Bruce_Sentar
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RD 4 Ch 40
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 06:00:04 +0000 UTC"Where are these even coming from?" Rogers yelled at his advisor as the demon swarm seemed to come without end.
"Underground, sir." The retired general had his hands neatly folded behind his back. Not a single worry creased his face.
It made Rogers want to punch it off. The old man was insufferable, but he thought about Bran’s reaction if he did something to the former general and shivered. "What do you mean, underground? Do something about it." Rogers continued yelling.
"I'm afraid you're the one with the authority. I am just advising you. However, my current advice would be to retreat and reassess who you have available to either detect or fortify your troops while traveling. It seems we've stepped into a trap."
"No shit. Hank. Lou, did you hear him?" He pointed at the retired general. "Find someone who can fucking sense underground. There's got to be someone who's got earth magic or something."
His advisor nodded sagely to the side and Rogers wanted to rip that little white beard off of his chin. It was bad enough he got stuck with an advisor. Worse yet, he was stuck with some old man. At least he had found some decent men amongst the ranks to use as his elites.
"We can work on that, but what do you want us to do about the current situation, boss?" Hank hooked a thumb at where his two thousand soldiers were scrambling in a circular formation, trying to keep the swarm of demons at bay.
These demons were disgusting looking things, like some sort of weird freakish cross between a goblin and a werewolf. The short green furred bastards were an endless source of pain for him these days. And it seemed would be his unfortunate companions for as long as that freakishly strong Bran forced him to be a general.
Since getting the system, Rogers hadn’t found a single person who could make him afraid, but then that fucking giant came and he knew real fear.
"Tighten up that line. Everyone's far too loosely organized. They're going to blow through that line up like it's nothing if they get their momentum going.” The advisor stated.
“Fuck you." As Roger spat and turned to Hank. “Get them shoulder to shoulder before they all die.” He saw the smirk from the old general and once again was reminded of his desire to beat his face in. Perhaps when they were done with this fight, he would find an excuse to at least hurl him off the fortress walls a few times. He could have a healer on hand and no one would know, no one would be the wiser of what he'd done.
Hank and Lou were already off, trying to hem the men back into something that vaguely resembled a formation.
"They aren't doing bad," the general said from his side as if to mollify Rogers’ anger.
"That's nice. Didn't ask you." Roger's scowled, “I didn't ask for any of this shit.”
His advisor turned slowly, "Then why are you here?"
"Because I'm terrified of Bran." Roger replied.
"Is he really that strong?" His advisor asked, only for Rogers to scoff, "Strong? No, he's not strong in the slightest. Your perspective of strong is being able to lift weights, perhaps shoot a bullet, fire a tank? No. No, while you're stuck in the old world, Bran is very much in the new one. I am positive that even if you brought your entire country's arms to bear on the current Bran, even at your country's peak, he would walk away unscathed and then could likely break each and every person's individual will with the same calm, stony face he uses for everything else."
His advisor's eyebrow steadily crept up his forehead, "Truly?”
“Yeah, Bran is a nightmare on two legs.” Rogers shivered, remembering how he'd been recruited by force before he suddenly looked over his shoulder to make sure Bran hadn't somehow ghosted behind him.
The man had shown up out of nowhere, walked straight onto Rogers growing compound and broken the legs and spirits of everyone Rogers had recruited. Then he had stood still and taken everything Rogers could throw at him before asking if he was done and ending it in a single punch.
"Enough of this," Rogers said, taking off his eye patch, only for the eye underneath to be blood red with a slitted black pupil that opened wide as soon as it came into contact with the sunlight.
This was what he’d used to become as strong as he had so quickly. Doom’s Gaze.
The world's colors inverted before lines crisscrossed Roger's vision, his pupil dilating as if it were engulfing the world before him.
Those lines became real, but only on the demons.
Something however, slammed into Rogers eye like a physical force. He winced, quickly covering his eye and throwing the eyepatch back over it.
A hundred demons exploded as if they'd been cut a thousand times all at once. The line of battle became a fountain of thick dark demon blood.
"Push!" Roger growled at his troops, holding his hand over the eyepatch and grimacing in pain.
His advisor didn't hesitate, springing into action and shouting orders left and right. Their soldiers dived towards the opening.
Rogers followed at the very back, using his personal strength to crush demons as they tried to swarm in on their backs. They needed to cut a line out of this encirclement he wasn’t going to be able to do that again so soon. There had been too many of them at once.
"Sir," his advisor began, only for Rogers to wave him away.
"Whatever it is, it can wait a minute." To his surprise, his advisor waited patiently, hands folded behind his back. When Roger finally looked up, he noticed not only his advisor, but many of his soldiers were also looking over their shoulders expectantly for the next order.
"If I may say so myself, you've done quite well," his advisor complimented him.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Roger snapped, his throbbing eye made his mood sour. But he still liked it better than being smashed to a pulp by that freak, Bran.
His eye had done nothing to Bran, nothing at all.
*****
"It seems they can grow," Circe said as I stood with her and Merlin.
Despite my many words, I was not about to leave the entire combat up to green Generals. Instead, I was keeping an eye on things from a distance. When left with no other option, most people would take care of those who followed them. But I had to be sure.
Rogers would find himself if given time, but I was worried when I’d found him living like a fucking despot.
“I received a scouting report that they'd fallen into a trap. I needed to be here lest I lose an entire goddamn army.” I told Circe.
"Sure, that must have been it," Circe smiled. "I won't tell anyone that Bran Heros is a softie, looking out for everyone when they are supposed to be toughening themselves up."
"If you did, I'm not sure anyone would believe you," I shot back with a wink, at which Merlin actually chuckled.
It was rare for me to get a laugh from the frosty woman.
"Well, at least he's doing okay," I said, holding up the rockie-talkie. "Any other news?" I asked into the device.
"General Cao is experiencing significant forces," came the reply from the scouts.
"Describe 'significant forces'," I asked, unsure.
"They're not underground like Roger's. Instead, they seem to be swarming over land. Running on all fours," the voice said. "It looks like they're going to engage nearly ten to one against our soldiers."
I bit my lip, hearing the bad news, but also not being too worried in the immediate moment. "Any other groups encountering significant problems?"
"Negative, Lord Bran," they replied dutifully.
"Good, keep me updated. Circe, if you would, without causing a stir, get us out of here. And over to that drunk monk's group," I ordered.
"I thought Merlin was our ride," Circe said, hooking a thumb at her, despite the wind picking up around us and lifting me off my feet.
"Merlin's the emergency ride," I mused aloud.
“I’m unsure whether to feel flattered or upset.” She groused.
"Why not both? I'm happy to take all of the emotions you throw my way."
Merlin glanced at the two of us as we began to fly low to the ground. "Is there something happening between the two of you?" she asked cautiously.
"Why, yes. Bran has asked me out on a date. Not sure how I feel about it just yet," Circe said, practically shoving her nose in the air.
Merlin gave a slow nod. "I see." Her eyes shifted to me, asking some questions that I wasn't recognizing.
Circe latched onto my arm and pulled my attention away before I could puzzle them out. "Don't be cold now, Bran. You've asked me on a date. No need to back out now," she said.
"Well, you're the one who's supposed to pick when. And though you said yes, leaving it as an undetermined date doesn't give me the highest confidence that it’ll happen. Though I'm sure you won't disappoint," I replied with a stare that I hoped would make her rise to the challenge.
"This is what happens if you're too loose with men, Merlin," Circe said, laughing hard enough to make her chest bounce. Given our proximity, they nearly slapped me in the face.
Merlin pursed her lips. "Somehow I suddenly feel like a kettle."
"Oh, Merlin, your wit never ceases to astound me," Circe said, still laughing despite being called a pot.
"I'm glad I impressed one of us," Merlin replied dryly.
I pointed to the forces that the recon team had indicated off in the distance. "I do think there is trouble that we'll need to clear up. As much as I see myself as a strong combatant, I have to admit that you two have a far greater ability to shift the tide of an entire battlefield than I do."
We landed flanking the oncoming enemy, out of line of sight for the drunk monk and his forces.
I didn’t want to come behind his men and have them relax when I charged in deep.
Circe and Merlin squared up like they were ready for a fight, but I held my hand up to stop them as the drunk monk stumbled forward.
"This is the one that you said took poison resistances to a whole new level?” Circe observed.
I nodded. "That's him, though he's not at that level yet. I'm hoping to get him there quicker now that I'm essentially giving him an endless supply of booze and poisons."
"Aren't you worried that's going to change the outcome?" Merlin asked.
"Situations are already changing too much for me to draw the line here. I am just curious to see how he reacts." I replied. Things were shifting wildly, especially since it seemed there was another out there with similar knowledge to my own. To handicap myself by trying to keep things in line with my past life, I’d be giving up too much. Besides, I’d already dragged them out of their current trajectories, what was another push?
"Do you think he could pass the trial of kings?" Circe asked, crossing her arms.
"Not a chance. He is a selfish bastard, which is why I am curious to see him step out front." I shook my head, she was still stuck on that.
The drunk monk stumbled forward as the enemy army raced to him. He took a long swig of the gourd flask at his waist before dropping it and letting a cord it was tied to catch it before it hit the ground. Ambling forward, tripping over his own he seemed entirely outclassed by a loping wave of demons.
The demon army continued to charge, and he seemed almost unaware, to the point I wondered if he was actually too drunk to fight.
"I can't watch this," Circe said after a moment, turning away. "Just tell me what's happening."
"The drunk monk looks drunk," Merlin said matter-of-factly. "That's about it. Oh, he nearly fell over."
"So helpful," Circe said dryly.
"It's the truth," Merlin only shrugged as I watched the monk clash with the demonic forces, though clash was perhaps the wrong word.
They swarmed on him, diving from every angle, tooth and claws bared.
Only for him to miraculously stumble out of over a dozen attacks at the same time. He swung out his hand, his powerful stats crushing the head of the largest demon at the front of the pack before he spewed his precious liquor in a spray over the demons present.
Even from where I stood, I could see that he shouted something furiously before spinning about, shaking his gourd at all of the demons.
The encirclement around him, however, turned into a mad scramble to get away. The demons howled in pain, several of them dropping dead before they could get far enough away from him. Even then, some jumped and bit him, only for the weird green little wolf demons to stagger back, grabbing at their mouths as foam rose up and they fell over, twitching.
I laughed as he continued to chug from his gourd, the bite marks all over his body healing. Now that he was so resistant to poison, it actually healed him.
"Wow," Merlin said, only for Circe to turn around slightly and see the situation before us.
"The demons are running from him?" she asked, confused.
"I think he's literally so poisonous that those attacking him are actually dying," Merlin explained, only for Circe to glance at me as if to check that the information was correct.
"I'm as shocked as you are that he's stepping up forward and using himself like that, though perhaps he might be quite literally drunk on this newfound power of his." I offered.
Circe must have agreed with me as she let out a long, knowing groan. "That makes far more sense. Well, now that we know he can handle this, why don't we go back?"
"What if he runs out of liquor?" Merlin asked.
"He won't. That gourd is actually a ranked item, kind of like a spatial ring. We've given him an absolute obscene amount. If he ever tells you that he's running out, please feel free to call him on his bullshit." I scoffed.
Both women made a noise of understanding, and while it did seem like he had it all in one hand, I was concerned about the size of the forces. It seemed unlikely that a group this size wouldn't have an accounting number of powerful elites amongst their number.
He might be able to handle the small fries for now, but they’d overrun him.
The drunkard was thrown from his encirclement, and the forces were no no longer stalled around him. A significantly larger wolf-demon made himself known amongst the pack, howling into the air and leading a charge on the monk's forces that he had left behind to wade in on his own.
"That's a decent reason to stick around," Merlin said. "Is it our turn now?"
"Yes. Flank the army. Merlin, take this side. Circe, take the other. Hem them in so a group that size can't surround all of our forces. I'll deal with this sudden problem and hopefully attract the attention of any others that think our people are an easy target."
Comments
Adam
Is it “Roger” or “Rogers?” Both are used but the 2nd seems to be more common.
Erin Jordan
The drunkard was thrown from his encirclement, and the forces were no no longer stalled around him. Should be ", and the forces were no longer stalled around him." Removing the double no.
