Lightningbreaker

by L. T. Thornhill

  Matteo shook his head.

  “What’s the point of ruling over agriculture if you can’t hand over a little bread?” grumbled Kenji under his breath.

  The duo eventually reached a small stream. They had a few sips of water and splashed more on their faces. Kenji ran his hand down his face, pushing down any moisture still sticking to his skin. For a while, it seemed as though he was thinking about something.

  “Something you want to share?” asked Matteo.

  “Why don’t you retaliate?” asked Kenji. “You know everything there is to know about this world. That’s a powerful skill to have.”

  A sigh escaped Matteo. He had hoped that he wouldn’t find himself in a position to explain his actions. Then again, it was better now than when things were heating up and might not receive the chance to arrange his thoughts. Finding a rock big enough to be comfortable, Matteo sat down and contemplated on his answer.

  “Look,” said Matteo, feeling frustrated that he didn’t have a better start to his response than a half-hearted ‘look.’ “I like to know about this world. That’s my specialty. That’s what I did when I played the game. I’m no fighter.”

  Matteo understood that he had revealed more than he intended to, but the bullet train of his mind was already speeding toward the next statement. Before he could even clarify his thoughts, he found himself speaking. “I have only ever defended myself. At the first opportunity, I try to find an exit. That happens all the time. Heck, I got rid of that Minotaur because I knew I had to defend myself.”

  When Kenji didn’t respond, Matteo felt the need to explain himself. He didn’t know why. Maybe he wanted Kenji to say something, perhaps provide a counter-argument. Prove that he was wrong about himself. “I did not attack the Minotaur. I baited the creature to attack me.”

  A wave of exhaustion washed over Matteo, making him close his eyes for a moment.

  “Boy, you have some serious issues,” said Kenji, and raised his hands when he saw Matteo’s expression. “I was just joking.” Taking a small stone from the ground and throwing it into the stream, Kenji seemed lost in thought before finally recovering. “Here’s the deal. I don’t know why you grown-ups overcomplicate things. I guess I don’t have your problems. But I know this. If you are only going to defend yourself all your life, then you’re not going to get rid of the problem. You’re only going to keep it just beyond reach. And that’s dangerous.”

  Standing up, Kenji looked around the forest. “Shall we head out now?”

  There wasn’t much either of them could say. Matteo stood up, dusting off his pants. The beams of the sun pierced the forest at an angle that acted as a precursor to the impending dusk. “We need to move before it gets really dark.”

  Through dense foliage, fallen trees, and the near darkness of the forest, save for the little sunlight that did manage to make it through, Matteo and Kenji made their way toward the healing well as quickly as their legs could carry them. Matteo stayed in the lead, keeping his pace between a brisk walk and a jog, just to allow the smaller boy’s legs to catch up with him.

  After a while, when it seemed as though it was almost time to begin another conversation because of the lasting silence, the duo heard voices. Matteo dropped to a crouch, signaling Kenji to do the same.

  “Does this mean we’re close to the healing well? asked Kenji.

  “I don’t know,” said Matteo, but his mind was already churning out the possibilities and going through the forest layout. “They could either be taking a break, or they might have discovered the well.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Matteo nodded in agreement and set off in a crouch, watching his steps carefully to avoid stepping on a twig or a leaf or anything that could alert the group ahead. “Watch your steps,” he warned Kenji.

  Eventually, Matteo noticed a cluster of beams focused on an area ahead, but his view was covered by a large bush. It was as though several spotlights were turned to illuminate the same area. Matteo looked back at Kenji and gave a small nod. They had reached their destination.

  Coming to rest behind a fallen tree that was covered by dense plants, Matteo found a small opening on its body, allowing him to take a peek at the view beyond.

  In a small glade, Matteo saw a stone well. A simple pulley system constructed from wooden logs that supported a bucket was the only way to reach for the contents of the well. Four figures stood nearby. Two of them were leaning against a tree on the far side while one sat with his back against the well’s stone foundation. The fourth lifted the bucket to his lips, took a large gulp, and placed it atop the foundation. “I think we should just take over this spot for the next week, what do you say?”

  “I agree with Black Bird, even though he mostly spouts nonsense,” said the man leaning against the well.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like you have contributed anything worthwhile, have you?” said Black Bird, sneering at the sitting man. “Besides, I have strength. You are useless.”

  “Watch your mouth before I clamp it shut.”

  “Try me, you runt.”

  “Enough. Black Bird, control yourself. Dee Wee, stop antagonizing your brother.” The speaker was one of the men leaning against the tree. Broad-shouldered with muscles trying to rip apart his shirt, he seemed like the kind of man who made violence work for him.

  “Dee Wee?” whispered Kenji. “With a name like that, no wonder he can’t say anything worthwhile.”

  Broad-shoulders stood up, and the remaining three straightened their postures. Either that they respected him, or he held some influence over them. “Sit down, boss,” said the person who was sitting next to Broad-shoulders. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Actually, we are,” said Boss. “We definitely are going to go out there and win big, Tourd.”

  “Did he just call him a turd?” asked Kenji incredulously.

  “But where can we find Godlike?” asked Black Bird, taking another drink from the bucket and placing it on the well. Dee Wee snatched the bucket.

  “We don’t,” said Boss, thumbs tucking into his jeans. “We wait for someone else to capture him.”

  “Boy, it gets from dumb to dumber to dumbest,” chipped in Kenji. Matteo was almost going to snort out the laugh.

  “How is that going to help?” asked Tourd.

  “Simple,” said Boss. “Once we find the group who have caught Godlike, we use our weapons.”

  “So we’re going to start searching for them?” This came from Dee Wee.

  “Not yes,” said Boss, his eyes traveling to the well. “For now, I think we deserve this rest, don’t you think? Besides, we have something the other groups might not have. Weapons.”

  Kenji and Matteo shared a look.

  “Show them,” said Boss. The man known as Tourd—at this point, Matteo was considering using another name—pulled out a duffel bag from behind him and placed it between his feet. He loosened the drawstrings and removed two globular objects no bigger than his hands.

  Matteo took a deep inhale. “What are those?” asked Kenji.

  “Flash grenades,” said Matteo, his memory shifting back in time to his last encounter with Olympus.

  Leaning his back to the rough wood, Matteo began to think. There might just be more than one way of getting to the healing well. On one hand, he could wait for them to leave, although considering what the group had been discussing, that was an unlikely scenario. The only alternative left to Matteo was to actually sneak around and somehow reach the flash grenades. If Tourd was still holding on to the grenades, then there could be a fight that Matteo wasn’t keen on getting involved in.

  The problem was the four people in the immediate vicinity of the flash grenades.

  “Boss,” said Black Bird. “Do you think just two grenades will suffice?”

  “Of course,” said Boss. “With my cunning and your help, we shall be able to capture Godlike. Now put those back in the bag.” Matteo exhaled in relief after hearing Boss’s words.
No fighting required. He just needed to get to the duffel bag.

  “If he is cunning, I am Aristotle,” said Kenji.

  The figure materialized out of the forest like a ghost. It took a few seconds for Matteo to realize that there was indeed someone there. The man had shoulder-length black hair and walked with a sense of fluidity that one would see from a professional martial artist. Even the group near the well took their time to react. When they did notice him, three of the members—Black Bird, Dee Wee, and Tourd—were on their feet, their eyes throwing daggers at the newcomer. Boss took his time to turn around, as though he wanted to project an air of fearlessness.

  “Who are you?” asked Boss.

  The newcomer simply looked from one member to another before his eyes settled on the boss. Something about the man’s features tickled Matteo’s memory.

  “I see,” said Boss. “Have it your way. We are not sharing the bounty.” He waved one of his hands forward and three men converged on the newcomer.

  That was when Matteo realized he had seen the man before. It was when the prisoners were all brought together. The newcomer was the man who seemed to inspire fear to such a degree that the three members of his group stood a few feet away, as though staying near him was like approaching a radioactive material. Even now, the man seemed like a coiled snake, his expression like the rattle of the tail. At any moment, he could strike and unleash mayhem.

  The three men of Boss’s gang surrounded the newcomer. Matteo noticed that the newcomer’s hand was curled into a fist and was angled toward his body, like he was holding onto an invisible object. It was an odd posture to have. If the man wanted to strike, his fist should be straight—at least, that was what Matteo assumed. Maybe this was a unique kind of attack form. The newcomer wore long sleeves that almost covered his fist.

  Tourd lunged forward from behind the newcomer.

  What happened next took Matteo completely by surprise. The man uncoiled his fist and straightened his arm. The true reason for this posture was revealed as a hidden blade—a silver dagger with a leather handle—slid out from the sleeves of his shirt. Matteo realized the reason behind the fist. It wasn’t to prepare for an attack. Rather, it was to hide the dagger effectively.

  The man caught the handle of the knife as it reached his hand. Tourd swung his arm, but the man had already crouched. Hand flew through empty space and the newcomer spun on his toes, knife-arm stretched out. The knife collided with Tourd’s abdomen, causing golden sparks to burst out at the point of impact. Tourd was thrown back, and the remaining two members converged on the newcomer together.

  The newcomer kicked himself backwards, sailing through the gap between Black Bird and Dee Wee. He brought his fall into a backflip and was on his feet, already sprinting for the two attackers. Before Boss’s men could turn around, the newcomer had attacked men’s knees, arms, back, and even their faces in a flurry of knife strikes, each hit sending golden sparks dancing in the air.

  Black Bird and Dee Wee stayed on their feet for a span of a single breath before toppling sideways to the ground.

  The stone came out of nowhere. Boss, rather than fight the newcomer, had hurled a rock at him. The newcomer tried to deflect the projectile with his knife, but he was too slow. The rock smacked into his face and the newcomer lost his balance. Boss took advantage of the situation, charging forward with a raging howl. His fist connected with the newcomer’s solar plexus, but rather than stop there, Boss picked up the man with his fist and continued to charge. He aimed to slam the newcomer into a tree, sandwiching the man’s midsection between fist and trunk.

  Boss never got the chance. While still hanging from the charging man’s fist, the newcomer delivered repeated strikes to Boss’s face. At first, it seemed his attacks were not having any effect. Eventually, Boss began to slow down until he came to a complete stop. His fisted hand fell to his side, dropping the newcomer to the forest floor. Eventually, like his teammates, Boss fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Matteo checked Boss’s health. 80HP/500HP.

  He understood that weapons in the world acted similar to the game. He saw no cuts on Boss’s face, revealing that most of the effects of weapon damage were on the status of the person. While some effects, such as pain, were not eliminated, the gods seemed to remove the violent repercussions of physical attacks, such as blood and gore. Yet one could still feel pain or be driven to unconsciousness. Matteo wondered if this was a way for the gods to mimic the game world of Axis Mundi as much as possible.

  The newcomer lay on the ground, his hands rubbing his abdomen. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, coughing a few times. After tucking his knife into the belt of his jeans, the man slowly made his way toward the well. Using the pulley, he lowered the bucket to fill it up with the healing water. Once he pulled it back up, he took a few gulps of water, his posture changing from looking like he was in pain to looking like he suddenly had a lot of energy.

  Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he suddenly looked in Matteo’s direction. Kenji ducked behind cover, but Matteo did not move. Something told him that hiding was futile. Instead, he waited to see what the newcomer would do.

  “Godlike,” shouted the newcomer, raising his weapon to point in Matteo’s direction. “Emerge from the shadows. Face your destiny.”

  Kenji offered a look that said he was quite unsure of what to make of the way the newcomer spoke. If he stayed hidden, Matteo realized that he would just end up attacked while cowering from an opponent. While he had no plan, he figured that facing the newcomer might just be a better alternative. Perhaps he could find a way if he kept the person talking for long enough. Besides, he wanted Kenji a chance to escape if things turned violent.

  Standing up, Matteo faced the newcomer. “I am here. If you want to fight, then let me know and let’s get this over with.”

  The newcomer shook his head. “There is no honor in that. Step out into the light and allow me to see your form in all its glory.”

  “It almost sounds like he wants you to pose nude for a painting,” said Kenji.

  Matteo climbed over the large fallen trunk and stood close to it on the other side. He could perhaps use the tree to try and make it difficult for the newcomer to attack him. Staying out on the open, especially on level ground, seemed like a bad idea.

  “I admire your tactics,” said the newcomer. “It won’t serve you a victory, I am afraid.”

  “We have a long journey ahead of us,” said Matteo. “I ask that you let my friend take a bit of the elixir from the well back to his teammate. You and I can have all the fights that you want.”

  In response, the newcomer began walking toward Matteo. Even though his hand was by his side, Matteo knew that the man was dangerous. He had seen the attacks. There was something vicious about the newcomer’s strikes.

  A rock whizzed past Matteo, heading straight for the newcomer’s face. The knife hand came up in a perfect deflect, and the newcomer did not even have to slow down his pace. “Please,” he said, “let us not stoop down to the level of animals. We are respectful warriors. Men of honor who respect the rules of engagement.”

  “The only rule I know is the rock in my hand rearranging your facial features,” said Kenji, but Matteo heard the hesitation behind the bravado in the boy’s voice.

  The newcomer stood a good six or seven feet from Matteo. He cocked his head to one side, as though examining a rare breed of animal. His eyes conveyed a frightening level of placidity. It looked like no horror could faze him.

  Matteo curled his fists. He tried to strain his ears to pick out sounds of footsteps or any other noise that would let him know that there was someone, or some group, out there in the forest. They might not be on his team, but perhaps their presence would tip the balance of luck in his favor, even if it was just a little.

  “I am your opponent,” said Matteo. “Let the kid go.”’

  The newcomer merely smiled. “He is going nowhere.”

  With that, the newcomer got down on one knee an
d bowed his head. “It is an honor, indeed, oh great Godlike.”

  Stunned silence. It seemed words refused to appear in Matteo’s mind. The reaction was so unexpected, it took him a few seconds to even acknowledge that it had occurred.

  “Wow,” said Kenji. “I mean, just wow, in the purest sense of what wow really means.”

  The newcomer remained bowing. “My name is Alonzo. Player name, Fermi. You might not have heard of me. But I have, as have many hundreds of thousands of players, heard of your name. I have long been seeking your audience, a chance to gaze upon the might of your presence.”

  Alonzo looked up and held out his hand, the blade glinting on his palm. He balanced the weapon expertly, as though he had been practicing using it for years. “Tell me, Great One. What is this weapon?”

  The man seemed earnest about the request. There seemed to be no deceit in his eyes. Yet Matteo knew that mere eye-reading would not help him to truly understand Alonzo’s personality. Instead, he looked at the weapon and information flooded his mind. He spoke aloud.

  “Brittlefang,” said Matteo. “A close range weapon preferred by those who seek to hunt from the shadows. Not powerful for players who prefer far-ranged attacks. However, quite deadly when in close-quarter combat. It has a limiter; each strike lessens its power until it reaches a really low attack power. The wielder has to avoid using the weapon for a while to recharge it.”

  Matteo looked at the unconscious body of Boss. No wonder he could take repeated hits to his face. The weapon’s power had reduced greatly after striking the other three members.

  “Brilliant,” said Alonzo, a smile illuminating his face. His expression seemed one of devotion, and it made Matteo feel suddenly self-conscious.

  “I don’t understand,” said Matteo. “You are not here to kill me?”

  Confusion spread across Alonzo’s face. “Kill you? Why ever would I do that, Great One?”

  “Okay. You need to stop calling me great one.”

  “How can I avoid calling you by your rightful name?”