Chapter 26: Chapter 22: Fall of Red Hook

Day 21(53) - Morning

Friday, August 29th

New Amster City - Red Hook

Six Days

*pit* *pat* *rumble* *pitpat*

A gray cloudy day. Light drizzle falls from the heavy sky. Wet drops land on me. Distant thunder rolls across the sky. It's dawn and the sun battles with the clouds.

I’m standing on I278. Here a mostly collapsed section of elevated interstate. Beneath me the Gowanus Canal chokes on wreckage and debris. There is nothing but ruins as far as the eyes can see. The skyscraper graveyards of Manhattan and Downtown Brooklyn dominate the northern skyline.

• [ Community: Red Hook | Owner: Colin Purser | Population: 40,281 | Size: 1.0 km2 ]

Except to the west. The enclave of Red Hook. Well, it's not in great shape either but I can see a few system purchased buildings behind its walls. And its pre-apocalypse public housing is overflowing with refugees.

Yes, I told Nathan that I wouldn’t go to war for a couple weeks. But this asshole decided to get in my face. So I'm going to put a bullet in his.

And don't get your panties in a twist. Broadcasted yesterday that I was coming to conquer Red Hook and kill the Tyrant.

Today.

Yeah, Colin "The Tyrant" Purser. Another strongman and a particularly shitty piece of shit. Last I heard, a Bronze ranked Brute class bastard. Though some say he's broken through to Steel.

Likes to throw his muscle around. Demands tribute from the pocket bastions. Buys and sells slaves. Doesn't help old ladies cross the street. Takes candy from babies. Just an all round douchebag. 

Asshole even picked a fight with Louis once when they ran into each other during a sweep. Fucker would have died if kid hero hadn't gone easy on him.

Supposedly Colin's hated him ever since.

Could take him mano e mano but there is no way that bitch will come out to face me. Besides, I've been looking for a chance to test if my efforts so far have been a waste of time or not. Making magearms. Raising an army. Creating supersoldiers. Etc…

If this faceplants? Worst comes to worst? I'll just bail and off road home instead of fly. Like a Mad Max Oregon Trail.

But if this goes well enough? My population and resources will get a big boost. Pushing up the finish date for the helicarrier.

I've brought three companies of the Fort Matthew Army. One platoon of the Royal Guard. Plus a platoon of supersoldiers. That I still haven't come up with a name for yet. The Penitent Sisters are here too. Infiltrating the bastion yesterday.

We're up against eight companies worth of infantry. One battery of mortars. A platoon of Tyrant's Own guard. Over a hundred cops. Plus hundreds of mercenaries and "fanatics."

Yep, you read that right. Fanatics. Colin made a deal with a war god and bought [Temple I (Bah'al)]. Who's one of those "convert by the sword" types. Aggressive recruiting has given the church hundreds of poorly armed but very motivated followers.

We'd be outnumbered even more if the tin pot dictator hadn’t lost hundreds of his best when he attacked Carlton Heights.

Still, five hundred attacking two thousand? Seems really stupid. And it is. But it also isn't.

My troops are well trained and equipped. Even include veteran Sheaten with years of combat experience. His? Basically militia. With a hodgepodge of armor and armaments. We both have radios and phones. But I also have the sisters and thopters. Who have been scouting his positions since yesterday.

Look through my binoculars again. Red Hook is a typical bastion. A, mostly, junk stockade forms its perimeter. Only parts of it have been replaced with system purchased walls. Why? Because most weren't spendthrifts like Louis. Blowing most of their scrips and chits on food, alcohol and weapons as soon as the system store opened.

This bulwark is, well, uneven. Some parts are as short as ten feet. Others as high as twenty. Has a very "scrap" look. Hundreds of militia are spread out along it's top and there's no civilian traffic in sight.

Not surprising since we weren't exactly quiet while setting up in the predawn hours. Have Alpha and Bravo companies dug in along Court St. Only two hundred yards from the Lorraine St gate. Charlie is dug in on the north side. A couple hundred yards in front of the Dwight St gate.

The Tyrant's troops certainly know we're here.

"Smoke." I say without lowering the binoculars.

Hear the beep and chatter as my command is relayed.

*foom* *foom* 

From buildings below me grenade launchers fire. Quickly a thick fog rises in front of the stockade of junk. Blocking their sight.

"Here they come!" "Steady!" "Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes!" "Asshole!" "Free Willy!"

Hear the defenders shouting. Confident in their guns and fortifications. This isn’t the first time they've been attacked after all. Holding off both marauders and monsters before. Unfortunately, today, that confidence is… misplaced.

*zKow* *zBoom* *zBang* *zBrrrap*

All along the battlements, bodies… burst. Large chunks of bone and flesh are blasted apart. Bravery, nervousness and fear are swept away in a tide of horror, terror and death. Even those who cower find no safety as the heavy magefire rounds punch through rubble and metal.

Fire, lightning, stone, and ice explode as the bullets' second circles trigger. Spreading havoc across the rampart.

Back in my army days I learned that you can't hit what you can't see. And you need to hit what you do see. So I've made equipment and marksmanship a priority. My soldiers get decent hardware and spend time on the range every day.

Night and thermal vision is part of that kit. Now not everyone has them yet. We salvage what we can and production just started. But everyone in first battalion does. While hardly any of those poor bastards do.

At first I was going to take advantage of that and attack last night. But changed my mind when I realized the panic it could cause. Need the civvies to at least be able to somewhat see. To tell where not to run. So I waited for dawn.

And through this smoke and light sprinkle, the enemy show up in thermal like bright candles. Waiting to be snuffed out. So we do exactly that.

"Advance." More radio chatter follows my order. Below the infantry start bounding forward by squads and sections.

*stomp* *zKow* *stomp* *zKow*

"Die scum! Eat bolter!"

Well, most do.

Caelus Marius Fuscus, aka Charlie the Warhammer otaku, has taken to his new body with a great deal of… gusto.

"Blood for the blood god!"

Sigh, I am so gonna get sued.

Marching straight up Lorraine St are two dozen supersoldiers. Covered in full body armor that looks like the unholy offspring of a WH40K Space Marine and Starcraft Terran Marine.

*BOOM* *BOOM*

"Hell, it's about time."

I mutter as mortar shells from the Tyrant's Battery finally start falling. Most wasting themselves on empty positions. Their former occupants already approaching the wall. A few aren't aimed at them though.

"[Windwall]!" "[Fireshield]!" "[Snapshot]!"

Jet, Ce, Lez and others use spells and skills to block, destroy or deflect the shells arcing down on us. The artillery blocked or intercepted before it can become a threat.

I'm still using the binocs.

*zKow*

See Aulus, the unit's commander, lift his Wrath Mk I SMG and fire a single round at a still moving heat source on the wall. Though calling it a sub machine gun isn't really accurate. It does fire short instead of long rounds. Inspired by the fictional "Bolter." The gun has a standard layout with the magazine in front of the trigger.

The Wrath's banana mag holds twenty 75 cal Short Magefire Mk Vs. Each three quarters of an inch in diameter, three and three quarter inches long and weighing over half a pound. When these babies exit the eighteen inch barrel at two thousand feet per second? They bring over fifty thousand joules of kinetic energy with them.

Compare that to a 50 cal BMG bullet that weighs only a tenth of a pound and has less than fifteen thousand joules.

Yeah, bit of a difference there.

"Here. We. Go."

I watch as one of the supersoldiers lifts an oversized bazooka and points it at the gate.

*zShoop* *KRAKOOM*

This missile has enough mass for three magic-circles. A one-ring [Propel] and two-ring [Shatter]. The store bought gate and wall around it detonate. Fragments raining down for hundreds of feet around.

A gap dozens of feet across has been opened up in the wall.

Mortar shells continue to land and explode. Now marching closer to the wall. But still behind as my forces stream through the breach. Where there was sporadic return fire before, the battlements are all quiet now.

Thermal reveals only cooling corpses on top of the fortifications below the weeping clouds. Any survivors having fled the slaughter. Red water trickles down the scrap barrier.

Smoke grenade created fog starts to dissipate as I lower the binoculars. 

My shoulder mic beeps.

"King Actual, the entrance is secured."

Key the mic to reply. "All units, this is King Actual. Yes Bravo. I say again. Yes Bravo." Ignore the acknowledgements and turn my cybereyes to Cecilia. "Open broadcast." She nods her head and speaks to the radioman.

"It's ready," blush, "my love."

Key the mic again. "Inhabitants of Peach Trees." Oops. "This is King Barton. Colin Purser is not the law. I am the law." Add a dash of Dredd. "Purser is a criminal. Guilty of murder, rebellion and slavery. The Tyrant of Red Hook is under sentence of death." Pause for effect. "Anyone who interferes with the carrying out of this sentence? Will share it." Another pause. "And as for you, Colin?" One more. "Judgment day." Release the mic. "Put me back on the military channels."

"Done, your honor." The radioman bows and responds.

Pivot to my women. "Let's bring them the good news." And walk off the concrete highway.

“My lord!” An officer in urban camo [Barton Body Armor] walks up and salutes. “Alpha Company has engaged the artillery battery. Bravo Company has encountered enemy reinforcements. And your Stormtroopers face human wave attacks from heretics.”

“Heretics, colonel?” And Stormtroopers? Well, technically, lieutenant colonel. Dexter Harper, one of Bentram Harper’s sons.

Yeah, giving the Club positions of authority in the military is not a great idea. However, these guys willingly signed system contracts and do actually know their stuff. This one was at West Point before everything went to hell. Though he still had a year to go.

“Yes lord. Followers of the alien god. Though maybe heathens is a better label?” Continues. “Charlie Company has begun its attack on the Dwight St gate but is having difficulties.”

“Difficulties?”

“The northern entrance is protected by a system store bunker, your majesty. With what appear to be laser weapons. Casualties have been light, so far, but their advance has stalled.”

Frown. “Very well, request the Penitent Sisters provide support.”

Another salute. “Yes lord.” And he marches away. Yelling a string of orders at his staff.

I’m standing next to a big empty cracked public swimming pool with the Blackhearts and Royal Guard surrounding me. To the north is the Red Hook East public housing project. Two dozen six-story tall apartment buildings packed with people. Seeing hundreds of frightened dirty faces peeking around window sills tickles a distant memory.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp. Cries she with silent lips. Give me your tired. Your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

Jet's eyes snap to me in shock. “The New Colossus.” She whispers.

Gently touch the african aeromancer’s lips with mine. Enjoying their softness and warmth for a while. The wetness of her tongue. From my other ladies I can feel the heat in their gazes. And in their loins.

Gunfire fills the air to the north and west. Medics race by us, back and forth, with stretchers. A field hospital has already been set up in the pool’s rec center. Fortunately, casualties are few. And healing magic means that even lethal wounds in the old world are not quite so mortal in this new one.

What pisses me off though is that there are wounded civilians next to the injured soldiers. I look at my “minder,” a lieutenant assigned as a liaison. Yeah, colonel Harper didn’t come over to tell me about the battle. He really came over wanting the sisters’ help. Because as an “allied” unit, he has no authority over them.

“Explain, now.” Scowl at the looie and point to a bloody bandaged child on a gurney that’s missing a leg. His mother sobbing and hovering protectively over him.

The lieutenant, Evelyn Reid, stays calm. She is not part of the upper class. Nor ex-military. Just pretty. Yeah, the Defense Department is copying the Club’s strategy.

And I don't exactly mind. Pussy is pussy. But I refuse to again end up with a stupidly large harem like in medieval land.

I don't care why you, or your family, are throwing yourself at me. It's not fair to you, me or any kids we have.

There need to be limits, you know?

The LT snaps a smart salute. “Your majesty, the opfor to the north is using civilians as shields. Their residences for firing positions. Citizens are caught in the crossfire.”

Redirect thopters to check on it. Eh? No, of course I don't trust them. Trust will get you killed. Or worse, used.

Doesn’t take me long to find proof. Fire from one of the housing project's buildings is suppressing a Bravo Company squad. My mosquito sized bots confirm non-combatants inside. One shitstain is even holding an old lady in front of him as he fires over her shoulder.

Ponder my options but none are good. Anything I do will probably kill some civvies too.

Another thopter catches a catkin squad charging into the building from the other side. These guys are vets and start a sweep and clear. Window after window goes silent.

Finally the bad guys notice their buddies are dying and panic. Giving the pinned troops time to fire tear gas into the still active positions. Causing even more chaos. No catkin dies, but two humans do. As well as several non-combatants. But dozens of enemies don’t leave the building alive. And the captured few that do? Well, they’ll soon wish they hadn’t.

Hey, they’ve been sentenced to death. But I never said their deaths would be quick. More training "material" for the sisters.

A thopter pulls my attention west. Just two hundred yards away from where I’m standing? Shit is getting weird.

*zKow* *ratatat* *zKow* [Holy Smite] [Divine Shield] [Bless]

Remember the bit about my first volunteer becoming a paladin with my faith? Well, all of them got that trait. No, not the paladin part. The faith part. And… well…

Among the collapsed ruins of a shopping center and parking lot. Two dozen superhumans stand tall on piles of rubble. Raining death and destruction down on hundreds of what appear to be… charging clergymen? They do have armor on. But covered by red priestly robes.

Most of these acolytes don’t even have guns. Instead throwing spells at my supersoldiers while trying to reach them with clubs and maces. The dozens of dead redrobes carpeting the ground in front of my, uh, templars? Implies that plan isn’t working out too well for them.

*smash*

Another shield spell is shattered by a 75 cal bullet. The stone shards that slice into its sprinting caster, as his arm gets blown off, shows its second ring was [Rock].

“[Deliverance]!”

An old dude with much fancier red robes, standing at the back, casts a spell. And while it doesn't regrow the arm? It does stop the bleeding and gets the battle-priest mobile again. Who stumbles back to the much bigger and harder magic barrier of the old guy.

A line of these senior psychos are along that end of the lot. Sending their acolytes to assault my supersoldiers. Who kill a bunch of them. The survivors then retreat back to their boss's barriers. Where they heal up, gather up and buff up. Before running at my guns again.

It's surreal. Like watching red waves batter a wreckage strewn beach. Driven back by the crabs onshore every time. Crustaceans with guns.

But that’s not the weirdest part.

"Repent sinners!" One of the fancy redrobes screams.

"The emperor protects!" From, who else, Charlie.

"Bah'al conquers all!" Another senior psycho spouts.

"Come! Show me what passes for fury among your misbegotten kind!" What the fuck did Caelus just say?

Not to be outdone. A bad guy shouts. "Find forgiveness in death!"

"Burn in holy fire! Feel the emperor's wrath!" Where is he getting these from?

"Turn away from your idolatry and embrace the mace of truth!" The old guys look absolutely livid.

North of this bizarre, and bloody, version of a theological debate. The mosquito bots see every window filled with locals, watching.

And Charlie ain't letting up. "No mercy! No respite! The emperor's light is my torch!"

"The false prophets will only bring your doom!" The priest are, somehow, getting even angrier. 

Those red waves of priestly cannon fodder are now focusing on that Warhammer otaku's rubble pile. Ignoring the other stormtroopers. Or maybe pulpit would be a better word? He certainly seems to be giving a sermon. Of some sort.

"I am an instrument of his will!" Is Caelus this devout? Or is he just having fun with the material?

"The cudgel will bless! The club will cleanse! [Hammer of Judgement]!" One of the enemy leaders has had enough. Even from my position two hundred yards away I can feel the mana spike.

You are reading story And Back Again at novel35.com

*VOOM*

A red beam of light streaks straight down through the thick clouds above. Smashing into the supersoldier below it. A great weight seems to drop on Charlie. Forcing him to one knee.

The panting exhausted bishop, or whatever he is, cackles. "Behold the might of Bah'al!" But the thopter's eyes zoom in and observe sweat pouring from his brow. Guess it's quite the strain to keep that ray firing.

"Burn the heretic!" The fancy redrobes look shocked that Caelus can still speak. "Kill the mutant!" Astonished when the otaku visibly struggles against the weight but manages to stand. "Purge the unclean!"

*vyryyrrr*

A sword has appeared in Charlie's left hand and revs up. Yes, it's a chainsword. Even freakier though is the golden glow that envelops him and pushes back against the red energy.

The one maintaining the spell just can't accept what he's seeing. "Impossi-" *zKow*

Distracted by the growling blade, the enemy don't notice that the giant SMG has been replaced too. With a weapon half its size. A huge pistol still. Though more easily handled with one hand by the seven foot plus soldier. And more easily aimed.

The Fury Mk I uses the same size round as the Wrath. However, the much shorter barrel means the 9.8oz bullet leaves the barrel at only one thousand feet per second. But it's enough.

Burning so much mana has greatly weakened the redrobe's barrier. And with only fifty yards separating them? The nearly thirteen thousand joules coming with the hollow point is enough to pierce the thinner holy shield. And reach the one who cast it.

Before the senior can finish exclaiming. He is blasted backward by the half pound of lead. His insides turned into puree by the already expanding round.

"My faith is my shield! My fury is my sword!" Caelus Marius Fuscus springs forward as the red beam fades. Body still glowing with a golden aura as his chainsword chews through metal, flesh and bone with every swing.

Half his brothers and sisters join him. Having swapped out their ranged for close-quarter weapons too. Some also have chainswords. While others use non-chain swords, axes or hammers.

*VyrGyrGyr*

"Cleanse! Purge! Kill!" Oh god, now she's started it too.

The miss in question is Artora Marius Ignatis. Eh? You know… K-cups? Yep, and I came this close to naming her Titia. But barely managed to stop myself. Good thing too. Cause she is fucking brutal.

Nina came up with the chainsword and bolt pistol on her own. She has access to my memories and Charlie, of course, made a fan site with lots of pictures he had saved.

The little sexbot that could also made what Artora is swinging with wild abandon right now. A big fucking chainaxe.

Jesus.

What? No. I do not want to talk about where the gold glow is coming from. Ugh. Yes it's coming from me. No shit, Sherlock. It's just not entirely voluntary so to speak. More like… spontaneous?

And the faith I'm getting? Is spreading. Yes, that's a bad thing! Flirting with godhood was what finally started the God War back on Ipra. A whole lot of mortals fucking died. Quite a few supposedly immortals did too.

What? Do you think I have a giant undead empire on medieval world because a ton of people just up and decided one day that they would rather be dead?

Never, ever, trust a woman. You can fuck them. You can love them. You can even count on them. Rely on them. But never, for fucking ever, trust them. The lengths they'll go to for revenge? Are just… insane.

And not even god knows what will happen if the system tries to leash me. Can sense BledWhiteHeart is watching and really wants to barrage me with questions. But, thankfully, she's biting her tongue. 

Okay, whew, where were we? Oh, right. Hmm… Yep, they're boned.

Another hundred or so acolytes are decorating the ground with their red robes. And red blood. Half the fancy redrobes are mulch now too. The remaining heretics are trying to retreat. But keep having to fight off the supersoldiers pursuing them.

Well at least that should be all for-

• [ Attention, your minion's (Caelus Marius Fuscus) class has changed ]

Huh?

• [ New class, Chaplain ]

…

Fuuuuudge…

Yeah they're technically vassals or subordinates or some shit. But I just think of them as minions and the system abides. A hell of a lot nicer than that pirated piece of crap running steam planet.

"Your majesty?" Looie just finished getting an update over her radio. I nod so she continues. "Charlie Company reports Dwight Gate is secure. They are now flanking an opfor to their northwest." A pause. "Several mercenary units have accepted an emergency request from the Tyrant and approach. The Sisters of Penitence are skirmishing to stall them."

The LT pauses again. "Bravo Company has rendered their enemy combat ineffective and advances to support the Sisters. The alien god's militants have retreated into their temple. Your enhanced soldiers have begun a siege."

So far so good. She continues.

"Alpha Company has captured the Battery and reports the enemy leader has left Town Hall with his guard and attacked them. They are requesting support."

Yeah, they can probably handle them. Their assault rifles will put the hurt on anything he's got. But with so many different classes, fights are even more unpredictable. Might as well wrap this up then.

"Let's go."

Leave the pool and walk west on Bay St. Then around the west end of Red Hook Park. Now on Columbia St. On the other side of the street is a [Public Kitchen I ]. With a tall barbed wire fence around it? Fuck, Colin, you really are an asshole.

To the north is the temple. Looking kind of, uh, babylonian? Sumerian? Whatever. It's got a blocky hanging gardens sort of stepped pyramid design. Now it's looking worse for wear as bullets and rockets tear into it.

South of us is a bunker looking town hall with a couple dozen rankers in front of it. Sending shots, skills and spells at Alpha Company that's south of the park.

• [ Colin Purser | Brute | Steel ]

Nice, so he did reach C-grade. His "Tyrant's Own" though are mostly Irons. And act like a bunch of noobs playing Overwatch. Dress like them too.

Sigh. This is almost embarrassing. My ladies deploy. 

"Hey, Colin!" I shout at the iron wall stomping towards my infantry. Who stops in his tracks.

The Tyrant of Red Hook is covered from neck to toe in spiky red metal. And carries a huge two handed spike covered mace. Seems to be a theme here.

You can hear the metal scrape as he turns to face me. Bullets bouncing off his thick armor or mana barrier. 

"Well, if it isn't Limp Dick Lou!" Is there anyone who hasn't seen Cyn's porn? "Haha! You fucked up! Big time!" Points at me. "I've got a god on my side now! And he wants your hea-" *zBOOM* "AH!"

The 50 cal Shortvolt from my quickdrawn Ironbear revolver slams into a red barrier that appears in front of his face. Scaring the shit out of the despot and knocking him back a couple steps.

Colin frantically feels around his head to make sure it's all still there. And is visibly relieved when he realizes it is. Then turns red as he shouts at me.

"You fuckin punk! I was gonna go easy on ya!" No you weren't. "But now I'm gonna break your arms and legs! And make ya watch while I show your whores what a real dick feels li-"

*clang*

"Hold that thought!" Raise a finger, my birdie, as a tall tripod manifests in front of me.

*CHUNK*

"Wh-wha-what the hell is that?!" The bully seems pretty surprised as a stupidly big gun materializes out of thin air and drops down on the mount. Its fifty-four inch barrel is over twice as long as the Barret M82's. Which is why it's a bullpup design.

Yep, it's the Godslayer. Everyone’s stopped fighting. Just staring at the monstrous hunk of metal in awe, and fear.

Say the legal dept approved intro while I cock it and sight in. "Thank you, insert name here, for agreeing, voluntarily or otherwise, to be a test subject for this Barton Industrial Group Charter Union Munitions Development Incorporated Limited Liability Armaments product!" Some of the Tyrant's Own literally start running away.

Why don't they blitz me instead? Well, the higher the rank? The more offensive, and defensive, options and gear you tend to have. The longer it takes to kill you. Plus I'm surrounded by heavily armed and armored rankers. So their chances of reaching me before I can pull the trigger? Probably seem pretty slim.

Better to just get the fuck out of dodge. Especially if you see the guys you know have [Identify]? Running for their lives.

"Hey! Wait! I'm… sorry! Let's talk about this!" Colin drops the mace. Making a dent in the ground as a spiky red tower shield appears in his hands. Which the big guy laughably tries to hide behind it.

Couple more ticks on the sight as I continue the spiel. "Be proud, insert name here, that you are contributing to BIGCUMDILLA's recent tradition of making dreams come true!" Crap, forgot to wear the lab coat again. "For money!"

Mr dictator finds his balls again. "Fuck you, Lou!"

"Say cheese, asshole!"

*zvKRAKOOM*

The 60 cal Longball exits the barrel of a Godslayer traveling at three thousand feet per second. Weighing 8.9oz, it brings over one hundred thousand joules of kinetic energy. That's twice as much as the Wrath's 75 cal Short. And should overcome the mana enhanced resistance of an A-grade monster.

But this ain't a Longball.

Nope, the bullet flying these unfriendly skies is a 60 cal AP Longdead Special. That means there's a tungsten penetrator inside plus the runes are "overcharged." Adding five hundred fps to the exit velocity. Bringing the weight up to three quarters of a pound. And piling almost another hundred thousand joules on to your target's pucker factor.

And, by the by, magearms still have recoil. Not as much as using enough gunpowder for the same effect. But you're still accelerating a sizable hunk of metal to three times the speed of sound in less than five feet and under one second. So, yeah, there's some pushback.

Plus when that much weight gets going that fast? Let's just say that the surrounding air gets displaced. Ever been beside the business end of a tank cannon when it fires? Yep, you get moved.

The result though? Kind of anticlimactic. Colin's got a new hole. Expected all kinds of fireworks and a light show as it fought through the various resistances and shields. But nope. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Just got a new hole.

*clang*

The tyrant drops the tower shield. "Well, that ain't good." He says as his fingers poke around the new orifice added to his abdomen.

Granted the opening is a foot across. In both him and that dumb looking shield. Plus goes clean through him. My cybereyes can see out the other side. Various runes across his armor spark and sputter. Doing their level best to keep him alive. And his innards, relatively, together. What's left of them at least.

Hard to though, after such a massive shock to his material and astral forms. He might even survive this with high level healing. Something his new god could provide.

If it had been a Longball. But it wasn't. There's a reason I didn't aim for his brain or heart.

"I… I don't feel so good." Which is a funny thing to hear from a guy missing a large portion of his lower torso.

Can't help myself. "The suspense is terrible. I hope it will last…"

"Wha?" A confused and pale Colin looks up. Only to see me with my arms draped over Godslayer. Leaning against it. And smiling at him in anticipation. A painful twitch travels across his face. "Oh." Another twitch. "No."

Here it comes.

*fzzzz*

"AIYEEE!"

The Tyrant's arms spread wide. So do his legs. Like every part of him is desperately trying to get away from every other part. He even floats up a little. As a howling scream, that seems to come from his very soul, tears out of him. Every muscle in his body starts pulling and pushing at the same time. Ripping itself apart to flee from what's coming for it.

Hehe, or at least trying to.

*shudder*

Ooh baby… That's it! Right there! That's the good stuff! Took me ages to get the essence of [Death] into a one ring magic circle. Anti-life isn't a simple element like [Fire] or even [Lightning]. In several ways, even [Undeath] is easier than the enemy of [Life].

No, not the opposite of life. Even undeath is life, after a fashion. And holy shit did that revelation take for fucking ever to figure out. I wanted the enemy of life. Like matter's antimatter. Naturally repelling each other. And suffering mutual annihilation when forced to meet.

Which is what I did when I shot him through his stomach… and dantian. So, right now. His physical and spiritual bodies are being devoured from the inside out. Technically, the anti-life is being eaten up too. Just from the outside in. But the overcharged [Death] spell has enough juice to make whatever scraps remain of his body and spirit? Unsalvageable.

Even by gods.

Maybe the system can do something. Like, if it has backups of everything somewhere. But I've found no evidence of there being any so far. Yep, a Longdead is about the most painful and permanent way you can go.

*fzzzz*

Which makes the fact that it sounds like a fizzy drink? A little off putting. 

*aaiiyyeeee*

Oh, Colin's still screaming. He just can't breath right now so the screeching wail hovering at the edge of your consciousness? That's coming from his soul. Sadly, it won't be much longer now.

*fzzzz*

Strands of oily smoke rise from his still trembling floating body. More of his flesh and soul being consumed. Pity he's got all that armor on. It's hiding the show.

Hehe, there goes his head. And…

*aiyeesshhh…* *clang*

The spiky red armor lands on the asphalt. In a heap because there isn't enough flesh and bone left within to support it. What remains of his soul disintegrates. Not enough survived to even go wherever it was supposed to go. So it just… scatters into the astral wind.

I frown, squint and start mumbling to myself. Tilt my head a little one way. Then the other way. And finally nod a couple of times.

Definitely just an A-grade. Which is disappointing. Hoped all his buffs might have, defensively at least, bumped him from C to S temporarily. But that was just an A, Gold rank. Bummer.

Only had the chance to use a Longdead Special on an S-grade once before. So I would really like more examples to reference. Oh well, if I'm still around after the integration maybe I'll go on a safari.

Look rather dashing in a pith helmet if I do say so myself.

*ding*

Eh?

• [ Champion of Bah'al destroyed ]
• [ Deity Bah'al has been injured ]
• [ Congratulations, you have enough achievements to advance to Gold rank. Breakthrough possible ]
• [ Congratulations, breakthrough successful. Human grade advanced to Gold ]

Sweet.

"Y-your majesty?" Oh, it's looie. Who's looking rather pale.

In fact, quite a few folks are. Even my ladies appear a bit peaked. Ah, I see, several threw up. Yeah, you can't truly understand the [Anti-life] experience until you, well, experience it. Which can be pretty rough on tender tummies.

I let out a contented sigh. "You know, it's times like these that really make it all worthwhile." Catch a slight whiff of fundamental wrongness in the air. "Don't you agree, lieutenant?"

"I…" Admirably struggles to stay professional. "I do not know what to think, your majesty."

Nod. "Well done, looie. Keep being honest. Or at least do a good enough job of pretending to be. And I'm sure you'll go far." Head tilt. "Did you have something to say?"

"Ah, yes." My words jog her memory. "Scouts report goblin and orc sightings in the ruins to the east, sire. Hundreds of them. And they are heading this way."

Frown again. "Shit, the sharks smell blood in the water." Face the [Town Hall I ]. "Better get this done before the monsters get here. Redeploy Alpha to Lorraine and Charlie to Dwight. Orders are to defend them and the wall." Hear more firing from the north. "And tell Bravo to stomp on those fucking mercenaries."

"Y-yes lord!" Evelyn runs over and helps the still nauseous radioman stand while relaying orders.

Motion to my under the weather harem and guards. "Move your ass, girls. Clock's ticking." And I walk away. Heading for the [Community Stone]. 

Should be able to claim it. There shouldn't be anyone left who is strong enough or leading enough to challenge me. Of course that might change if hundreds of goblins and orcs get in. So better hustle.

<BledWhiteHeart: John, please… Never use that again.>

Hehe, oh you sweet summer child you.

<BledWhiteHeart: It felt horrible just to be near it.>

Well matter's antimatter can have that effect.

<BledWhiteHeart: …What?>

Sigh as I keep walking.

Listen, I didn't start this. And the ones who did are gone now. So I can't touch them. But I can sure as hell touch the rest of you.

<BledWhiteHeart: John…>

<Nina: Stop, you do not know what's been. What is. And what still needs to be. If you want to be with him? Then you must accept it all.>

<BledWhiteHeart: …>

<Nina: She's gone. … I'm sorry.>

Hey, not your fault things turned out this way. Never ceases to amaze me that so many choose to stay. After learning, well, everything.

<Nina: But->

I walk through the town hall's wide open doors.

No, stop. It is what it is. Again, I didn't start it. But I'm sure as fuck going to finish it.

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