Blood of Fate

by Dan Sugralinov

  Bones, skin, vein walls — all had been reinforced. Even outside of his combat form, every vital organ was protected by a layer of fat and chrome steel, armored with titanium found by a miracle in Lentz’s surgical tools. Nobody could pierce the emperor’s skin with any kind of bladed weapon. The strength of the Sacred Mother kept Ma Ju Ro safe, or so thought his retinue Lentz, Hector and Hustig, but in reality, his strength wasn’t mystical, it was entirely real. Except that it was from another world.

  Ma Ju Ro had gotten thinner. He was still considered fat, and he had plenty of excess weight, but his metamorphosis had processed around forty pounds of his most harmful visceral fat. It was nothing when compared with the two hundred-odd that remained, but his progress was bearing fruit. It was even getting easier for the emperor to walk.

  There was a reason that the first things his metamorphosis improved were his knees and his spine, to improve his posture and not damage his joints and ligaments as they carried his huge weight. The increased muscle mass allowed him to keep his back straight in any situation, and Keirinia was the first to notice his strengthened arms, when in the bedroom the emperor began to easily life the girl up and hold her for as long as he wanted.

  Yes, he had become a real man. The night after Yadugara’s award ceremony, when Keirinia and Kora returned from the markets to show off their purchases, he felt incredibly tired. Kora, realizing that something was going on between her brother and her new friend, spoke delicately.

  “Your majesty, may I be excused to go and rest? My first day in the palace was so full of new experiences! I’m very tired!”

  “Of course, Kora, go, rest,” Ma Ju Ro allowed.

  Once alone with Keirinia, he felt his breath catch with desire for her. His courtesan, who had for some reason washed off all her makeup, looked so innocent and pure that the devilish gleam in her eye made his decision for him. He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom without a word. Then the entire world had disappeared, leaving him nothing but a beautiful, limber and hot woman’s body. Keirinia knew all about sex, and she guessed Luca’s passing wishes in mere moments, proving beyond all doubt that she’d been the real Ma Ju Ro’s favorite for more than just her looks.

  As the dawn came unnoticed, feeling a song in his soul, he realized that he had discovered an activity so fine and magical that life was worth living solely for it. Since then, with all his ability to possess any woman of the Empire, he had lain only with one. Keirinia.

  It was paradoxical, but at the same time he felt entirely certain that although he felt very fond and gentle feelings toward his courtesan, he did not love her, and merely gratefully accepted...

  “We’re here, y’majesty.”

  Ma Ju Ro shook himself from his thoughts and realized that they’d stopped on the coast, next to a cliff jutting out like a predatory sabertooth fang from the mountain range beyond the city. A vague shadow with a torch in hand stood by the entrance to a cave. It took a step forward and the light lit up an old face disfigured by a terrible scar. The sea breeze occasionally tousled sparse grey hair.

  “My name is Law,” the old man introduced himself in a hoarse voice. “First let me warn you, we have many places like this. It will not be used after this meeting, so even if you plan to return with the watch, forget it.”

  Law took Ma Ju Ro deep into the cave to a narrow pass blocked by stones. He whistled. A nightingale trill echoed out in response, then the groan of a winding winch and the scrape of a wheel. The stones — or the scenery that looked like stones — rose along with a previously unseen platform about three feet into the air, then stopped.

  “You’ll have to crawl through, your majesty,” Weasel explained embarrassedly. He leaned down and shouted through the gap, “Hey, back there! Lift it up a little more! Our honored guest is a little on the fat side!”

  “Tell him to take a shit!” someone shouted from the other side, braying in laughter.

  Luca imagined crawling under the stones and that joker dropping the whole mess on him. That would be that, the end of Ma Ju Ro the fourth, all hail the new emperor Rezsinius! A little alarmed by that possibility, he put the situation to his metamorphosis and got an unsatisfying answer.

  Modeling of situation “10-Ton Pressure” completed.

  Analyzing...

  Modeling countermeasure...

  Recommended transformation...

  Not enough materials to morph carrier’s body!

  Requires...

  There were a lot of requirements. Metals, time to transform the body, Wheel energy. There was no issue with the latter, but as for where he could find a hundred pounds of titanium, not to mention wolfram and iridium, Luca had no idea. He doubted that metal like that could be found anywhere in this society, at least on Syahr.

  “So will his fatness crawl through, or has he already pissed himself?” Law asked.

  Not justifying the old man with a response, Ma Ju Ro abruptly dived into the gap and moved his limbs as fast as he could, pulling himself through on his elbows, tearing his clothes and scratching his back and his neck. Three seconds later, he climbed to his feet next to the dazed joker and impassively brushed himself off. The joker stood with saber in hand and a blank stare.

  “Hey, Ramzets, what’s happening?”

  “Our visitor...” The joker swallowed. “Is on this side. We taking him to the Circle?”

  “Dumbass,” the old man swore mildly.

  A minute later, he and Weasel had also crawled through the gap. The old man pierced Ramzets — a bedraggled vagrant with goggle-eyes and a drooping lower lip — with a disgusted gaze and silently wandered deeper into the cave. Ma Ju Ro and Weasel followed after him.

  They walked for almost a whole hour through endless dark tunnels, turning in unexpected places, and Luca could have sworn he was being led in circles and had walked past the same spot more than once.

  Finally they reached a large cave lit by torches hanging on the walls. A large puddle glimmered in its center, reflecting the playful torchlight, and bandits sat around it on smoothed boulders and stones.

  A mottled crowd of people among which Ma Ju Ro noticed both wild-looking girls and brightly over-painted ladies. But most of those present were men, and of the most aggressive breed — those for whom the lives of others meant precisely nothing, those who made a living off evil. Luca hadn’t seen such a wide variety of people even on the porch of the Temple of the Sacred Mother, and all kinds of different people visited there. Bearded, tattooed, foppish, in rags... Elegant youths with patterns shaved into their beards, rakishly dressed in the latest fashion, rubbing shoulders with bare-chested giants with murderous eyes... But however varied they seemed, every last one emanated threat. If Luca had classified the degree of threat, he would have given it one of the highest possible ratings of danger.

  The old man Law led Ma Ju Ro to the center of the cave, pointing out a place in the puddle. It went up to his knees. In the meantime, Weasel had disappeared somewhere, dissolving into the mass of people.

  The crowd stirred when the emperor appeared. Some laughed derisively, some whistled so loudly that the echo from the walls overwhelmed the ears.

  A massive figure separated from a group sitting in a far corner. The conversations steadily quietened.

  The figure came into full view and Luca realized that this was Ignatius the Furious himself. He had a short haircut in the manner of gladiators, with monstrously huge arms and a powerful torso visible under his silk shirt with rolled up sleeves. Expensive bracelets decorated his wrists, and a gold chain encircled his bullish neck. The leader of the Empire’s criminal underworld moved as lightly and quietly as a Jamalayan tiger, and a broad smile was frozen on his face.

  “Why’s everyone so quiet? Brothers! Sisters!” Ignatius spread his hands, summoning the crowd. “Let us welcome Emperor Ma Ju Ro the Fourth, who isn’t as lowly a coward as we thought!”

  The crowd roared, whooped and laughed, throwing all kinds of garbage at the outsider. An apple core hi
t him in the cheek, a weighty stone struck his shoulder. If Luca had counted on even a shred of respect — he was still the emperor, after all! — then that illusion was shattered. He wasn’t welcome here.

  “Greetings, Ma Ju Ro!” Ignatius roared. Everyone fell silent, waiting for the show to continue. “Those street screamers of yours have been sayin’ you want to challenge me. That so? Cat caught your tongue?”

  “Yes, Ignatius, I hereby challenge you. Personally, as you can see.”

  The people whispered, someone shouted something and everyone laughed. Ignatius waited for the people to calm down, then grabbed Luca by the collar and tried — and failed — to lift him up. His tone turned malevolent.

  “And what in Two-horns’ name makes you think that just anyone can challenge me, pig? Who the hell are ya? What makes you think you’ve earned this? Huh?”

  He shouted those final words right into Luca’s face. Only then did the emperor realize that Ignatius was mad with fury, feral. The eyes of Ignatius the Furious were bloodshot and piercing.

  “Because, murderer, I am the emperor!” Ma Ju Ro shouted. He grabbed Ignatius by the collar himself and tried to lift him, but the shirt didn’t hold and ripped. “This is my city! My land! My country!”

  “You’re stark-raving mad!” Ignatius said in amazement. “You idiot, your brains have finally filled with fat! I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into your head, but now I know one thing for sure; we don’t need a ruler like you! How many years did you drink the people’s blood? Huh? Here’s my answer: suck off everyone here...”

  “And lick!” a lady of ill repute in the crowd hollered.

  “... and then we’ll think about whether to let you call anyone from the thieves’ brotherhood to the Circle!”

  “Then we’d better start calling you Ignatius the Weak, coward!” Ma Ju Ro shouted.

  Ignatius bared his teeth and patted the emperor on the cheek.

  “You’re going to regret this, wretch. I swear, by morning the entire city will see your empty head with your dismembered cock in your mouth in Merchant Square!”

  He cast a glance over the quiet audience and shouted:

  “I call the captains to the Circle!” He turned back to the emperor and spoke quietly. “You, you disgusting pig, if you want to fight me, you’ll have to go through all my captains first!”

  Four men stepped into the puddle. They bared their teeth and stood next to Ignatius.

  “Allow me to introduce them, piggy! One of these faces will be the last one you see in your meaningless life, maggot! My captains: Rokkan, Khudoyar, Kerkion and Otolik! If you can handle them, then you’ll have the honor of dying at my hands! Which will you challenge first?

  The cave fell silent as the grave. The captains kept their eyes fixed on the emperor, an amused smirk on the face of each.

  “It doesn’t matter who goes first. I’ll kill them all!” Ma Ju Ro answered.

  An amazed whisper spread through the bandit lair. Ma Ju Ro walked around the circle, gazing at the onlookers, and shouted:

  “I am Ma Ju Ro, the Fourth of His Name, Overlord of the Entire World, chosen by the Sacred Mother to defend all her people and the living world, bound by blood to the founder of the Empire Ma Ju Ro the First, Sire and Vanquisher! And I challenge all four of you. Who among you is brave enough to go first?”

  Chapter 40. Circle of Captains

  AFTER A SHORT PERIOD of hesitation, the loudmouthed crowd erupted in laughter. It roared, and the overwhelming din echoing off the vaulting cave had it all: cries from shameless women, abuse from bloodthirsty men, piercing laughter, insane catcalls, unbridled snickering and scornful bleating. A cacophonous music of mayhem and excess.

  The biggest comedians clapped their hands, shouted “encore” and encouraged “his imperial hogness” to keep up the good work. The horde showed no signs of quieting, but it didn’t bother Ma Ju Ro in the slightest, and he was impossible to embarrass — he had the legacy of a traveler of dozens of worlds in his mind! On top of that, some time ago he had been developing a sonorous, well-defined voice, and Ma Ju Ro knew how to use it.

  “Looks like your captains are shitting their pants, Ignatius!” he shouted, cutting through the noise of the crowd. “No?”

  The people quietened, awaiting the spectacle’s continuation.

  “I guess I’ll take the challenge,” a swarthy and wiry man with a short pointed beard said after the noise calmed down.

  “No! I’ll take this sack of shit on first!” another said as he stepped forward, a beefy tattooed man with behemoth shoulders and a thick neck. “I’ll turn ‘im inside-out!”

  “Simmer down, Kerkion,” Ignatius placed a calming hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Rokkan accepted the challenge first, so he goes first. Now everyone out of the circle! And keep quiet!” he shouted, addressing the last to the crowd. “Rokkan the Black has accepted Ma Ju Ro’s challenge!”

  Mere heartbeats later, the puddle that symbolized the Circle was empty save for the two combatants. The captain walked right up to Ma Ju Ro.

  “To make it clear: I don’t give a damn about Ignatius, the brotherhood or this whole shitty city,” Rokkan whispered barely audibly, slowly enunciating his words. “But the problem is you, emperor. You won’t leave here alive, even if you defeat all the captains and Ignatius to boot. But me, to tell the truth, I was brought up to respect the lawful ruler of the Empire, so I ain’t planning on appeasing these bastards’ wishes. I’ll save you, emperor. Don’t resist. I’ll skewer you just in the right place, so I don’t hit any vital organs. Play dead and I’ll drag your body out of here. Once you’ve recovered and everyone’s gone, I’ll take you to the palace!”

  Hector had given the emperor a report on Rokkan the Black. It mentioned that the man controls the wharf and all the shoreline industries, including the pearl divers, and that he had close connections with the pirates of the South Islands.

  “Enough whispering!” Ignatius shouted. “Fight!”

  Ma Ju Ro pushed Rokkan back so hard that the man lost his balance and nearly fell.

  “Play dead yourself!” he replied, and approached the enemy without lifting his feet above the water.

  “Your choice, y’majesty,” Rokkan slowly stepped back, shrugged, took out his duelling sword. He made a few swings, cutting the air. “What are you waiting for? Where’s your weapon? Draw your iron! You plannin’ to fight barehanded?”

  “My iron is with me,” Ma Ju Ro answered. “And if I need more, I’ll take yours.”

  He continued to walk with such confidence that Rokkan backed off, but he still recognized that he was holding a sword against an unarmed man, and he made a thrust, piercing the emperor’s fat stomach with the blade. Blood sprayed from the wound and fell into the water in bright red flecks. An elated roar spread throughout the cave.

  “His blood’s red! Just like ours! Give it to ‘im! Bleed that pig dry, Rokkan! Cut him to ribbons! Tear out his heart!”

  The crowd was wild and feral as it celebrated the coming victory over their hateful idiot emperor. Only the captain knew that was something was wrong. It was as if Rokkan’s sword was stuck in the emperor’s body.

  Ma Ju Ro grabbed it by its faceted blade, pulled it out of his body and then jerked it toward him, pulling in Rokkan. The man gasped, stumbled — and the emperor rushed him, still holding the sword, and head-butted him in the face. The bandit’s nose shattered as Ma Ju Ro’s metal-reinforced skull struck it. Rokkan reeled, blood flowed down his chin. The emperor pulled on the sword again, swung his right fist around in a wide circle and hit his enemy in the throat. Croaking and gasping for breath, the bandit fell, and the emperor pulled the sword from his grasp. Just as he was about to drive it into Rokkan’s throat, the man’s wail cut through the silent and shocked cave.

  “Mercy! I surrender! Have mercy, your majesty! I accept defeat and give you my right to challenge Ignatius!”

  Ma Ju Ro nodded, lowered the blade. Rokkan nimbly crawled away, covering himself in t
hick mud. Off to one side, Ignatius swore.

  “Coward!” Pathetic dog! Kerkion! You’re up! Cut out this pig’s guts!”

  The big tattooed man leapt through the crowd into the Circle, splashing the onlookers with dirty water. The other captains rose from their stones and followed, stopping in the front row. Ma Ju Ro heard the mud squelching under their feet.

  Suddenly, he saw in those criminal faces not just a barrier to his ruling of the Empire, not just an annoying wrench in the gears of progress, but entirely explicit creatures of evil, the leader of which had killed his father, the like of which had robbed his mother, taking advantage of her helplessness while she was sick.

  “You challenge me?” Kerkion spat, walking toward the emperor. “You? Me?”