Chương 43: Executors

The egg-shaped man yelped loudly like a croaking toad.

"There's someone there!" The man pointed at Joel, shaking his finger.

"Who are you? How'd you get down here!? I didn't hear the lift."

"Calm yourself, Vargo. So someone snuck in like a rat," the bassy voice said, their heavy steps approaching.

"No point in running, show yourself." Joel gulped. With what these people had said, he was almost certain that Hottor was in there, being used as some strange consolation piece, so that meant going in either way. Still, he'd hoped for more time to formulate a plan, or that they'd depart from one another to provide a better opportunity to nab the dwarf back. Well, when quiet doesn't work… He kicked the door open before the steps got any closer.

It swung open even more dramatically than he'd anticipated, as the door crashed loudly against the wall. He tried to look cool and collected, so calm that none of this was a worry, as he stepped into the loading station. The room was lined with more pulleys and ropes, hanging off elevated platforms. More dusty crates and empty cages were found here. Joel wondered just how large this operation was.

Several feet away, near the cavernous part of the room and where the tunnel disappeared from, stood a massive man, his chiseled face beaming with a polite smile. He was plainly dressed in a tunic, trousers, and a meager cloak, but all of that did little to hide his immense frame, built like a giant linebacker. Torchlight reflected off his bald head, tattooed black in indiscernible patterns, which was made more menacing by the flanged mace that leaned against his shoulder.

There was something familiar about the imposing man, his pleasant and wide smile, but Joel doubted that he would've forgotten such a noticeable person. Nearly eclipsed behind the man, a hooded individual sat on a stacked crate — the one who had been Ifsra. Their cardinal cloak was wrapped around them and matched the red-white fox mask hiding their face. They were petite, closer to the Vargo individual in stature, and seemingly unarmed other than a small harp, whose stringed neck peeked over their shoulder.

As if they were bored, the masked figure kicked their legs, letting their feet swing, seemingly uninterested in Joel. Between Vargo and the masked individual was Hottor, bound and in one of the several cages here. Even excluding how tightly he was tied, the dwarf's state was awful. His nose had been smashed badly and his gagged mouth was bruised and swollen. Worse, Joel was certain they'd yanked out parts of Hottor's beard, now a patchy and blood crusted mess. Joel's lips twitched.

As if beating an old dwarf wasn't cruel enough. The simmering anger was almost enough to make Joel rush forward, ready to kick their heads off, but the confident look on the tattooed man's face made him hesitate. There was none of the unsure glances or shaking that the earlier thugs had. Not only that, beyond the spooked Vargo, was a tarped cage; its bars were large and rattling.

"I believe you took a wrong turn somewhere, boy," shouted the mace-wielding man. A little old to be called a boy, but alright.

"I've already taken out several of your gang. If you don't want to join them, I'd recommend standing down." Damn, he sounded like a superhero. Maybe that would scare them off. Joel stood a bit taller.

"No one needs to get hurt." A brief pause in the room was filled by booming laughter, the massive man slapping his own thigh in amusement. He bellowed on for a few moments until the laughs finally mellowed in a chuckle.

"There's little better than the self-assuredness that accompanies youth! And you got here unarmed? Hah! Impressive! No wonder you're so sure." Joel admitted he was feeling less sure every passing second, more so at how happy the man seemed.

"I was looking for a proper hangover cure. And, lo and behold, the Lord Emperor provides. You'll do, boy!" The wide grin was plastered across the formidable man's face.

"Do for what?"

"For a proper fight, what else?" The man tapped his mace's ridged head against the palm of his hand.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Vargo said, using his sleeve to wipe sweat off his brow.

"He might have help with him, maybe one of those lilacs." From his angle, Joel couldn't see the look that the giant man shot at Vargo, but it must have been scathing. It was enough to make the pudgy man gasp and shrink away, holding a hand out toward the covered cage. The masked Ifsra, still lackadaisical as they sat there, appeared unbothered.

"If you must," Ifsra said, their melodic voice felt calming.

"Though, I must say, it's not really fair play." Ifsra tilted their head towards Joel.

"Unarmed and all. Not to mention how little he is." Little? That was rich from them, considering Joel saw that he was the second biggest here.

"You think you can handle me?" Joel said, trying to exude the same confidence he was witnessing. Perhaps he needed to switch things up, that Vargo seemed frightened enough after all.

"I'm a Freewalker, you know? Tier…" Shit. His mind scrambled to remember what the categories were. Numbers? Letters? Or even colors? His pause was becoming too pronounced. He could feel himself turning red, as the blank expressions on the others' faces showed how poor his lie was faring.

"Tier high. I mean, I'm high tier." Tier high? Tier high? Wow, amazing! You absolute dingus.

"Right, well, you do bring up a good point." the giant continued, completely ignoring Joel's words. He tossed his mace aside, lightly onto a nearby crate, only for the weight of the weapon to smash through the wooden box. That wasn't good. The man dusted his hands together, pleased with himself. Turning to Joel, he raised his ham-sized fists.

"This is more fair, no?" Stolen novel; please report. It looked like he was going to have to fight for Hottor, in which case Joel appreciated the brute disarming himself. Joel took a light-footed boxer's form, hands held loose, and the tattooed man's smile brightened like a child on their birthday.

"I am Kell, from the tribe of Deth, Executor of the Dominion. Give me your name so that I do not forget to whom I offer the Lord Emperor's mercy," asked the giant man, still in his fighting stance. Ifsra's hooded head snapped back in exasperation.

"You half-wit. Why not just announce our presence from the rooftop while you're at it." Kell ignored them, eyes locked onto Joel.

"That information doesn't matter to the dead," he muttered, his deep voice taking an ominous tone. His smile subsided and a chill ran down Joel's back.

"But beating a person to death takes so long," Ifsra replied as if killing someone was a routine activity. Kell stretched his shoulders ambivalently.

"If the boy can dance for that long, I'll gratefully enjoy it." Okay, no one talks like this unless they are supremely certain in their abilities. Joel really hoped that Hux, Huckleberry, Pest, or anyone else, had already informed Al or Siv, and that the two were already fast on their way. Maybe he could run? He looked to Hottor and the dwarf stared back, trembling but hopeful. Joel already knew the decision he'd made and turned back to Kell. He'd done this song and dance before — he wasn't leaving without Hottor.

"Oh! Look at that glare, Ifsra," said Kell, his eyes almost gleaming back.

"The boy's got some guts." Ifsra didn't respond, continuing to look Joel's way as far as he could tell.

"You think you're the first one to throw a hard stare an Executor's way? You'll see why we were chosen to stand above all, chosen by the Lord Emperor's decree."

"You and your Lord Emperor, or whatever, can eat shit." The words leaped out of Joel's mouth before he could stop them. Kell's face darkened.

"Be careful with your words. I can make you choke them."

"Give it your best fucking shot." And Joel charged the giant. It was a cheap way to take initiative, but all's fair with slaving assholes. He'd have to jump to hit this mammoth of man, so he aimed his blow into Kell's abdomen. It was large enough of a target, so he shifted his weight into a kick. It was the way Kell hitched his hips that made Joel abandon his attack and jerked his head back while throwing himself into a slide.

A powerful hook whipped overhead, nearly grazing his cheek, a heavy blow that he might've taken his head off. He spun away, trying to create some distance, but Kell was there to match him and was already drawing back for another punch. Joel instinctively dodged again, slipping the second strike barely and spotting a slight opening in the giant man's guard. Just enough space to sneak a counter before the incoming third attack and break his rhythm. He fired off a jab, sharp and quick enough to disorient.

Kell caught his wrist mid-strike in a vice-like grip. Joel didn't have time to pull his arm back before he was hurtling through the air. He smashed into a crate, wood cracking against his back. The air was knocked out of him, and he groaned onto all fours before pulling himself back to his feet. [Damage taken. HP: 88%] Damn, the bastard was fast. And strong. And probably durable.

"You made it three blows," scoffed Kell, flicking the hand he'd caught Joel with.

"That means you're already among esteemed company."

"What's that?" It was obvious he was stalling but he didn't care. His back was throbbing and his vision was spinning. He just needed a goddamn second.

"Few people get up after the second, and most die to the third. You're strong. Perhaps you are a Freewalker after all." Kell looked at Joel like a bloodhound that had caught its favorite prey's scent.

"A Freewalker of the famed tier high?" Ifsra let out a mocking chuckle, a pretty sound, that made Joel blush. If he was clear enough to feel ashamed about his flub, he had the wherewithal to figure out how to beat this massive lunk. Contending with this supposed Executor in a match of strength would be suicidal. He'd been lucky that the massive man hadn't kept tossing and smashing him around. There wouldn't have been a way to escape that iron grasp.

Not only that, there were the other two, who thankfully were staying uninvolved in the fight. There was no guarantee it would remain that way.

"You act like you haven't seen me thump Freewalkers with more haste and when I was in worse condition. What about the ones we handled in the Republic? They folded like tablecloths." Kell wagged his finger at Joel.

"This one's a proper fighter." He looked towards his masked companion.

"A waste, no?"

"If you say so." Ifsra shrugged.

"He's got a sliver of skill, but this one's not going to flip. Look at his eyes."

"That true, young man? The Lord Emperor is generous to those that serve him loyally."

"Uh… maybe." There wasn't but Joel was still reeling from the throw and wanted all the time he could get. He needed to finish this fight as soon as possible. His [Martial Arts Proficiency] utilized his DEFTNESS and, according to the [Status] screen, that sat at 505. Well, he'd been looking for an excuse to maximize that anyway. [Ability Score Upgrades], [DEFTNESS +495], [Confirm]. He felt his leg's muscles ripple as his DEFTNESS hit its maximum limit of 1000.

The mind-muscle connection of every limb felt stronger, and his balance became easier. It wasn't that he'd nearly doubled the power of his attacks, he knew — no, felt — that there'd been diminishing returns on the stat upgrades. But he was faster. If he could catch this giant of a man unaware, in a single silencing shot, he could end this. No, he required more than that. To elevate the impact of his strike, he'd have to land a counter, one that would crash at full force.

"What do you seek?" Kell asked.

"Gold and glory? Women? Or men? All can be earned."

"Your Lord Emperor could kiss my ass." The Executor's eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed.

"In fact, your Lord Emperor can get fuc—" Kell barreled forward like a crazed beast, all his civility vanished. Exactly what was needed. With speed that surprised himself, Joel blasted forward and smashed a looping overhead punch into the giant man's jaw. The shot echoed with a resounding crack; it was the cleanest counter he'd ever landed. Staggering steps away, the massive man dropped and crashed backwards like a felled tree. He laid there in a still slump.

It was enough to make Ifsra sit up straight on their crate. Meanwhile, Vargo's eyes went as wide as dish plates as he reached into his pockets, desperately searching. Joel rubbed his aching knuckles. At least he hadn't killed the man.