Evolve

by Derek Belfield

  Instead of the explosion of blood and gore that Slate was expecting. Nothing happened-no agonized scream, no fountain of blood, no anything. Slate was looking into the flaming violet eyes of the sentry with a combination of confusion and disappointment when he was awkwardly clubbed in the head by an armored forearm. Instead of letting the blow solidly land, Slate dropped his weight while pulling on the helmet of his opponent. Instead of the full force cracking his skull, he only received a glancing blow.

  There was a creaking sound as Slate used his prodigious strength to attempt to remove the helmet. After some resistance, it came away with his hand, and he rolled back to avoid another series of one-handed strikes from the armored man. Instead of the face that Slate was expecting to find, there was a void suspiciously missing any kind of biological enemy. A semi-transparent apparition with burning purple flames for eyes took up the space.

  Slate immediately transmitted the information through the Scourgemind, and he saw her disengage from her opponent as well. They rapidly exchanged information between themselves in a series of memories, thoughts, and emotions. The Scourgemind allowed them to transmit and receive all of the knowledge they had gained in their respective fights in an instant and come up with a new plan. This was the real strength of the Scourgemind. As one, they began to concentrate the fire that resided within the pit of their stomach.

  Simultaneously, white fire spewed from their maws in the form of massive fireballs. Each fireball landed on their respective opponents and exploded with horrific force. The flash, blinded both of the predators, but they could hear the phantom-driven suits of armor crash into the stone wall behind them. As the initial burst faded away, they realized that they had blasted a hole in the entire wall, enlarging the original gate by several times. The system informed them of their victory moments later.

  Congratulations! You have banished 2 Soulbound Armor. You have earned 0 experience.

  As they watched the flames cling to the stone and burn brightly, they heard horns begin to sound the alarms. The walls were notably silent, but a substantial citadel in the center of the inner city made enough noise to wake the entire town. More sets of armor began to clunk from all over the inner city. It looked like an anthill had been kicked over as more began to swarm towards the entrance to the inner-city.

  Shit. Slate noted, and Shale silently agreed. The two began to launch exploding fireballs into the massing crowd until their mana conversion organs ran dry. At which point, they turned and fled from Soulbound Armor Guards. They escaped the city quickly and regrouped in the farms outside. Slate had a bad taste in his mouth. They had killed over fifty of the weird magical constructs and hadn't earned a single point of experience. Worse, there were no bodies for them to consume.

  Fuck this city. He complained.

  Shale just grinned at him before responding. You have to admit it was fun, she cajoled. He made a show of being annoyed before finally relenting and grinning look a schoolchild.

  Those fireballs are AWESOME, he exulted.

  Shale agreed and then continued. You know the guardians are going to be here around tomorrow night.

  Slate nodded. Yeah, I don't want them to face those things. It wasn't hard for us to dispatch them once we knew the trick, but they would rip apart the guardians. He replied.

  Good point, same time tomorrow night?

  Slate laughed. It's a date! He replied cheerfully.

  She looked over at him, confusion evident in her eyes. Why does the date matter?

  Chapter 18: Assess the Assault

  The two Scourge leaders spent much of the next day assessing their effect on the city and trying to get a feel for the culture and people within it. While the city went about its usual business, there was a heaviness in the air. No one seemed to be too willing to speak loudly. Shopkeepers weren't hawking their wares and spoke quietly to passerby. It was unusual behavior to observe. It felt like everyone in the population was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.

  Slate was especially interested in the variety of creatures within Bastion. While most of its denizens were human, there was an odd assortment of species that he could vaguely recognize from fantasy movies and television shows. He saw trolls, ogres, goblins, gremlins and a host of other races that he couldn't have named if he tried. This was his first look at the variety of sentients within Somnium, and he was suitably impressed. Slate found himself thinking of how Autumn would be excited to see the menagerie of creatures. He could imagine her wide blue eyes drinking in the passerby as she tried to restrain herself from asking too many questions. He smiled at the visualization. Shale, for her part, had never been outside of her forest home, so she had even less context than he did when trying to identify the various peoples.

  Slate resolved that once they had conquered Bastion, he would assign someone to catalog and as many creatures as he could get his hands on. His small faction was woefully unprepared for a war of any size. They had neither the intelligence or the strength to take on a serious foe. Just figuring out the occupants of Somnium would go a long way in increasing their survivability.

  Slate and Shale had positioned themselves on the roof of buildings in separate parts of the city. They occasionally moved to collect better information but Shale was mostly responsible for collecting data on the number and strength of the defenders while Slate got a better idea of the kind of people that they sought to defeat. Slate had figured that this would play to both of their strengths; so far, he was right.

  He watched a soulbound suit of armor make its way down the street. The crowd moved around it like a boulder in a stream, neither paying it much attention, but not getting in its way either. Slate could guess that they were used to seeing the guards walking around the city and grown comfortable with their presence.

  This was in direct contrast to the way that they acted when one of the Vallyr did the same thing. An invisible bubble of space would open up on all sides of them in the crowd. They came in different variations of armor and weapons, but they all shared the same features-pale white skin, dank greasy hair, four and eyes that didn't seem quite right. They were the kind of black orbs that looked through a person and planned how best to size their skin for a piece of furniture.

  Slate had rarely been introspective in his life, but he felt that these creatures outclassed him in terms of wickedness and cruelty. For him, emotions had a purpose. Anger and violence were tools to be used just as much as kindness and charity. All instruments were equally honorable in the pursuit of power and prestige. These creatures were needlessly cruel. They were like cats that killed because they were bored and not because they were hungry. Slate felt like he killed only when he was hungry-he just had an expansive appetite he told himself.

  Early in the morning, Slate had witnessed one of the Vallyr arrogantly bumping into a shopkeeper. Instead of apologizing and moving out of the way, the Vallyr whipped the man in the street until he died from the blood loss. Not a soul on the road moved to stop him. Conversely, they hurried on as if afraid to gain the man's attention too. If these were the people he had to convince to become Faithful, he felt like it wouldn't be such a hard sell.

  Strangely, there was a noticeable lack of homeless, disabled, or mentally ill citizens within the city. Everyone looked hale and energetic, which was a note of concern to Slate rather than a boon. From his time in politics, he could assess the health of the city by the number of its undesirables. Social policy and proper policing went a long way towards getting these people the help they needed. Although some cities were better than others, not a single one had a complete lack of dispossessed.

  Unfortunately, plenty of unsavory types would prey on these weaker members of society and Slate feared that this was the situation in Bastion. In a world of wonder and magic, Slate assumed that everyone would be generally better off than their Earthly counterparts. However, watching the number of soulbound suits of armor walking around, it was a safe bet that the souls of the unfortunate had been repurposed in s
ome way.

  After their path of destruction last night, Shale estimated that there were only close to two hundred of the magical constructs left. She hadn't seen any more thralls, and the number of Vallyr numbered in the dozens. While it had been reasonably easy for them to dispatch the soul-driven armor the previous night, Slate didn't like the chances his guardians would have against them. They didn't possess the type of offensive magic that the two Scourge leaders did. Their powers lent themselves to protection and peacekeeping.

  They would need to finish off the majority of them tonight. If they could kill some of the Vallyr as well, that would be even better. After a few more moments of consideration, Shale decided that it was time to rendezvous with the guardian army. It was approaching sunset, and they would be arriving soon. He reached out through Scourgemind to inform Shale, and he felt her assent. At this distance, they couldn't speak or share details, but their bond was strong enough that they were able to communicate certain impressions to each other. They had practiced, associating certain words with particular phrases, so that they could communicate over longer distances. If they separated too far, the Scourgemind would collapse completely.

  Slate quickly dropped to the ground and made his way out of the city as a camouflaged blur. He made sure to keep to the edges and the shadows to minimize the risk of him bumping into someone and being exposed. He was able to exit the city without drawing undue attention. There was a small child that pointed at him as he passed by, but his mother simply nodded and humored the girl's protests as she tried to drag her way. No one else noticed so Slate figured either the little girl was born with some sense that revealed him or it was sheer coincidence. In a world like Somnium, he couldn't tell which was more likely.

  He was able to meet Shale about a mile outside of Bastion. As per usual, she had arrived before him. While he was significantly faster and more agile than he was before, she had chosen the same mutations he had and outclassed him in speed. He consoled himself by telling himself that he had more raw power, but it felt a little bit like comparing two exotic sports cars and their top speeds. At some point, it felt a little pithy to argue over fractional differences between miles per hour. They hadn't had a situation yet where his raw power made a difference to the outcome of a fight.

  When he arrived, she bumped shoulders against his in greeting. How did it go? He asked as they casually made their way towards the meeting point.

  Good, she replied. Tonight will be stressful but manageable. I don't like the look of the Vallyr. Every time I look at them, I feel unclean.

  I know what you mean, he replied. They have the entire city within their thrall. Each one walks around the city like their own lord or lady. After watching them all day, I'm craving to feel their blood on my scales. S

  Shale nodded in agreement. Do you think we'll get the chance to kill some of them tonight? She asked.

  I don't know, he answered. It's likely, but our first goal is to get rid of the rest of the armored sentries. They'll chew through our guardians. Shale seemed to be thinking about it.

  You're probably right. They aren't trained for group fighting. Meanwhile, those possessed suits of armor seem absolutely mindless. They walk around in predictable and repetitive patterns.

  Slate stopped in his tracks. Do you think a single person is controlling them he asked?

  Shale stayed with him and considered the question. No. I think a fraction of them are controlled by each of the Vallyr. Slate let her continue. Groups of them seem linked together in various areas all around the city. From the way that they were moving, there can't be more than five to ten in each group.

  Slate started walking again, thinking about the ramifications of her observation. So do you think we should focus on attacking the armor or attacking the Vallyr? He asked her.

  I don't see why we can't do both, she said. One of us can attack a group of spirit armor to draw out a Vallyrian, and the other can ambush and kill them.

  That might work. He mused. He sent a side-eyed glance her way. Which one of us was supposed to be the bait?

  She laughed. We'll you're the largest one that can take the most damage.

  When did I become the tank!? He complained.

  What is a tank? She asked with confusion.

  Instead of trying to explain the basics of game mechanics—a subject that he was poorly informed on—he decided to change the subject. When are they supposed to get to the rendezvous point?

  She looked at him suspiciously, knowing that he was intentionally changing the subject, but not sure why it would have mattered. She waited for a long second to see if he would break, but when he didn't, she sighed and answered. We're supposed to meet them at the forest's edge by sunset tonight.

  Shale looked up at the sky to see the sun was almost behind the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold, orange, and pink. So soon, he mused. Do you know who's commanding them?

  Shale's tone sounded unsure in the Scourgemind. A Guard Lieutenant named Serena Winterborn. They crossed into the trees and found a comfortable place to wait.

  Why do you say it like that?

  Well, I don’t know her personally. Sumnu said she's a little odd, for a wood elf—and for a Guardian. However, Sumnu and I conducted tryouts for the leadership positions, and she won a top spot.

  Huh, Slate said non committedly. I didn't realize you guys had time to set up a rank structure?

  Shale shrugged her shoulders. It isn't really anything too formal. We have 235 total Guardians. One platoon consists of about 100 men and women. So we have two that are just referred to as the First and Second and the last thirty are reserved for the Royal Guard.

  Seeing that Slate was interested, she continued. We have two Guard Captains and three Guard Lieutenants. The Royal Guard is led by Guard Captain Stonebringer with Lieutenant Skyrock as his second. The regular Guardian Corps is led by Guard Captain Riverrun with Guard Lieutenants Winterborn and Burnheel leading the First and Second respectively.

  Slate was surprised and impressed that they were able to come up with a rank structure so similar to the one he was familiar with. He was growing increasingly fond of the team that had been created between Sumnu, Shale, and Merus. They were incredibly useful allies. They probably stumbled upon this solution after hours of trying to figure it out while he would have been standing on the shoulders of giants if he had to come up with the same system. What about the lower-level leadership at the squad level? He asked.

  We're not sure yet, she replied. Everyone else is generally around the same level of experience. We're hoping that some of the First will distinguish themselves in Bastion and we can promote them to Watch Sergeant and distribute them to squads of consisting of twenty-four men.

  You two did exceptionally well for the information you were presented. He complimented. I would like to make a suggestion, he continued. Please have one Watch Sergeant in every squad, and then I want one level of organization below that. Within that one squad, I want four Patrol Corporals in charge of three non-rankers each. We'll call that a team.

  Shale imagined the structure in her head. So, four teams to a squad and four squads to a platoon to make a total of a 101-guardian detachment? She asked.

  Perfect.

  Shale shrugged, knowing that this was more his and Sumnu's area of expertise than hers. We'll get it done as you suggest, Heritor.

  Slate abruptly struck her with his tail blade and a flash of sparks cascaded of her armored hide. Since when do you call me, Heritor. He asked in mock anger.

  Shale began to laugh. Ever since you got so high and mighty, over there issuing orders, like some kind of progenitor of an entire race. She winked at him, and Slate laughed. He was about to make a smartass reply when they both heard sounds of vegetation moving.

  In a fraction of a second, the two monsters leapt to their feet and took attack poses low to the ground, claws outstretched, tail whipping behind them violently, and small embers of white fire emitting from the sides of their maw like Fourth
of July sparklers. When they flipped their mana vision on, they sighed in relief and abruptly relaxed.

  A figure melted from the brush and smiled widely. "My Lord and Lady." A voice like smoked honey said breathlessly. "You surprised me. I didn't know you had turned yourselves into fire-breathing dragons." The owner of the voice was a buxom Guardian with ravishing features. Her large emerald green eyes fastened on Slate in particular.

  Shale growled low in her throat for a very different reason. Her natural instincts encouraged her to rip this rival's throat from her body. The emotion didn't make sense to her. The Guardian wasn't even equipped to be a true rival to the Consort. Just Slates flesh would cause any true coupling to be deadly to the wood elf. She narrowed her eyes at the woman anyway.