he scrambled away from them all until he found the one place in the church he knew he wouldn't be bothered. Then he closed the door to the upstairs bedroom before sinking to the ground, eyes closed, heart erratic.

He tried to breathe and slow things down, but it didn't seem to work. He felt like he was on the brink of a panic attack.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe," he had to tell himself. But the command fell on deaf ears.

"Are you alright?" Then T'balt remembered why he never came upstairs. Chosa sat in the bed all alone in a borrowed nightgown, watching T'balt crumble before her. She knelt next to him with the smooth, loving voice that he always remembered from her.

"It's okay. It's okay now." He didn't know whether it was instinct or some clamoring grab at warmth that he hadn't had but desperately needed, but he buried himself in her arms.

"I can't do this, Chosa."

"It's okay." She petted his hair.

"I'm here now."