BlueShear
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Chapter 42
🕑 Added 2024-10-07 05:51:01 +0000 UTCKit let out an ululating cry as he planted his spear deep into overgrown rat skull.
Gritting his teeth, he powered through the jolt of numbness which ran up his arms all the way to the elbow. Nearly disarming him at the most pivotal of moments. As his attack was not only met by unequivocal success, but also the rather solid marble tile that lay beneath.
Panting with two parts exhilaration and one part exhaustion, Kit slammed his cloth wrapped foot down hard—feeling the small bones of its ribcage cave as he tugged the weapon free. The spear sliding from the shin high rat creature with a crisp, rasping sound. And all the while, Kit couldn’t keep the grin off his face.
Billy may have been a muscle-bound buffoon at the best of times, often with a great deal more brawn than he had sense, but he’d certainly been onto something where this whole spear thing was concerned.
Of course, it’d taken the timely intervention of Viviana to actually get the idea off the ground, but he had to give credit where credit was due. Right now, he wouldn’t trade his handy rat poker for anything in the whole wide world. Especially when there were still so many of these stupid beasts left to kill.
With a start, Kit jerked his head away and to the side as one of the little vermin tried to latch its nasty chompers onto his face. Small though they might’ve been, their stature sure didn’t seem to hamper their jump height any.
Or strength for that matter, the fuckers were strong. Not overwhelmingly so—no stronger than his younger cousins back home might’ve been, and him on an empty stomach besides—but it definitely made him think twice about getting too up close and personal with the beasties.
A hesitation that Andrew clearly did not share.
As the thing sailed past, Kit only made out the flash of steel from the corner of his eye, as Andrew’s blade swiftly bisected the little creature midway through its jump. With an ostentatious flick, he then rid the pristine sword of any residual blood—the boy only pausing briefly to survey their ragged front line, before he rushed off to help relieve one of the others. Kit made a face.
“Show off,” he muttered, before turning back to his portion of the defense.
Ever since Viviana had gifted him that sword, he’d been hitched to the damned thing like a man possessed. Every waking moment—when they weren’t scavenging to make their quota or stuck in those moldy old tunnels—he’d spent training. Moving through the strange stances Viviana had taught them, though with far more gusto than any of them had ever shown. In some ways, Kit regretted the somewhat lax approach he’d taken towards his training.
Though a part of him recognized that, even if he had gone ahead and given it his all, he’d probably still end up playing sorry second fiddle to that hyper focused maniac. The guy just had this inexplicable knack for the blade, and they all knew it. That didn’t mean Kit had to like it very much.
Kit briefly grimaced, before a welcome sight made his face once more split into a wide, stupid grin. Yet another clueless rat had poked its head out one of the many holes they’d chewed through the walls.
Like lambs to the slaughter.
Kit had to hold back the mad impulse to throw his head back and howl. Instead, he waited patiently for the thing to squirm its way through. Because, really, what thrill was there to be had in an easy fight? Jabbing at the creature while it couldn’t fight back? Nah! Not his style. Once it fully emerged, noticed him, then visibly made ready to pounce, however, Kit once more leveled his spear, took aim, and lunged.
***
Mingxuan stabbed her weapon into the breach before the vile beast could squeeze its hairy body all the way through. Feeling the thing shudder its last on the end of her spear, she made a concerted effort not to dislodge the creature when she carefully pulled the weapon free.
The firmly wedged in corpse would now act as a crude stopgap of sorts. Hopefully stymying the others’ progress long enough for her to regulate her breathing. Stepping back and wiping the sweat from her brow, Mingxuan took the brief hiatus as a chance to survey her surroundings.
Of course, this was only after confirming, one last time, that all of the other breaches she’d been tasked with defending had, likewise, been secured.
Glancing around the massive banquet hall they now found themselves in, Mingxuan briefly called to mind the mad dash they’d taken to reach this place—harried all the while by a seemingly never-ending hoard of rats. She shuddered in recollection of that undulating carpet of hairy bodies. Spreading from one end of the impossibly wide thoroughfare to the other. Their never-ending mass extending as far back as any of them could see.
She just hoped Viviana and the others were having a better time of it than them. She knew they were confident in their own abilities, by the way they carried themselves if nothing else, but she couldn’t help but feel concern.
Those four hadn’t been any normal spirit beasts. The oppressive power they’d wielded…? Mingxuan shuddered, abruptly shifting her focus onto better things. Things she had even the smallest chance of controlling.
Checking in on the children first, she was relieved to find that both Kaelin and Jiali had stopped their crying and were now being comforted by little Adrian and Jieyu of all things. They held the two girls close and attempted to make a game out of even this hopeless situation. It wasn’t long before the innocent sounds of children’s laughter penetrated the thick, insufferable atmosphere of the hall.
Ringing out clearly over both the horrendous screams of the dying, and Kit, annoyingly enough, as he took way too much pleasure in killing them.
It was a heartwarming sight that should have brought Mingxuan to tears. And perhaps, if it weren’t for one other figure huddling pathetically by their side, it would have.
As it stood, however, all Mingxuan felt was pissed.
***
Caitlyn tried her very best to keep the children distracted. With silly little games, happy songs, and fantastical fairy tales. Well, the few appropriate ones she could still remember, anyway. Not an especially easy proposition given that her childhood had been most notably spent around gruff laborers and farmhands whose tongues were heavily loosened by drink.
Which essentially meant that, as a rule, whenever she stumbled across a particularly tricky bend in a story—she could’ve sworn hadn’t been there a moment before—she improvised.
“And… uh, the scary beasts were slain, and they all lived happily ever after!”
And all the while she pointedly ignored the baleful glare Mingxuan seemed to be perpetually aiming her direction. Really now? Didn’t she have more important things to do than bother Caitlyn with all her misplaced anger? Surely there were ample pests in need of tending to?
Her eyes briefly flicked over the growing number of corpses lying at her fellow captives’ feet. She shuddered in revulsion. It wasn’t as if she would’ve been any help regardless, she told herself. Could they really not see that? She was an innkeeper's daughter for the god's sake, not some great and powerful warrior like Andrew or Viviana. Nor would she ever be, as long as she lived.
And anyway, what use was there in putting her own life at risk when they seemed to be handling things just fine by themselves. Someone needed to look after the children. She was sure Mingxuan cared very little for the young one’s mental well-being, but that didn’t mean she could be so heartlessly cruel.
Besides, what use would all the woman’s pissy glaring amount to if, when everything truly came to a head, all of their problems would be solved regardless. Her prince was coming, she could feel it. The savior always arrived when the damsel was in the most distress. When the straights were most dire. And then, when he finally did arrive, not even that ghastly sea of rodents would be able to stand in his way.
***
Simon watched as, with a mighty bellow, Billy brought the, not one, but two long spears crashing down to the ground with a meaty thwack—pulverizing the four or so rat beasts that’d been skewered onto each. Billy glanced up sharply from the gruesome display—exuberance written plainly on his features.
Simon gave a strained smile in return.
For the barest second, he contemplated commenting on how that wasn’t really how you were supposed to use a spear, that double fisting two spears at once was an… interesting choice, and that the beasts had likely already been dead well before he’d felt the need to hammer the poor creatures back into the ground.
Seeing the dopey eyed look of joy on his companion’s blood splattered face, however, Simon very quickly thought better of it.
Instead, plucking free a random dagger from a sheath, he took a split second to test its balance, before he proceeded to fling it over the big guy’s left shoulder. Billy, for his part, didn’t even flinch—so trusting was he in Simons aim by now.
A blind trust that Simon would have, quite frankly, found unsettling were it not for the fact that he was, indeed, an impeccable shot. The jewel incrusted knife flipped through the air soundlessly to embed itself hilt deep in the chest of the leaping rat creature—abruptly arresting its forward momentum and killing it dead before it’d even touched the ground.
“You should really watch your back more,” Simon commented, eyes flickering from Billy to their surroundings, and back again.
The bear of a boy just laughed.
“Ha! That, my little friend, is what you’re here for.”
Simon only sighed, loosing another dagger as he did so. The shrill cry of yet another dying rat beast easily joining the others in the deafening cacophony.
I remember I couldn’t stand my uncles’ “hunting lessons” way back when. Always so eager to get back to the creature comforts of home, warm meals, and the library. Who would’ve thought their teachings would turn out to be so essential? I’ll have to thank those wily old mercenaries when I get back to the family manor.
Despite his better judgment, Simon kept a close tally of the beasts they killed. Having witnessed the unending sea of rodents just as clearly as the others, he knew intellectually that it likely mattered little how many they felled here.
Given the fact that, if they really wanted to, the beasts could just keep on coming at them indefinitely. Even still, despite how nonsensical of a task it was, he found that the constant additions helped ground him in the moment. That, if nothing else, the monotony of it helped to soothe his growing anxiety.
In this way, despite the chaos going on all around him, ever since the siege had first begun, he’d kept close tabs on how many entered the hall. Which was ultimately why he was probably the first to notice when the steady influx of rat beasts came to an inexplicable halt.
For a brief second, Simon actually felt a glimmer of hope. Thinking that, no matter how illogical, Viviana and the others had not only found them, but were even now chewing their way through the horde to save them.
That glimmer of hope, unfortunately, did not last long. A loud impact echoed throughout the hall—the crack of splintering wood making everyone jump. Simon focused on the wooden barricade they’d set up in front of the entrance. On the massive double doors set into the wall, and whatever was on the other side that desperately wanted in.
Simon’s eyes quickly scanned the length of the hall—taking in the similarly terrified expressions on the faces of his companions—before they eventually landed squarely on Andrew’s lean frame. His tall, straight backed, and muscular silhouette the target of several such desperation filled glances. He was the strongest among them, they all knew.
And if anyone here had a chance of taking down whatever lay beyond that door, it would be him. Simon could only hope that he would be enough in the end.
Then the second massive impact came, blasting a hole through their barricade in an explosion of wooden chairs and flying splinters.
***
Billy didn’t just sit back and watch as their defenses were blown to smithereens. Nor as a group of tail swaying bastards casually pranced in through the hole. He didn’t hem and haw over the best course of action as the inhuman creatures swapped words in their alien tongue.
He didn’t even wait for the dust to settle before he was throwing himself, spears first, at the hated enemy. His double fisted spear technique practically brimming with untold power. Literally itching to be used to its fullest, most brutal, most devastating effect.
Billy never saw the claw toed foot that savagely connected with his lower sternum, nor the derisive smirk worn by the lanky rat-kin who delivered the bone breaking blow. Just as he didn’t feel the brutal impact of his body careening into the furthest wall. His long-departed consciousness, which had immediately followed the kick—that and the subsequent shattering of every bone in his ribcage—a blessed mercy on all counts.
Andrew was given little time to process the result of Billy’s suicidal charge before the first of the swaggering rat-kin was already upon him. His only real saving grace the fact that, of the five spirit beasts to enter the hall, only one appeared to be actively participating in the fight.
Whether that was because of a warped sense of honor, or if they’d all just picked straws and this guy had won, Andrew had no idea. All he did know was that he’d trained hard for this very moment, and he was determined not to embarrass himself.
He’d moved through the forms for hours on end. Until his muscles refused to listen, and his body gave out. Swung his blade until his hands bled, until the cloth wrapping the hilt of his sword wore away. He’d sparred with Viviana every chance he could get, and whenever he was idle, he’d visualized.
Visualized his stances, reviewed his mistakes, and extrapolated on how he might perform better in the future. His body had been remade in the crucible of the under. His mind had been attuned to that of the sword.
And while his mastery of the blade was far from what he would call masterful, he’d nevertheless taken the first few steps along that path. And now that the first true test of his abilities had shown itself, he refused to allow all of his efforts to be in vain.
The beast attacked. Andrew stood ready.
Two swords clashed in rapid succession, the impact of steel on stone reverberating throughout the hall and creating brief showers of sparks with every deafening crash. Andrew sidestepped a wild diagonal swing, parried another with a deft redirection of his blade, and narrowly ducked a third—the horizontal slash easily shearing away the tips of his hair despite the rather dull looking appearance of the stone blade.
Amidst the flurry of strikes and rapid exchanges—occurring in the space of just a few scant seconds—it didn’t take long for Andrew to realize something crucial.
The beast’s attacks were crude, reckless, and overreaching things, more dependent on superior strength and speed than anything else. And while that wasn’t to say that superior attributes weren’t contributing factors, after having sparred almost daily with Viviana these past months, he’d come to realize that they weren’t everything in a fight.
For a long while Andrew merely sought to wear the beast out—evading strikes whenever possible and parrying them when necessary.
All the while he backpedaled further and further from the beast’s companions. He conserved energy when he could, revealed more holes in his defense than there actually were, and did his best to lull the beast into a false sense of superiority.
By around the one-minute mark it was evident to everyone in the room that the beast was growing rather agitated. His swings became more reckless, and the power contained within them nearly doubled. Andrew, caught somewhat off guard by this sudden surge in power, was nearly too late in bringing his weapon up in time.
His hurried guard ultimately protecting his vitals, though he was nevertheless sent reeling from just that brief contact with the upward strike—thrown entirely off balance with his wrists twinging in pain. And while he was fairly quick to recover, slipping away with only a scant few nicks for all the beast’s troubles, he became far more wary of full-on collisions from there on out.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the beast was holding back. From the very moment he’d seen one of them launch Billy across the hall, he should’ve known. In the same way he’d recognized, from their rapid chatter and somewhat lax demeanors, that they were clearly only here to entertain themselves.
They underestimated the powerless humans trapped down here in their domain, and Andrew had bet a lot on their continuing to underestimate him.
Finally, taking note of an especially overeager swing, Andrew saw his chance to strike and took it. Sidestepping the overhead swing, Andrew demonstrated a speed he’d refrained from tapping into up until now.
He lunged.
The tip of his sword closing the distance in the time between blinks, to embed itself neatly into the rat-kin’s exposed jugular. Then, with a slash empowered by the whole of his body working in tandem, he slit the beast’s throat. Nearly cutting down to the bone, he released powerful gouts of blood to permeate the air, then splatter harmlessly against the marble tile floor.
Silence reigned then, for long seconds, only punctuated by the occasional pitter patter of blood. Breaths coming in gasps and body drenched in sweat, Andrew had only enough energy left to watch as his opponent clutched their neck with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
The beast staggered backward in apparent shock.
Though, to Andrew’s immediate confusion, never once did it let go of its weapon. Nor, for that matter, did the others step in to intervene. When that look of stunned horror turned to one of unbridled fury, Andrew thought he understood why.
It was only due to the hundred odd hours spent in grueling form repetition that he got his blade up in time. Even as he did so, however, a part of his mind recognized it as futile. Because there was something fundamentally different about this incoming strike.
Something almost…primeval in nature—an aura that defied all attempts of his to quantify. An otherworldly intent that not only promised to cut him in two but rend the entire world asunder in the very same swing.
Despite every instinct he had screaming to the contrary, Andrew grit his teeth and raised his sword to meet the force of nature pretending to be a blade. And, in turn, was not at all surprised when his raised sword was sheered straight through without even a single jolt of resistance.
The sharp rock that slid into his stomach thereafter did, however, surprise. It surprised him quite a bit actually. It’s touch bringing about a burst of unimaginable agony followed by soul sucking weakness and unbearable nausea.
The impact of his body slamming into the furthest wall, meanwhile, was barely felt at all.
