Chương 54: 2 Raft Town

<<Name: Antonio Marco Vitriol>> <<Race: Human (Derivative)>> <<Class: Vector Mongoose>> <<Rank: Paradise Cousin>> <<Lvl: User-1; Martial-10>> <<Total: 11>> <<Mana: 55>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 8 Will (WIS) — 6 Focus (INT) — 6 Resilience (CON) — 8 Grace (DEX) — 9 Cunning (CHA) — 6 Snakes think they're safe in tall grass; they believe they're invisible while motionless. Venom. Scales. Hunger. They believe themselves to be hunters. They're predictable.

Seats scraped against the splintered tavern floor as three Bloodwake Exploits settled into their places, each hunched over their tankards.

"Why are we here, Brannik?" Jex asked, glancing about the cramped taproom, his dark grey face twisted in disgust. His wide, Feykin eyes, evolved for subterranean nests, would work better in the tenebrous light than any of the other patrons'.

"What, the drinks at the Bent Hoist too expensive for you?" The man across from him scowled, an expression the burns on his face accentuated.

"Idiot," Brannik hissed.

"The Bent Hoist is where we usually drink." Jex sipped, grimaced, then frowned at his stein.

"That's because the Bent Hoist doesn't have oil floating in their rum." To the Derk-Feykin's side, Coalvein Mara snickered. Coalvein's charcoal-crusted face shield extended up from his brow, ending in jagged points. The Vulcan was a brawler, and the highest level of the three. A faint blur around his body betrayed the system ward that shielded him. That was going to be a problem.

"Idiots," Brannik hissed, his voice sere.

"They say he's in Raft Town."

"Good," Coalvein grunted, a full head and shoulder taller than the other two.

"Let's squeeze the runt. I'm not going to hide in ash holes like this." At the bar, a pair of squat, thick Dock Trolls burst into an argument, one accusing the other of misplacing his saw. Murmured conversation drifted from a table of Goblins by a soot-clouded window, and a trio of Orcs at the table near the door watched the room. Brannik's hands tightened around his tankard.

"He killed Red Barker." The other two went suddenly still, all humor draining from their expressions.

"How?" Jex demanded.

"Isn't Barker level twenty or something?"

"Twenty-four," Brannik murmured.

"The Mongoose burned an entire warehouse, caught two Dread Knights in the flames, too. He's hunting Exploits." Jex cursed, knife ears twitching.

"So what, a disgruntled vigilante indiscriminately targeting Exploits?"

"Indiscriminately, no," Brannik said.

"He's on the warpath, targeting those of us who've worked with Vitriol."

"Puppetmaster?" Coalvein snorted. Jex interpreted Brannik's expression.

"Wait. Brannik, you're working for Puppetmaster?" The man nodded slowly, face pale.

"Vitriol has become Krathic-Thar's new favorite pet. Been working on something big since the thing at Highwater Cay."

"What's he doing?" Jex asked, leaning in.

"I'll send you an encrypted chat with the details," Brannik said, scanning the room suspiciously.

"But—Fel Rock."

"That's a Paradise Island now," Jex said, voice barely over a whisper.

"What could Puppetmaster possibly be doing there?"

"Not here," Brannik hissed.

"Paranoid," Coalvein said. He drank, grimaced, then slid the cup aside, no longer interested.

"If your Mongoose were so dangerous, why is he always hiding?" I stood, tugging the scarf down from my face.

"Who says I'm hiding?" The susurrus died immediately, plunging the tap room to silence. The Bloodwake agents turned to me, eyes fixed and bodies locked. Chairs scooted as the goblins vacated their table. Two of them dragged one who'd passed out. The Docktrolls grunted as they shifted off their stools and gathered their tool bags. The room emptied, the bystanders rushing between us with heads lowered. Finally, the door closed, leaving mostly empty tables.

The Orcs near the entrance merely leaned on their elbows, content to catch a free show. I scooped my tankard, plucking my chair with my off-hand as I dragged it to their table.

"So." I tipped the cup back, wetting my lips for the show of it. My chair settled at their table, and I slumped into it.

"What were you saying about my father? Something about Fel Rock?" Brannik's temple bulged, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Coalvein leaned forward, grinning.

"Pretty stupid of you, boy. You're level eleven—not bad, but I have you beat, and there are three of us."

"That's assuming this gets violent," I said.

"I came for a conversation."

"A conversation like the one you had with Barker?" Brannik hissed, the cords in his neck bulging.

"Barker was rude," I said.

"He didn't want to talk."

"Who says we want to?" Jex demanded, hands sliding back towards the end of the table. He had two short swords ready for easy access. I shrugged.

"I'm just giving you the same opportunity I gave the others. You're welcome." Coalvein's smile deepened.

"What makes you so certain you'll win?" My eyes twitched towards the white letters hovering in my HUD. <<Passive Buff: Apex Pride: +1 Cunning(Cha); assumed victory>> Assumed victory—I currently couldn't conceive of a reality in which I lost to them. It wasn't logic, it wasn't even true. All fear sensors shut off and arrogance ramped to max; it did wonders for my confidence.

"I used to be a swashbuckler," I explained.

"A dueler. Honor, rules, fairness—" I chuckled, rubbing the rim of my cup with a finger.

"I don't fight fair anymore." My smile vanished, not even a scintilla of humor remaining.

"Tell me. How are your drinks?" Red icons flashed over each of them. <<Debuff: Poisoned>> Coalvein reacted first, and an Emberlock Piercer winked into his hand, a shaft of trajectory light from the barrel painting my chest. I threw myself aside as he jerked the trigger. A basalt piercer round spat past me, drilling deep into the wall. I didn't allow them a chance to recover. A cutlass flashed into my palm, and I jerked the blade across the table's legs.

The table dropped, crashing into their knees as they tried to scramble away. I came up quickly, seizing a handful of Brannik's hair and slamming his face into his tankard. Jex cursed and vanished in a flash of churning shadow, like a squid's ink. He melted back into existence from the darkest corner of the taproom. A triangular cylinder on Coalvein's pistol rolled as he fired its final two rounds. I leaped, corkscrewing through the air as his rounds snapped past me.

Trajectory shafts beamed into me from behind, highlighting where Jex had thrown four knives. I kicked into the open space, triggering my Air Step. My boot met an invisible solid surface, and I lunged laterally across the room. The daggers zipped past, sinking into the wood. Then they ignited with system light and drilled deeper from a delayed second impact. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Twisting in the air, I landed on a table in a crouch.

Coalvein's Emberlock Piercer blinked away, and a much larger Crucible-9 flashed into both of his hands, tri-revolving barrels sweeping at me. I sprinted around the room, boots pushing off invisible Air Step platforms. With every footfall, a single mana point ticked down. The Vulcan cackled as his Crucible thundered, each shot blasting a fist-sized crater into the wall. The third barrel revolved to the top, then fired, smoking as it went dry.

I rolled sideways, both boots slamming against an Air Step, and I lunged at Coalvein. A saber blinked into my offhand, and I spun, becoming the axis of a cyclone of blades trailing white arcs. My cutlass sheared clean through the Crucible. Absolute shame. It was a fine weapon. The saber followed, impacting his neck. A system shield flashed where blade met flesh, and the saber rebounded as if striking a cast iron cauldron.

I cursed, redirecting myself with an Air Step as trajectory shafts projected Jex's flying daggers. My gaze snapped to the Derk Feykin. His blades embedded in the counter, flashed, then punched through as if driven by a second blow from an unseen hammer. Those were a problem. Brannik clutched a hand to his bleeding face as he scrambled behind Coalvein. Shadows coalesced around Jex. He hissed, lunging. The silhouette of a scimitar darted in each shadowy hand.

"Enough!" I hissed, bounding off an Air Step. So long as my feet didn't touch the ground, my Aerial Combatant feat strengthened my body and sharpened my mind. My saber winked away, and a dragon bolt pistol snapped into its place in my palm. The Derk recoiled. Too late. I pulled the trigger. Not the primary trigger in front, but the little one hidden behind it. A tiny tube under the primary barrel hissed as a jet of flame spat free.

He shrieked as the fire devoured his jet-black cloak that the light failed to penetrate. Thrashing and howling, he sought the shadows, but being a light source himself, he found nowhere to hide. Coalvein waved a hand, casting something on himself, and the poisoned debuff vanished. I pulled the primary trigger, and the pistol kicked. Jex's head snapped back, and he fell. I landed on my feet, but stumbled. A trajectory shaft lit me up, and I flinched as Coalvein slammed into my side.

My shoulder met the wall hard, and a flash of pain twisted through the joint. I swung, but the Vulcan caught my wrist and slammed it against the wall, sending my sword clattering to the ground. My chest heaved, but a warm, coal-crusted hand clamped around my neck, cutting off my air. Coalvein grinned, pressing me tight to the wall. My Apex pride buff winked away, and reality hit. What was I doing? Me against three killers at my level or higher? The panic hit in full force.

I planted my knee into his gut, and he grunted before rearing me back and slamming me against the wall.

"Is this your scary Mongoose, Brannik?" he snapped.

"Doesn't look so tough to me." Brannik picked himself up from the ground, pistol cocked in one hand.

"I'm going to bring your head to the Bloodwake Tyrant boy," the Vulcan hissed, his sharp knuckles scraping my jaw.

"Can't wait to see Puppetmaster's face." A slow clap from the doorway sounded, and they turned their heads. The pressure on my throat eased, allowing for a choked gasp. An Orc darkened the doorway, lean and trim, shortened tusks suggesting mixed ancestry along the line. His mohawk swept to one side of his shaved head, and his breastplate left his toned arms exposed.

"Good, Users," he purred.

"Burn through your precious mana for me." The three Orcs at the table rose at once, eyes going wide. Coalvein shifted.

"Morgan, you have no business here."

"Oh, is that so?" the Orc asked, and I finally noticed the heat waves drifting off his shoulders.

"As it happens that—" his brow crooked as his gaze flickered across the scales on my cheek and jaw.

"Boy," he decided, "is worth ten thousand Bloodwake Drakcrowns." He wiped ash off his eyelashes.

"That makes him my business."

"Contract's over," Coalvein growled, tightening his grip and pressing harder as he felt me shift.

"He's already in Bloodwake custody." Morgan chewed something, nodding slowly.

"He is now, that I can see." My fingers pulled at Coalvein's grip, but it was iron-tight; my vision started to darken.

"Thing is," he said, and both Bloodwake Exploits tensed.

"You're worth fifteen thousand Paradise treasury notes yourself." A grin spread across his face.

"I don't care what side; a contract's a contract. And I'm looking at two of them." I pried his fingers open just enough to draw half a breath. I craned my head, getting a good enough look to scan the bounty hunter. <<Name: Morgan Tallyman>> <<Race: Half-Orc>> <<Class: None>> <<Rank: Bounty Hunter>> <<Lvl: None>> <<Total: Not synced to Ourabora>> <<Equivalent Level: Martial-16 Physic-9>> Brannik whimpered and backed away. Coalvein turned back to me, coal-crusted lips curling.

"Listen, kid. We'll need to take him together if either of us is walking out of here alive." His grip loosened, and I gasped, the edges of my vision clearing at the intake of air. He stepped back, eyes locked on the bounty hunter. It took everything not to lunge for his throat. I read the other two Users' defensive postures. No—they understood the situation much better than I did.

"Morgan, we're with you," one of the Orcs by the table said as they unsheathed axes.

"Good," the bounty hunter purred, knocking ash from his eyelashes again.

"Prove yourselves, and I might cut you a slice of the bounty."

"So, Morgan," Coalvein cracked his neck.

"They say you don't stay dead. I've always wanted to put that to the test." I stooped and plucked my cutlass from the floorboards. The bounty hunter's hand came to hover over a carbine that was slung across the back of his hips. Optics and pressure valves gleamed on the weapon—Gnomish make, and highly modular. The room held its breath. I scanned Morgan, then glanced at the Exploits—waiting to see who'd move first. Nothing. Then. Chaos. A pair of Emberlock tri-shooters blinked into Coalvein's hands.

Morgan had his carbine tight to his shoulder just as fast. Lagging, I summoned a brass cartridge pistol. Trajectory shafts lanced across the room, and a dozen rounds discharged all at once. I shot at Morgan, but he rolled a bracer with an arcane sigil etched across it, and three bullets slammed into a force shield. I threw myself sideways as his return shots splintered tables and shattered chairs. I hit the ground and rolled, staying low. The three Orc patrons, content to observe until this point, zeroed in on me.

A war cry ripped across the room as their heavy boots pounded the planks. I gritted my teeth. This wasn't how this was supposed to go down. The Orc in the lead wound up, and a trajectory arc shot out in front of his blade, painting the path of his strike. It wasn't precognition. I couldn't see the future. If he shifted the strike under tension, the projection would change fast. But I saw his vector and understood. I slammed my cutlass into the wall, slipped forward, and angled my head to the side.

The blade whistled past my ear, nearly close enough to shave me. The Orc stumbled past, overextending himself, and I donkey kicked him in the rear. He yelped in surprise; the cry cutting off as he fell across the blade fixed in place. I arched back, a second axe following a trajectory arc as it embedded itself in the wall. Reaching back, I whisked my cutlass from the wall, cutting left then right. The second Orc tumbled as two new gashes opened across his gut.

I reared to thrust through the final one, but a sharp trajectory shaft painted my side, and I threw myself back. Morgan fired his carbine at me one-handed, a rapier dancing in his offhand as he fended off Coalvein, who also attacked with a straight blade. The carbine spun in the bounty hunter's hand, lever ratcheting in a fresh round by the time the handle snapped back into his palm. With split attention, he trained on me. A pistol discharged, this time from Brannik. The bullet struck Morgan's side.

There was no blood—smoke and cinders bellowed from the wound instead, heat shimmering the air as if he carried a forge beneath his ribs. Seizing the distraction, Coalvein threw himself backward. A full swivel cannon blinked into existence before him, its iron stand slamming on the floorboards. My jaw dropped. How many inventory slots did that take? Morgan cursed. Coalvein grinned as he swung the artillery piece at the bounty hunter. Pressurized springwork cylinders built into Morgan's greaves thundered.

The floor exploded beneath his boots. A shockwave ripped through the tavern as his feet blasted craters into the planks and launched him upward. Coalvein slammed a fist on the cannon's sparker. The tavern door disintegrated from a blast of grapeshot. Only Morgan wasn't there. The bounty hunter's Shockstride Greaves had already hurled him into the rafters. Morgan struck the ceiling hard enough to splinter beams, and he dropped in a controlled fall as the swivel gun's barrel was already smoking uselessly below.

I was punching above my weight here. The final full-blooded Orc roared as he slammed his axe down in a double-handed, overhead strike. The axe slammed into the rafters, and the trajectory arc cut off abruptly as the blade embedded in thick timber. I buried my cutlass into his chest up to the hilt. The barrel of Brannik's pistol glowed with arcane runes and sent a barrage of arcane strikes at the bounty hunter. Morgan hurled something at the center of the room. It ticked. Brannik cursed as he dove.

Coalvein threw up a ward. I flipped a table and ducked. Windows blasted outward and floorboards bucked. My table jumped, slamming me into the wall. I shook my head, dazed, and snatched my cutlass as I came slowly to my feet. Swirling dust choked the air; every chair and stool concussed to kindling. Coalvein sagged wards, flickering. Brannik clutched his ribs, teeth gritted in pain. Morgan flicked his bracer, and his force shield winked away.

"Now," he said, voice faint on my ringing ears. A pair of manacles hit the ground at his feet.

"Why don't you all be good boys and put these bracelets on for me." The Vulcan growled, his chest heaving, and he glared back at me.

"Pull your weight, Mongoose! We'll kill each other after this." I summoned my saber in my offhand, and both blades ignited.

"I'm killing all three of you." My words didn't carry the confidence they had when my Apex Pride was up. Tex, even I didn't believe it. Morgan's lever-action carbine was trained on me, his rapier rising towards Coalvein. Brannik glanced at the blasted doorway and ran. A spike of alarm shot through me. He was the one working directly for my father. I didn't have time for a standoff.

"You're letting him go?" I asked, irritated. Morgan shrugged.

"His bounty's negligible." My eyes narrowed as I scanned the exterior walls.

"He might not be your quarry, but he's mine."

"Tough," Morgan said, voice even.

"Manacles, now."

"Take the Paradise's notes," I said, flexing my left hand. The saber blinked away, and a hand sickle replaced it.

"You can find me for my bounty when I have more time." I hurled the sickle out of the shattered window. It spun once before embedding deep in the opposite building's beam. My fingers flexed. A gold filament shot from my fist and snapped tight. I offered a salute with my saber.

"Got to go." The spectral line reeled and the world blurred as I shot through the window. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 02: 01: 02: 11: 02: 21>>