Marcus used to love his throne room. It was grand and vast, and when you walked about, you could hear your footsteps echoing front to back. When he let out his booming laugh, the whole room shook with the sound of it.
Now he hated it. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the sounds from leaking in. The screams, the screeching of steel on steel—and worst of all, that growling, roaring, raging fire. Pouring up the great staircase, up to where he stood waiting. He was clad in his full dragon skill set, teeth clenched, greatsword thrust out before him like a rosary. Like he was praying.
Zane Walker was just a dog, he reminded himself, just a Mad Dog. Frothing and full of teeth, but Marcus would put him down.
…Somehow he couldn't quite make himself believe it. He kept thinking about the look in Zane's eyes as he rose from the dead. He kept breaking out in cold sweats. And Marcus was not an easily scared man—not by far. He'd been first through the breach of countless daunting Dungeons. He'd faced Monsters with ten Levels on him head-on!
And yet…
"Come on… come on…" Marcus ground out. He was sweating, trembling. His eyes trained squarely on the door. The burning drew closer, and closer still...
Then it all went quiet.
So that was the last of Marcus's men, then.
It was just him left. Trapped in this tower, alone. And it was coming for him.
The only sound was a single pair of footsteps climbing closer and closer. And Marcus could nearly hear the anger in them as they came.
"Come on!"
Motes of light gathered down Marcus' greatsword as Wrath of the Heavens began to charge. Light streamed in, picking up speed, until a thick vortex of it swarmed the metal, making it glow white-hot. The steel was suddenly bursting with the essence of the divine. It was blinding to look at.
Thud… thud… thud… The sounds of his heartbeats were mixing unpleasantly with the sounds of the footsteps.
Soon his single most powerful blow charged to its fullest. And he held it there, arms trembling trying to keep it straight. There was so much essence he could hardly control it, could hardly hold on. If it blew now, it might take off his upper body. Sweat poured down his face. He had to keep it steady, had to aim it just right!
He knew he had just one shot.
Luckily, it was a shot that had taken down C-rank Dungeon Bosses in just one blow. He hadn't met a single creature who could withstand it—much less block it. Even if Zane somehow survived this… he'd be done.
Marcus just had to land it.
Thud… thud… thud.
The sound stopped right outside his Great Hall.
A silence.
Then the doors were blasted open with a bang, and Zane Walker strode in.
And on his face was that exact same expression—the same one Marcus had seen in his dreams. Marcus nearly lost it then—nearly.
"DIE!" He shrieked. He slashed with everything he had, with animal desperation.
The strike was so bright it blinded even himself. A colossal force swept the Great Hall, a moving sea of essence, and he felt it crash—felt it strike.
He blinked. No… he couldn't believe it. He'd gotten it off!
"HAHA!" He laughed, exhilarated. "Fuck you, Zane Walker!"
Then he blinked away the light, blinked the spots out of his eyes—and choked.
A nearly red-black scar hung burning in the air, motionless.
And the man behind it was untouched. Not a scratch on him.
Marcus felt all his joy drain to the soles of his feet. "No," he whispered. "NO!"
They locked eyes, and Marcus flinched. Cold, dead eyes, like the eyes of a machine—yet his face was twisted in fury. Zane strode toward him, Axes swerving around, and Marcus nearly ran. But where to? There was no running from this. This man was Death.
Marcus shook his head. He was bigger, he was stronger, and he wore some of the finest armor anywhere on Earth. He should be the confident one!
Yet, when he looked in Zane's eyes… why did he feel so scared? Why did his knees start to tremble? Something in that man's face…
"Wait," he babbled, propping up his sword, holding it between them. Those ten feet of massive spirit weapon suddenly felt flimsy as a toy. "Wait, wait, wait!"
Then the Axes came for him, and he screamed.
He thrust his sword at one, barely deflected it. The force nearly ripped his weapon from his fingers.
The other Axe struck him clean.
A red streak ripped open the world. It sank deep into his armor—and it passed through, a hot knife through butter. The muscle, the bone, the tendons underneath, all reinforced by Minor Laws of Steel—it might as well be air.
Marcus couldn't even process it. He just stared at that red scar in shock—and his smoking stump of a leg. This was real C-grade armor. He'd tested it with his own blade—he'd slashed with all his might and he couldn't so much as dent it!
Then the pain struck, and he couldn't think anymore. A pain that lanced so intensely he choked out a sob.
When the next Axe came, he barely managed to throw up a parry. The Axe blasted it right out of his fingers and sliced off another leg.
Then he was on the ground, eyes streaming. The pain was so intense he couldn't put a thought together. Where was his blade? He had to get his blade—he couldn't go out like this! He was Marcus Blackwell! The Soldier of God! He had a miracle in him—he must! He saw his sword through a blur of tears. Its top half had been sliced clean off; it looked more like a butcher's knife now. He didn't understand. This was all some mad nightmare, it had to be.
He reached for it—and an Axe went right through the arm. And the last of his hope vanished.
He could only watch, bleary-eyed, as that Monster in human flesh stood above him, staring down at him. The Monster planted a foot on his chest, stared deep into his eyes, and Marcus saw it. Why he'd been so scared this whole time.
This was no man. You could see it in his eyes—it was a look more monstrous than he'd seen on any Monster. It made so much sense. Look deep in Zane Walker's eyes and you saw a ruthless machine, a machine running on pure hatred. Marcus was certain off it. This man had no soul.
"Monster!" Marcus shrieked. "MONST—"
Then he couldn't speak anymore. Zane fed him his Axe.
Zane did it slowly, bit by bit, and all the while he stared dead in Marcus's eyes. The last thing Marcus felt was pain beyond the world. The last thing he saw were those cold gray eyes.
***
Zane looked Marcus dead in the eyes. Zane wanted to see the exact moment the light went out of them.
And he did. Marcus' head lolled back; the pale blue eyes lost focus.
Then the Axe cut all the way through, and the head split in two. And that was that.
𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!
𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟞𝟡 -> 𝟟𝟘
That was easy. Far too easy. Most of the time, easy fights were not satisfying to him, but this…
This was a delicious exception.
Zane looked up, closed his eyes, and basked in the feeling. He wished he could bring the man back to life just to kill him again and again and again. What that man had done to Reina… he was still shaking with fury.
But it was ebbing. Slowly.
For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe again.
It was over.
He'd won.
***
After the Battle of the Beaches, the mood of the Luminous Faction was shocked joy—they hadn't really thought they could win against the legion. Then Reina and Zane showed them what was possible.
Now, the mood was just relief. They'd all seen this coming—as they took dungeon after dungeon, as they closed in on Seattle, they could all sense the end. And at last, they were here.
As Zane climbed down the last of the steps and stepped out into the open, all he saw on his soldiers' faces was relief. Their bodies, knotted with stress for days, weeks on end, could finally relax. They were so, so glad it was over.
To Zane's relief—and it was absurd to be relieved about this, but he was—no one seemed in any mood to throw up a parade, at least not yet. No more huge bashes. For now, they seemed content to bask in the victory.
As Zane walked out onto the streets, he saw the frightened citizens of Seattle coming out of the skyscrapers in clumps. They came in all sorts, young and old, some in families—by the looks on their faces, you'd think they hadn't seen daylight in weeks. They were whispering amongst each other, wide-eyed, and they cried out when they saw him walking.
"Is that madman dead?" croaked a disheveled woman.
He nodded. "Yes. You're safe now."
The relief on their faces was palpable. Some dropped to their knees, sobbing then and there. There must have been thousands poking their heads out of the buildings, looking over at him. Their faces lit up as they saw him. It was over for them too.
"Zane!" cried a voice. He turned—it was Reina, dashing toward him. She leaped at him and caught him in a deep hug, burying her face in his chest. "We've won!"
She stayed there for a long while. Chuckles and cheers went up from Faction members all around them.
Some were staring outright. To them, it must have been a rare show of emotion from her—and not just because they knew her as their type-A leader most of the time, all business. For a while, she'd been averse to showing her affection for him in public. She'd told him as much. She didn't want people to think she'd gotten where she was not because of her skills, but because they had some special relationship. And her worries were founded—before her victory on the beach, Zane had overheard a few Rangers speculating just what kinds of favors she did for him to get her position. It took some effort not to beat them down on the spot.
Right now, Reina was beyond caring. As she nuzzled her head in his chest, smiling softly, she seemed in bliss.
After a while, she stepped back and swallowed. She seemed to realize where she was—she got all flushed. "I… I should go tend to the cleanup." Then, like some last-ditch attempt to save her reputation—"…excellent work, soldier."
She strode off, face red, head held high. Avery came up soon after, blowing bubble-gum. Yet another thing Zane was sure the Beacon shop did not sell.
"Goddamn," said Avery, whistling. "She's so down bad she's almost underground. Anyway. Nice job!" She threw him a thumbs-up and a crooked grin. "Fuck that guy. Good riddance. Oooh—have you claimed that Beacon of his? The C-ranked shop has sushi! It's been ages since I had sushi."
***
It turned out the Beacon was right next to the Space Needle. It was in the same courtyard. A fat golden pillar stood twenty or thirty feet tall, inscribed with glowing white runes.
𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞 𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℤ𝕠𝕟𝕖: 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝔹𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 (ℂ)?
Zane accepted.
When he interfaced with it again, it felt like upgrading from a laptop from the 90's to something modern—there were so many new features it was hard to count. Avery got her sushi first, but there were a breadth of other treasures, up until C-grade. There were higher leveled training arenas. There were made-to-build buildings you could customize and buy and plop down, like a Sims game. There were options to rehabilitate certain areas of the Safe Zone—if he upgraded the Luminous Faction's beacon to C-rank, he could revitalize the dead forest with one payment.
But that was just the start. Right next to it was a new section—World Ranking. He clicked on it, and found he was number 48. It seemed ranked by Level.
The Top 10 appeared before him:
Irina Volkova (S)
D'Angelo Hall (S)
Emeka Eze (S)
Jian Shi Ming (S)
Jago Land (S)
Yui Urabe (S)
Cristina Dos Santos (S)
Cain Hastings (S)
Dulce Ramos (S)
But number ten was what caught Zane's attention.
Jason Walker (S)