This tenacity in the face of hard times, this unyielding persistence in the face of suffering, this defiance when the whole world seemed to be against you – all of these qualities were something only the wastelands could teach!
If we survive this tribulation and he becomes a demon hunter, he’ll definitely surpass me!
But almighty gods, why would you let such a man be born into a life within these blighted lands?
1. I believe in typical people the thickness between the dermis and the lungs is an inch and a half on average. Not a lot of room to play with.
53 A New Relic
Like a roaring yellow earth dragon, the cloud came roiling over them. Dense and thick, the choking sands spread over a vast area. Like ten thousand trampling elephants, the thunderous sound swallowed up the wasteland, as spectacular as it was formidable.
Gusts of wind were like knives and each grain of sand stabbed like a blade. Day became night and for two hours, the wrath of nature held sway.
The sandstorm had passed relatively quickly but sunlight couldn’t permeate the dust-muddled air. So shrouded and chaotic was the scene that one couldn’t see ten meters in front of one’s nose.
Stranger Black, Vulture and Longhorn had just arrived at the scene of the chase. Their sweepers had scattered to avoid the sandstorm and were busily trying to regroup and resume their search.
“Did they really slip away again?” Vulture beat his large wings, enough to keep him suspended in the air. “They’re badly injured, have no water or food, and ran headfirst into a goddamn sandstorm. Barring some miracle, they have to be dead.”
“If they’re alive, we hunt them down. If they’re dead, we get their corpses.” Stranger Black was able to speak again, though clearly his newly formed nerves were still adapting. He spoke and moved sluggishly. “The sandstorm probably erased any trail so we’ll have to expand the search area. Letting them get away again is not an option.”
Cloudhawk clawed his way out from the sand-filled rubble, gasping for breath. He hacked violently to try and expel the sand from his lungs while pulling the Queen out of hiding.
“Wake up – let’s go, wake up!”
He pulled off her mask and gave her back a few sharp slaps, to which the Queen responded by coughing up a mouthful of half-congealed blood. Her pretty face was caked in grime and streaked with blood, framed by hair that had lost its glossy shine behind a film of dirt. Her wretched state inspired pity.
The Queen’s eyelashes quavered for a moment as she struggled to open her eyes. Grave as her injuries were, the demon hunter’s eyes were as bright as starlight glinting off a lake surface. Like invaluable gemstones, they had an enigmatic, almost mystical attraction.
She looked all around them curiously. “I’m still alive?”
“Fuck, of course you’re still alive!” Cloudhawk beamed happily. “All throughout my shit life I’ve been able to scrape my way out of hopeless situations like this!”
She pursed her parched lips and said lifelessly, “I guess I should thank you.”
Cloudhawk didn’t let it get to his head. He may have saved their lives for the time being, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. He had been under assault from the wilds to the outpost to now. Wounds peppered him from head to toe. His healing prowess stitched the wounds but did not eliminate the risk of infection. He just hoped his body would be able to hold out.
Cloudhawk hadn’t had an opportunity to close his eyes for two whole days and nights. Even his natural affinity for healing required energy and he hadn’t had so much as a scrap of food or a drop of water. He was exhausted, drained, hungry, and thirsty – and the Queen was worse off. How could they get to safety under these conditions?
Cloudhawk croaked through his dry throat at the Queen. “Can you move?”
The Bloodsoaked Queen stretched and twisted, testing her beleaguered muscles, but couldn’t get herself to stand. Her outward wounds weren’t terrible: she only had relatively shallow punctures in her chest, shoulder and thigh. She was certainly strong enough to handle those. What threatened her life were the internal injuries, damage to her organs from the blow she received from Longhorn. If she’d been almost anyone else, the punch would have reduced her bones to powder. The fact she stood breathing was nothing short of extraordinary.
“Nothing we can do about it, then. Rest, try and feel better.” He scanned the horizon. “After the sandstorm, I figure it’ll be a little while before they find us again. I’ll look around nearby and see if I can find us some water.”
Both of them were on the cusp of dehydration. With no water or liquid alternative, Cloudhawk couldn’t go far even if he were twice as strong. Finding something to drink in the wastelands was difficult on the best of days, and especially difficult after a sandstorm.
Cloudhawk knew their chances were slim to none, but he had to try. What option did he have? If he didn’t find some water, they would die!
Feebly, he stumbled into the wastes. Now that the sandstorm had passed, the temperature was steadily rising and the wastelands were becoming a sauna. It was quickly sapping what little fluid Cloudhawk had left in him. His vision was growing dim and the dunes beneath his feet seemed to undulate. His legs shook like blades of grass in the breeze, threatening to give out at any moment.
Everywhere he looked, he saw rocks and sand. Not even a single lonely weed could be found. Things were bad. Things were really bad.
Just as Cloudhawk was about to give in to his despair, he caught a glimpse of something. His eyes went wide as he recognized what was right in front of him. It was the body of the mutant centipede, the one the Bloodsoaked Queen had burned to death.
The meat of the creature was toxic and poison flowed through its meat like blood. It was inedible for humans, but that didn’t mean it was inedible for everything. A group of strange creatures had appeared around the body, each one weighing roughly fifteen to twenty kilograms. The fur covering them was the same color as their surroundings, making them hard to spot from a distance. Sharp claws and teeth glinted in the harsh light of day, and they used them to carve out scraps that weren’t soaked in poison.
Meat eating scourge hares! Mutant rabbits!
These creatures ate meat, but preferred insects. They were timid by nature and didn’t often go after prey bigger than themselves. Scourge hares were fast, faster even than rotwolves, so chasing them down was no easy task.
Cloudhawk was in no condition to be chasing rabbits around the desert. He doubted he could even run if he had to. What to do!?
Perhaps he could throw a rock and kill one?
It was the best plan he could come up with, but the rabbits were vigilant. There wasn’t any cover to use while he snuck up on them so Cloudhawk likely couldn’t get closer than thirty or forty meters. Too far to be confident of hitting one of the rabbits, much less killing one before it gets away.
But it was his only shot! For him and the Queen, the difference between living and dying could depend on his success right now.
Cloudhawk only had his exorcist rod as a weapon. He’d used his revolver on the rat king, but had lost it somewhere in the ensuing struggle.
But wait! He had another relic!
When he passed through that mysterious, unknown realm, Cloudhawk had pilfered two artifacts from the remains he found. Up till now, he hadn’t tried to use them and didn’t know what they did.
Only, whatever these relics were, they were of a much higher caliber than his exorcist rod. He had enough willpower left to try one, he figured. But which one?
His cloak hadn’t shown any special qualities so far, though it was tough and protective. Neither arrow nor sword had been able to pierce it thus far. In fact, it’d already saved his life. He decided to give it a shot and pour what power he had remaining into the cloak.
He shut his eyes and opened his mind, seeking resonance with the relic.
Immediately, he sensed that the cloak was of much higher quality than the exorcist rod. Using the novice weapo
n once or twice was manageable, but this time, communicating with the relic took several times the effort. Eventually, he achieved that resonance and it began to quiver and vibrate.
Much to Cloudhawk’s surprise, he suddenly felt much lighter, as if resistance from air and gravity had disappeared. All of a sudden, he felt like he could bound ten meters in a single stride. As the seconds ticked by, the inky black cloak dulled. Rather, it was more accurate to say it vanished.
He wrapped the cloak around himself and peered down at his body, only to find he could see right through where his ass should be to the sand below. This relic made him lighter, removed obstructions, bent light around him, and made him faster.
Cloudhawk wanted to smack himself in his own stupid face! If only he’d known, he wouldn’t be so far up shit creek!
He experimented for a few moments, unhurried, before the vibration of the cloak withered and faded. It appeared the effects lasted only for a dozen seconds or so, meaning he had to pay close attention to timing. He flung the hood over his head and wrapped himself in his cloak, and all of a sudden, he was gone.
Cloudhawk moved quickly, but made no sound. He was hardly adept at sneaking, so from time to time, a length of his leg or a portion of face was revealed. It was more than strange to have disembodied limbs and faces appear out of nowhere only to vanish again a second later. He shuffled toward the scourge hares as quickly as he could.
…… Several minutes later.
The scent of blood slithered into the Queen’s nostrils. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Cloudhawk holding up two fat rabbits in his hands. The hares had large puncture wounds in their throats that continuously leaked blood.
“We’re shit outta luck for water, but the blood will quench our thirst. It should at least help us recover some strength.”
The Queen’s brow wrinkled, apparently displeased with the prospect. This fur-eating, blood-drinking diet was no different from what wastelands fiends gorged on. She was a noble demon hunter! But there was hardly a buffet to choose from so she had to make do with the pungent, salty rabbit blood to sate her thirst. He was right. At least it’d help her regain her strength.
Cloudhawk took up the knife and began to flay their meal.
The Queen took tentative sips of blood. She was already beginning to feel better. “These wounds on the rabbits look like they were inflicted by an exorcist rod. How were you fast enough to get in close enough for a strike?”
“You shouldn’t underestimate me,” Cloudhawk said haughtily. He paused as though thinking of something. He then wiped his bloody hands on his clothes and dug something out from within his cloak. It was a gourd, an exquisite specimen about the size of his palm. He handed it to her. “Right, take a look and see if you can tell me how to use this.”
“This is…” She knew the moment she saw it. Its shape and texture were nothing like what you’d find in the wastelands. When she saw a familiar rune etched on the bottom of the gourd, she audibly gasped. “How do you get this relic?”
“I found it,” he said, honestly.
“Impossible!” She didn’t believe him for a moment. “This isn’t some low-level trinket. These sorts of relics have to be registered in the holy city. Anywhere, in any city or territory, if a demon hunter’s relic goes missing, it’s a big deal. The city would certainly dispatch a team to investigate where it went and recover it. And you just found it lying around?!”
“Yup.” His response was flippant and irritated. “So how the fuck do I use it?”
The Bloodsoaked Queen took a moment to get her emotions under control. Clearly, Cloudhawk wasn’t interested in sharing more details. She turned the relic over in her hands a few times, examining every inch closely. Her attention fell on an inscription, god script carved into the gourd’s surface. “This relic is called the ‘Phoenix Furnace.’ From the inscription, we can assume it is related to fire.”1
Cloudhawk was overtly curious. It was one of the relics he’d come across in the other world, but did that mean these two worlds shared a similar system of writing? It wasn’t a coincidence and it couldn’t be that simple.
He decided not to worry about it for now. “Can you use it?”
The Queen’s will was particularly attuned to fire relics. When she cradled the small gourd in her hand, Cloudhawk could feel ripples of power radiating from it. He knew it to be a sign that the relic was awakening.
An inferno sputtered to life from within.
The fire itself was strange, rising maybe three or four meters. The fires didn’t melt the gourd and instead coalesced into the image of a large-winged phoenix. The mystical bird of fire circled around her.
The Bloodsoaked Queen waved her hand and at her command, the phoenix lunged as though it understood. With breakneck speed it raced towards a boulder and smashed into it. Flames devoured both rock and bird.
“By the almighty gods above…”
“This is an absolutely perfect relic!”
The Queen was so excited that she nearly prostrated herself in worship before the relic. An artifact like this was as excellent as any godly heirloom, and it had somehow fallen into Cloudhawk’s dirty clutches!
That same scummy wastelander stared at the molten boulder in awe. He could sense that the Queen had summoned only a small portion of what the gourd could do, and even that small portion was highly destructive. If she poured all her will into it, she would be unthinkably strong.
“Well shit, you seem able to use it. Keep it.”
“You… what did you…” She stared at him like she was eyeing some freak. “Do you have any idea how much this relic is worth?”
“Doesn’t matter how much it’s worth. If I can’t use it, then it’s garbage.” He waggled the exorcist rod and went on. “Tit for tat, you gave me something and I’m returning the kindness. I’ll get more use out of the staff than this gourd.”
The Queen was speechless. She could get a hundred exorcist staffs in exchange for this relic and it still wouldn’t be enough.
He didn’t care what it was worth. On one hand, he had no concept of what a relic went for in the market and on the other, he couldn’t use it even if he did. Right now, the two of them were sailors in the same proverbial busted rowboat. The stronger the Queen was, the safer he would be.
Besides, there was another important reason.
Cloudhawk had the nagging feeling that once he managed to control the mysterious stone in his possession, he’d be able to strafe between worlds at will. He could use that power to search for these discarded artifacts through the resonance they produced. Obviously he couldn’t do that if he was dead, so the first order of business was to make sure he stayed breathing. Anything else was not important and could be given up.
54 Supported in Life and Death
The wastelands were a barren, scorching hellscape. Like a sea of fire, this blighted plane drained every ounce of water from the humans who traversed it. In order to avoid being burnt to a crisp or dying of dehydration, the two fugitives were forced to stop in a shaded crevice to wait out the hottest part of the day.
The skin of the scourge rabbits was left out to cure on a scorching rock. Its meat, chopped into small squares, was roasted as well.
Rabbit meat was a delectable wasteland treat, rich in fats and oils. It was also a rare find. Cloudhawk didn’t eat much for two reasons. First, there was no water to wash it down and overeating would make him all the more thirsty. Second, he wasn’t sure when their next opportunity to come across a meal would be. The beasts of the wastelands were many, but only a few of them were safe to eat. It was smarter to save some of the rabbit just in case.
“If we wander around blindly, we’re gonna die.” Cloudhawk looked out over the rolling expanse of desert. His eyes betrayed his thoughts – he was at a loss and didn’t know where to go. “Let’s go to the Elysian lands.”
Vengeance for Slyfox and Mad Dog would have to wait. Now wasn’t the time.
The power of the black hand behind the curt
ain was too great. At least a thousand sweepers answered his beck and call, with three mighty lieutenants guiding them. Of course, this assessment was based on just what they’d seen. The number of soldiers there really were in service of this demon was still unknown. They didn’t even know what the demon himself was capable of.
They were one badly wounded Bloodsoaked Queen and one weak Cloudhawk. The fact they were still alive was in itself a miracle. If they didn’t find water soon, that could change and it was increasingly unlikely they’d last through the night. How could they even begin to talk about how to fight back?
Hunting down demons was now a hopeless task. But would making their way to the Elysian lands bring them hope? Leagues of wastelands stretched far and wide, covering every inch of this territory. Making their way across would take as much luck as nerve, and no one knew what they might encounter in the unknown kilometers between here and there.
If they were destined to die in the wastelands, the Bloodsoaked Queen preferred to go down fighting. It was the nature and pride of a demon hunter.
“Ah, I just don’t get it.” Cloudhawk could see the resolute light in the Queen’s eyes, her determination even in the face of death. “Why the hell are you so pissed at this demon? Why would you give up the safety and comfort of the Elysian lands to go on a suicide mission you refuse to let go of. What did he do to you?”
The Bloodsoaked Queen was young, intelligent, beautiful and skilled. She was perfect and filled with such potential. He just didn’t get why she’d give all that up, a bright future, for a weird obsession with this monster of the wastelands? Cloudhawk couldn’t help but voice his confusion.
Normally, the Queen’s haughty nature would prevent her from explaining anything to this faithless, dishonorable heathen. But Cloudhawk was surprised to hear her voice, heavy with sorrow and pain.
The Wastelander Page 41