Chapter 141: Chapter 136

“Your expensive toys don’t make you divine, Wizard, and there’s no such thing as magic.” I removed his spectacles and tossed them across the room with his cane. The spellbook followed. After that, I fished the magic rings from his pocket and tossed them aside as well. Nothing else glowed on him, so I assumed him disarmed.

“Hey Phill!” I shouted. “Keep an eye on the magic asshole. I’ve got an elf to kill.”

Her gun arm locked the plasma blade weapon form in place and fired it up, the blade jutting through the tile floor and pouring more smoke into the room as I left.

The wooden wall had hidden a private residence, spread out around the top floor. It was in ruins, so I picked a gaping hole with flames licking around its edges and hopped through.

Shilara opened fire on me with both sidearms, aiming for my legs. The first few bolts seared through my legs before I dropped, covering behind my gauntlets until she holstered her weapons and ran.

A lush living quarters spread out in front of me, clearly the Wizard’s personal lounge. Expensive bottles of alien hooch even sat in a crystal cart on golden wheels. I clenched a fist and smashed it, to the delight of the little cartoon starfish in my head who tells me what to do.

Rova slammed into me from behind, her tail coiling around me as her strong arms wrapped around my throat and squeezed. She meant to kill me without breaking my skin, to keep the suit at bay.

I stuck my metal encased fingers in my own side and tore them free, spraying the Nah’gh woman with blood. The suit erupted tendrils to repair the damage, and she immediately let go. My gauntlet closed around her arm as she fled, and I crushed down as hard as I could, expecting the bone to break. It didn’t, and she slammed her fangs onto my chest, hard.

She didn’t have teeth like Molls, hers were two hard daggers that injected scalding venom.

I grimaced, and then roared in pain as the suit went to work, fixing me internally. Her venom burned, and the suit tearing out pieces of me to keep ahead of it didn’t help with the pain. I twisted, and Rova pulled back. She was nearly as strong as I was, clearly infused with multiple stat shots.

So I activated the suits final breaker ability and watched as her arm fell free from her body, dust and blood mixing immediately in her elbow socket. Rova stared in horror at the missing limb, and gripped what remained of her arm, drawing in a long, ragged breath to scream with.

After the gut wrenching scream of loss and terror left her, she glared at me, still gripping her arm. “You-you’ve mutilated me!” she screamed.

The elf was gone. She’d let Rova distract me and hidden somewhere in the residence.

“Shall I kill you too, Rova?” I asked, leaning in to stare at her with my mask. “Or will you give me what I want? Call Shilara out here, now.”

“Shil!” Rova screamed, slumping against the wall, and clutching at her bleeding stump. “Shil, help me!” Her voice faltered toward the end.

Something flashed by the window with bright orange wings, catching my attention momentarily. I braced for attack, but the object did not return. It had been small, far too small to be a vehicle.

“Shilara!” Rova cried, her voice weakening.

I turned away and stalked through the lounge. “Shilara,” I taunted. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Before I got too far into the upscale apartment, I stopped and growled. “Come out and face me, now, or I go kill your boss.”

She appeared, as if from nothing, at my side and slammed a magically sharp sword through my stomach, right under the lines of my suit. It hit the suit on the other side of my spine and ricocheted out of her hands. The familiar looking weapon spun into the wall and hung, exposed hilt vibrating.

I fell as my legs and torso stopped communicating, but I had a grip on the elf’s leg, and clamped down. She drew both pistols and began rapid firing into me from above. The suit began fixing me, and she adjusted her aim to ensure no tendrils came near her, firing pin-prick after pin-prick of scalding plasma through my torso, hips, and legs.

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Still, I held her leg in my grasp. I roared in pain, riding wave after wave of painkiller. My cartoon starfish appeared to make its usual demands, so I slammed the heel of my fist into the floor. Cracks spiderwebbed from the impact and the cartoon began to dance in joy.

I tried to crush the elf’s bones, but again my enhanced strength was countered. She set herself and when I tried to haul her feet out from beneath her, she merely kicked me in the face for it and resumed firing.

She knew how to kill me, but the suit was keeping up with the damage. The elf with her carefully destructive aim kept my spine from healing, and I began to feel the encroaching dark of my physical limits. Once I lost consciousness, it would be over.

With a grunt of exertion, I reared back on my belly and slugged the elf in the side of the knee as hard as I could. It popped, a gristly, tearing sound, and Shilara screamed in sudden agony.

Her balance shifted expertly to her other limb, and she yanked the wounded leg free from me with another scream of pain. Her weapons went back into their holsters, cooling vapor humming from the metal covers, and she produced an ampule from one of her many small pockets.

With a grunt of pain, she slammed the ampule into her knee and screamed as it began to repair itself. The limb straightened violently with another hollow, wet, pop. Shilara kept her balance on one leg as her other limb shook out before taking weight.

I watched, dumbfounded. It somehow felt like cheating when they did it to me. My new spine piece popped into place, and I carefully climbed to my feet from a pool of my own gore. The suit rapidly sewed my belly closed with lasers, as dozens of other tendrils worked to fix the pin-pricks of plasma that had punched through my lower back and legs.

Shilara dropped back and drew two knives with falcon-beak curves. I was breathing heavily, and torn up already, so I stood and threw my arms wide as she struck. She dove in and stabbed with both blades, sinking one into my heart, and the other my lung several times. I gasped and choked, but slammed my arms closed around her and squeezed.

She slammed her forehead into my mask, carefully aiming between the horns. So I told the mask to grow a new one with a thought, as she headbutt me again. A small gasp emitted from the elf woman, and she went still. The helmet retracted the small spike, and I let her fall to the ground.

The mortblock was in a small pouch at the small of her back. When I activated it, the entire state lit up on my map. I owned Arizona, and a fraction of the areas around it.

Dearth’s space elevator was mine, all the way up to the orbital station it was docked into. An arrangement of heavy docking ports at the top flashed in red to indicate a coverage boundary, but the entirety of the elevator and space-port it was attached to were mine.

The coverage of my new mortblock system included everything except the tiny dot that was Silken Sands and extended below ground in several places. The Arms Keepers militia mining facility was one, and it extended deeper below ground than even Silken Sands. Even the building I stood in was nearly as deep as it was tall.

I snapped out of it as my suit finished repairing my body and the painkiller began to fade. Phyllis was screaming, suddenly. I raced back into the board room, shoving the mortblock into my pocket with the rest, and stopped dead.

The Wizard had Phyllis and her mech held against the wall, his hand sparking with power. As soon as I got close enough, he grabbed me with his other hand, and electricity flowed through my body freely. Too late, my helmet showed me the glowing nails on his thumbs.

A hidden, implanted weapon that incapacitated both me and Phyllis. I rocked back, my teeth grit together by involuntary muscle spasms that one of them cracked, and a corner fell loose. The electricity flowed through me, stopping my heart, lungs, and all ability to function. My anti-magic helmet flickered and fluctuated, unable to counter the energy now that it had made contact.

The Wizard had us, his arms extended, one enemy helpless in either hand. A dog barked from outside the window, and the paralyzing shocking power of the Wizards hands was suddenly torn free. He flew backwards and slammed into the wall, tumbling onto the tile in a heap.

Doofus glided in the window on bright orange hard-light glider wings, that extended from his new harness. As he landed in the rubble of the destroyed conference room, his triangular wings sparked and fizzled as they faded out.

The dog raced across the room and leapt into my arms, licking my soot covered face as I clutched him and wept into my helmet. Doofus was alive. Alive and full of tricks, with expensive toys of his own. A frown crossed my features as I wondered where the hell he was getting all his morties, but then I just clutched him to myself.

“Good boy, Doofus,” I rasped, my throat constricted. “Good, handsome, smart boy.”

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