Cities in Chains

by Tao Wong

No mention of us yet. I’m not sure if that’s confidence that we’ll do the right thing at the right time or he’s forgotten that we’re out here.

  Clusters of blue appear around the walls again and on the buildings that lead into the city. I realize after a moment what those dots are—non-combatant reserves coming to pitch in. A flicker as a pair of dots disappears. A simple straight line that we could draw, if we wanted to. A signal.

  “I have him.” Sam’s voice is cold.

  A new dot nearly a kilometer away. I know that place, know there’s a building there, though I’ve never been to it.

  “I can’t drop us off right there,” I say, already reaching out with my Skill. I can only create Portals where I’ve been, or within a few tens of meters of where I’ve been. That location is too far. “Mikito, Lana, hit them from behind. The Sect Enforcer is mine.”

  Acknowledgements come even as the Portal opens. The other side of the Portal exits behind the Sect’s lines, between the Sect Enforcer and our attackers. A chance for us to split their forces, make use of our ability to move around the battlefield. Of course, the spell itself drained nearly a quarter of my Mana and I still need to finish this fight.

  I don’t look behind me as I run toward the Sect Enforcer’s location, trusting my friends to hit them as hard as they can. I’d considered dropping us off closer to the fight, allowing the girls to hit them faster, but that Sect Enforcer is a greater danger. It’s not even the sudden death that he can drop on others—it’s the fear that he engenders. And it’s no surprise people are afraid. Even with my shields up, I can’t take more than a single shot from him.

  A glint, a flash of light as the Enforcer shifts his gun. A moment, and then I’m gone, Blink Stepping to beneath the grey office building he lies on. Too far by just a bit, but the flash of light across my peripheral vision tells me that delaying would have been disastrous. I launch myself through the air at the edge of the building. A moment later, concrete shatters around me as my body hurtles through the flimsy building.

  A hand on the building edge, I pull and twist, flipping up even as I ready a Blade Strike. The Enforcer is gone though, having left his sniper rifle alone. I stare down the extra-large, tri-barrelled sniper rifle, my fingers tapping it gently to sweep it into my Altered Space. Too long. I spent too long, and I pay for it. My world becomes fire as the silver-clad, six-limbed creature drops its reflective invisibility cloak and opens fire with a large, shoulder-mounted weapon.

  The explosion throws me backward, Sabre’s shield failing first and my Soul Shield nearly half gone. I can do nothing to stop my body from being blasted off the building, the explosion throwing me straight into the air. Still, I trigger the mini-missiles, each tiny warhead roaring through the sky to impact around and on the Enforcer. Even as I fall, the roof collapses, dropping the Enforcer into the building as it crumbles beneath our onslaught.

  Recovering from the fall, I stare at the building, rotating through the various vision options available through my helmet. Strangely enough, I see nothing but the shadows of the collapsing building. Nothing until a gleaming spear flies through the air, forcing me to jerk aside in a hasty dodge.

  “The Enforcer’s shielded by his—its? hir’s?—armor. I’ll do my best to boost your Greater Detection abilities to outline hir,” Ali says.

  A flicker of surprise and curiosity, but I don’t have time to deal with weird alien gender issues and English language limitations.

  My sonic pulser opens up in a wave of sound that sets my teeth on edge and disrupts the Enforcer’s equilibrium. Not much, just a second before hir’s helmet shuts down the majority of the noise, but long enough for Ali to tag hir. After that, I let loose a blast from the Inlin, unloading everything in another round of explosions and kinetic death. A small, portable shield flares to life around the Enforcer, deflecting explosives that shatter even more of the building. It groans as supports buckle, dust kicking up everywhere, obstructing my vision even further.

  He’s good. Hir’s good. Very good. Even between the shots, hir’s moving, grenades fired from another weapon exploding around me. The next few moments are a running, jumping, shooting, and dodging series of attacks, each of us trying to land a hit. All the while, I attempt to close on hir and the Enforcer attempts to keep the range and evade.

  Now.

  At the thought, I Blink Step to where I expect hir to be, spinning to cut with my sword and meeting nothing but air. An explosive roars, hitting not me but the air around me as insta-concrete spreads, covering my shield in goop. I shove against the ground, attempting to break free, but it doesn’t help. The gears in Sabre strain, as do my muscles, all of it futilely.

  “Move, boy-o. He’s dropping mines all around you!” Ali snaps.

  Crouching as much as I can, I shove with both feet. The insta-concrete holds for a microsecond longer, then shatters. Not a second too soon, as the mines explode, throwing me farther into the air. The remnants of concrete and my shield explode at the same time, destroyed as I spin through the air.

  “Son of a bitch,” I snarl even as a laser beam cuts into my body.

  I twist in space as the beam tracks my movement, melting armor. A Blade Strike tears apart the smoke and dust, clearing my vision as the attack shatters the remote-controlled laser rifle.

  “Behind you!” Ali says, sending me an image of the Sect Member setting up a shot with another single-barreled rifle. My Spirit can see him, and that’s all I need.

  I’m a second too late, the shot ripping into my back and through my chest, tearing off a third of my hit points before I Blink Step away. Fingers already leaving the trigger, the Sect Enforcer is rolling and moving aside, but hir’s too late for once. A Thousand Blades Blade Strike sends numerous waves of blue and red force through the area beneath me even as I land. Caught in the projected energy strike, the Enforcer can only block and absorb, pink blood flying from injured limbs.

  On the ground, too close for hir to run away, we clash. A pair of short swords are in hir’s top hands, one glowing with a sickly green light, the other shimmering at its edge—a clear indicator of a monofilament weapon. Well, as close to monofilament as you can get. A weird glowing stick and a small oval shield are in hir’s bottom hands.

  The Enforcer is good. Fast and smart, discarding weapons that get entangled or damaged, switching to new attacks at the drop of a hat. A taser, a whiplike baton that wraps around my sword, a blade that explodes, all of it comes into play as it uses Instantaneous Inventory as I do my soulblade. Too bad for hir, I cheat too. The Freezing Blade I hit hir with initially slows the Enforcer down a bit, and the other strikes I keep piling up slows hir further. Any time hir tries to take my sword from me, I dismiss it and call it back.

  The Enforcer's good, but Mikito and Roxley are better. And I’ve trained with them long enough that my edge in Skill and speed shows up. As Mikito has pointed out, Skills are nice, but skill is just as important. That, and a willingness to die.

  A thrust with the monofilament blade targeted at my heart. Hir’s over-extended, expecting me to fall back and away. Instead, I twist just enough to ensure I’m not speared directly by it, but I refuse to miss the chance hir’s given me.

  I cut sideways, using the momentum of my dodge to disembowel the Enforcer. First the left hand, tearing apart and shattering the shield and destroying the last of its armored suit. Then my right hand, holding a second blade, follows close enough that there’s nowhere to dodge. After that, I take its top arms and head in short order, pinkish blood flowing down around me.

  Cradling my side, I realize that Sabre’s wrecked. I pull back it into my Altered Space, discarding what little protection the mecha can provide for now as I force myself to breathe and inject myself with a healing potion. After that, I layer my Healing spells and turn toward where the main fight is happening. Gods, I hope they’re winning.

  A plane lies shattered and smoking to the right of me. Tracking a second airborne attacker, the beam weapons of the city swivel, fi
ring again and again. I wonder how I missed the plane exploding, but dismiss it for the moment as I run toward the fight. Scooting around above are Sam’s drones, each with weapons that he controls to snipe at fighters below. Few people care to attack those drones, most too busy with other, larger problems.

  Near the plane, the Bone Warrior swings its fist, only to be met with bone-shaking force by Capstan’s axe. Bone is shattered all across the Warrior’s body, showing the yellow flesh beneath as Capstan pushes his attack. Both fighters began with huge amounts of health and defense, but only Capstan has a dedicated high-Level healer, and the difference is telling.

  In the center, where the fighting is fiercest, the Sect’s forces are split between guarding forward and dealing with Lana and Mikito and the pets behind. The puppies lunge and bite, tearing into Sect members as Roland pounces and ends anyone who threaten Lana. Anna’s flames keep control of their side of the battlefield, blinding and injuring waves of reinforcements. Fighting by herself, Mikito weaves between a pair of Blood Warrior clones while dealing damaging blows to both and any Sect member unlucky enough to close in on her. She’s a blurred ghost, moving so fast that none can keep up.

  In front of Lana and Mikito lie the bulk of our forces. In Amelia’s case, literally. Over her body, another woman crouches, glowing white light coming from her hands held above the fallen Guardian. A glowing bubble explodes from Mike, shimmering forward for a second before collapsing down a bit and repeating, even as the Regional Guardian beats aside a Sect member with his trusty baton. I can see him struggling forward, attempting to near the Psychic who just stands there, staring at Mike.

  “Psychic attacks aren’t really visible,” Ali says, as if I needed an explanation.

  Even as Ali speaks, the Psychic flinches as lights spark on a shield around him. Mel bounces off the shield, still firing at the Psychic as other Sect members target him. Fighters on both sides clash, spells exploding in a riot of colors, smoke, and dust twisting in a cyclone of superheated air above the battlefield. A moving ice elemental smacks around a pair of hunters, half-engulfing them, while a musician strums an electric guitar whose music forms famous figures in front of him, literally assaulting his attackers with the power of song.

  On my left, Vir stands over the smoking remnants of a twelve-foot-tall metallic creature that bleeds and smokes. Blood drips down Vir’s hand, miraculously not staining his clothing, as he surveys the surroundings before dashing into the middle of the fight. Among the torn remnants of our sentinels, a giant crocodile-like creature swarms forward to intercept Vir.

  All of that and more flashes across my vision as I run, mind weighing and balancing where my help will make the most difference. But whatever I do, the answer seems to be quite clear. We’re winning.

  Chapter 20

  My sprint allows me, roaring, to slam into a Blood Clone. Closer, I can see the differences, the sheer red visage that looks up at me in surprise before it splatters into a waterfall of blood. Mikito uses the distraction to spear her Clone as well and split it apart.

  “Punch through the center,” I snap at Mikito. “I’ll get the Psychic.”

  “At last,” a voice comes, reverberating through my mind the same way it feels when I speak with Ali. Except this voice feels like a thousand nails going down a chalkboard.

  “Oh shit. Boy-o…”

  Ali never completes his sentence. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to. The information pops up above the Psychic’s head as I stare at him.

  Patrag Yn Drnak (Master Psychic Level 1)

  HP: 570/570

  MP: 1483/2120

  Conditions: Mana Enhanced, Psychic Storm, Telekinetic Shield

  One second we’re winning. The next, a psychic bomb goes off in all our minds. It’s not super-damaging, at least not to me—the Erethran Honor Guard training helps to allay half of the attack. But it’s powerful and distracting enough that all our people are thrown for a loop. And in a battle of life and death, a single second’s distraction is enough.

  A missed dodge. A misfired Skill. A moment of distraction, multiplied dozens of times across the battlefield, is enough to turn the tide of battle. Capstan is slammed in the chest, his body flopping through the air as the Bone Warrior rushes Nelia. Vir’s Skill misfires, his attack failing to form, allowing the crocodile creature to rush him. Roland snarls, missing a Sect member that slips past him to stab Lana in the stomach.

  “I must thank you for your attack. If you hadn’t taken action, I could never have convinced the Elders to allow me to sacrifice more Serfs,” the Psychic says directly into my mind. His voice is taunting, glee-filled. Seeing I’m still on my feet, he turns to face me directly.

  Forward. I rush forward, Soul Shield back in place. The area around him is packed too tight for me to Blink Step over. At least not on the ground. A second to look, then I reach out for my Skill to Step into the sky.

  Too late. A spike of psychic force slams into my mind, shocking me still. I can’t move, forced to freeze in place as an Assassin appears at my side to slam a spear of force into my shield.

  A moment, then a naginata strikes, tearing into the hamstring of the Assassin. The Sect member falls even as I stagger forward, bulling aside another attacker with my momentum. My Soul Shield has barely a third left. An explosive projectile hits the shield, the explosion spreading around me to collapse another attacker’s shield and giving me a momentary gap to move through. Before I can move though, another psychic spike slams into my brain. This one brings pain rather than paralysis.

  “This isn’t something I can help with,” Ali says as I fall to my knees, an outstretched hand all that stops me from falling on my face.

  Liquid warmth drips down my nose, the salty taste of iron on my lips. My free hand rises, Lightning Strike on my lips, when another attack erupts. This time, the pain is so bad, it feels as though I’m crying, warm tears running from my eyes as my brain feels as though it’s being pulled apart. The pain is so great, I can’t even scream.

  “I’m impressed. You still live. I wonder what kind of resistances you have to survive this long?” the psychic sends, taunting me. “Oh wait, your friends seem to be doing well. One moment…”

  Pain again as the psychic bomb goes off. Instead of a spike, it’s a wave that ripples through my mind and jars the cells of my body, making me stagger. While not as powerful as the individual attack, it still hurts.

  “That Guardian of yours is very annoying. One moment, I need to kill him.”

  “Noooo…” I stagger upward to look around me.

  Chaos reigns, our people forced back after their brief resurgence. Amelia is still down, Mel and the healer flanking her prone body. Mike’s bubble is a quarter of the size now, only a small portion of our people covered by it. Those who are protected look steadier, their hit points significantly better. As I step forward, my brain too fried to call forth a Skill, I see the Psychic raising his hand toward Mike.

  I can deal with pain. Pain’s a companion, a friend. It’s an artifact of the mind, a brake to stop you from hurting yourself. It’s powerful and strong, but in the end, it’s illusory. Don’t believe me? Then tell me what the hell heartbreak is.

  Pain is a mirage, as is anger. A simple thing then. Open up the floodgates and allow that churning sea of rage to push back the pain.

  “Ali. FRENZY,” I roar, warning him and my friends.

  Then I snap, triggering the Skill. If the Psychic wants to shut down my brain, then I’ll help him. The Psychic’s eyes narrow at my scream. Long hair flows behind him as he flicks his hand, the next Skill effect targeting me instead of Mike.

  The psychic spike drills into me, but the pain is secondary. Remote. It means nothing to me, not anymore. Just a number in my display, a little blood on my lips. Swords in hand, I dash forward, cutting and stabbing. A remote part of me note that all my people are pulling back, clearing the way and getting far away from me.

  My Soul Shield fails around this time, another blow crushing my outer pro
tection. Not good enough, not by far, as I grab my attacker by the neck. Small neck, smaller torso, a simple squeeze chokes my attacker to death while I acquire a new, fleshy shield.

  Another spike of pain, this one carrying a hint of fear. Fear he should, as my eyes glow with undiminished rage as I near the Psychic. Sect members throw themselves at me, trying to slow me down. Some are intercepted by our hunters while the Sect pours on attacks.

  I run forward, the Sect member’s body held before me, twitching as each attack pours into his body and tears apart skin and exposes bone. Cruel. Unworthy. I don’t care, not right now. A Lightning Strike forms around my other fist, channeled to the point of my sword. I raise it, releasing the spell to wreak carnage across the muddy, bloody field. Sect members scream as the spell dances, draining my Mana and their lives.

  A growing headache as Mana disappears, but it matters not. What matters is that I’m near the Psychic, the long-haired punk scrambling back as he attempts to put some space between us. Too slow, too slow by far. Lightning dances against the edges of his shield, stopped from crossing over even as bolts of elemental fury split away to strike others. His face tightens and the Psychic makes a shoving motion. I skid backward, an invisible force pushing me away.

  Twisting at my hips, I throw the smoking corpse at the shield and watch it bounce off, leaving a streak of green blood across the invisible barrier. Three steps carry me closer to strike the shield directly, the glowing arc of my sword crashing against the invisible bubble. The Psychic steps backward, the shield slowly retracting with each blow. A hand comes up, swiping at blood that flows from his nose.

  “You Soonak Worm!” he snarls at me, anger lacing his words.

  A spike of pain at his words. I don’t care. My focus is on attacking, again and again, smashing my sword into the shield. Occasionally I feel the impact of another attack, another strike that digs into my legs, my chest, my arm. But it’s secondary, utterly secondary to the importance of ending this, of ensuring that the Psychic hurts no one else. My arm feels heavy, the ground slick with muddy blood. Bloody mud?