"Any last words?" said Kyle Elliott. Prince Kyle Elliott, now.
"Yes," rasped the man, whose name was James or Jay, or something. There were tears in his eyes. He said he'd been a firefighter before the Change. A firefighter in the Cult of Black Flame! Kyle should've known it was a bad fit from the getgo. "Please—tell my wife I—ahh!"
Kyle pulled back his foot and watched the man tumble off the bridge straight into the Gorge of Elemental Winds. He giggled. They never saw it coming. It was hilarious every time, too—oh man, the looks on their faces! He got the idea from the movie "300" with the Spartans. Sick movie. He wasn't sure how many times he'd done this, but it must've been getting close to 300. He sniggered. It never got old.
"Alright!" he shouted. "Next!"
His guards bowed their heads and went to grab the next prisoner in the chain.
He stood on the bridge connecting one massive courtyard to the next—bridging the two halves of the palace. They went right over the Gorge of Elemental Winds. Dad had been against putting the palace here, but Dad had always been a pussy. That was why he needed someone like Kyle, someone with freaking vision.
The prisoners were separated into two halves. One on the left side, with hundreds chained together, was the troublemakers. The people who tried to incite rebellion, or talk shit about him, that kind of thing. On the other side was his harem. Much smaller, two dozen or so of Portland's sexiest—he'd lined them all up and hand-picked them himself. It took a few hours, but he was very happy with the roster he ended up with. He got that idea from Star Wars. He even gave them costumes like Slave Leia's.
He sighed. This world really was just so much better than the old world. Here he could make all his fantasies come true. Whatever he wanted, he could go out and get! It was freaking awesome.
Before the Change, he'd just come back from a hunting trip in Africa—he and Dad shot a few rhinos, which was okay, but it had nothing on this. And in this new world, there were no dumbass Steve Irwin wannabes coming after him in the Insta comments either. They were all dead, probably. He giggled at the thought.
A guard hauled up the next prisoner, bound and gagged. The guard whispered the prisoner's offense in Kyle's ear.
Kyle's face twisted in anger.
Then they left him to decide the man's fate. It was a portly, unassuming-looking middle-aged man with a little gray mustache. He looked like a librarian or an accountant or something.
"Sam Tankersley, is it?" breathed Kyle. "My men say they caught you mouthing off about me! What was it? I was a 'petty tyrant,' was it? Hmm?"
He ripped the gag off the man's face. "Here. 'Cause I'm reasonable, I'll let you take back what you said. And maybe—just maybe, I'll spare you. If you seem sorry enough, that is."
Kyle wouldn't, of course. But it'd be funny to see the man try.
Annoyingly, though, Sam Tankersley wasn't even looking at him. He was looking at the chain of prisoners—at a girl who was next in line. "No matter what happens," he said, choking up, "I love you."
What the fuck?
The old fuck wasn't even paying attention to him! Who was that bitch anyway? They looked pretty similar… Wait, was that his daughter?
Kyle squinted at her, then smiled. He had a great idea. Then he checked her out and frowned again. She wasn't even pretty. Whatever.
"Didn't you hear what I said, you fat fuck?" he snapped. But the man just closed his eyes, shivering. He was stiff as a board.
Kyle thought about kicking him over now, but it wouldn't be as fun. It was so much more fun when they were scared of him.
"Look at me!" he shrieked. Sam Tankersley did nothing. "Look. At. Me!"
The man wouldn't do it. His eyes were squeezed shut.
"ARGH!!!"
Kyle just started kicking the shit out of him, kicking him 'till he was whimpering and bloodied, screaming, "LOOK! AT! ME!"
At some point, the man passed out, which only made Kyle madder. He kept kicking him. Weak little bitch.
He was still doing it when the guard burst into the courtyard doors, panting. "Master!" the man screamed.
"What?" snarled Kyle. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?!"
There was a massive crash in the distance—it sounded like a building toppling. Huh.
"The Wall, Master, it's fallen!" cried the man. "Someone's coming!"
"Who?"
"We don't know. We think—we think it could be the Savage Sage! He's broken the army—the Royal Guard's trying to hold him at the gates, but they're—"
Kyle perked up. "Wait. Did you just say Savage Sage?"
"Yes! Master, we've got to evacuate! I've sent men to call your father, but by the time he comes it could be too late—"
Kyle started smiling. "No freaking way! We're not running."
"What?!"
"You're telling me I have the chance to kill the Savage Sage? Me?"
His head was swimming. He could just imagine it—the awe on everyone's faces when they heard. He was relishing telling Dad 'I told you so.' He'd always thought Dad's biggest pussy move was putting up a wall between them and that Savage Sage. Kyle had offered time and time again to take a strike force and stomp him out. From what Kyle heard, the guy was just some mouth-breathing meathead. Easy pickings! But bitch-ass Dad never let him.
"Not until I fuse with the Greater Demon!" Dad had said. Little bitch.
"Master, you don't understand, he's breached the wall!"
"So?" scoffed Kyle. "I could do that too!"
"Master," the servant seemed on the verge of tears. "Master, please. You have to—"
"Abyssal Flame!" Kyle screeched. Then he threw a blast of Abyssal Flame at him, and the man screamed, ducking. It barely missed.
"You fucking imbecile," said Kyle. "Have I ever lost a fight?!"
Never—that was the answer. Every single battle Kyle had led in the Portland Civil War, he'd crushed.
"Master—please—that was against small Factions twenty Levels beneath you," said one of his bitch-ass advisors. He also looked nervous. "The Savage Sage could have ten, maybe twenty Levels on you! This—please, Master, we must retreat!"
"Ten? Twenty? Who cares?" Kyle rolled his eyes. "It's not the quantity, it's the quality. Dumbass."
For some reason, they all looked dazed. It was pissing him off.
"Am I your master, or not?!" he shouted.
They hung their heads. "... Yes."
"Then prepare for battle!" he roared.
***
Zane strode through the Crimson Steel doors. They opened into a vast foyer. The floor was polished black marble. Sleek black columns lined the hallways, arching into gothic high ceilings. The whole place was dimly lit—tiny flames encased in glass orbs hovered above, casting long dancing shadows down the corridors.
He strode through the palace, expecting resistance, and found nothing. There were a few white dots on the mini-map, but they turned out to be just servants cringing behind drapes or under tables, chains binding their feet and wrists.
It wasn't until he reached the other side and came out into the outer courtyard that he found what he was looking for.
A flat expanse of dirt. Some fifty-odd yards away, the Gorge of Elemental Winds loomed; he heard its ghostly howls. But there were people standing between here and there.
There were prisoners chained to either side, shivering. But it was the people in the middle who caught his eye.
There were ten or so cultists in slick black robes. A quick scan showed him all of them were in the Level 40s and 50s, and all of them had a Law called the Law of Fiery Rebirth—along with a certain skill.
ℝ𝕖𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕔]
𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕪𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤. ℝ𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥.
All of them were currently spamming that Skill—pouring streams of flickering red essence into the person standing before them. A chubby blonde man who stood there grinning.
𝕂𝕪𝕝𝕖 𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕥𝕥 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)
𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟝𝟟
ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝔸𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖
𝕃𝕒𝕨𝕤:
𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕀𝕟𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 (𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖)
𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 (𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖)
𝕂𝕖𝕪 𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤:
ℂ𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕀𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕠 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [ℝ𝕒𝕣𝕖]
𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕤 𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕖𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕤, 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖.
𝔸𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕝 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [ℝ𝕒𝕣𝕖]
ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝-𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕦𝕞𝕒. 𝕋𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝, 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖.
Zane blinked.
… What was this clown show?
"Savage Sage! We meet at last!" cried Kyle. He waved his staff about like a bad magician. "The name's Kyle Elliott. Remember it well! It'll be the last thing you ever hear!"
What?
"Come, and face your doom!" cackled Kyle.
Kyle raised his staff, catching the light of the sun, and it began to glow brighter and brighter. He seemed to be charging that 'Celestial Inferno' Skill of his. Zane was baffled. He wondered if he was being tricked.
The Skill seemed to be reaching its apex. A neat little ball of light had gathered at its tip. "En garde!" roared Kyle. "Hi-yaaaa! Celestial Inferno!"
He thrust out the staff.
But Zane thrust out his Axe first, which chopped off the arm, which chopped off the connection to the staff, which chopped off the essence flow.
The staff clattered unceremoniously to the ground. So did everything past the man's elbow.
Kyle seemed baffled as to why Zane hadn't been roasted to a crisp. Then he looked down at the ground—at his severed arm. It took a beat.
Then he shrieked, clutching at the stump, and dropped to his knees.
"Fuck!" he screamed.
"…" Zane was starting to think he wasn't being tricked.
The man was just a moron.
Zane advanced on him, then blinked—something curious was happening. A white fire was burning on the wound. The arm was regenerating in real-time. New flesh and bone burned into being. It was the work of that Rebirth in Flame skill—the work of those Mages hard at work in the background, buffing the man up.
That Law... Zane squinted at it. 'The Law of Fiery Rebirth'? He swore he'd seen this somewhere before… didn't that Molten Phoenix, back in Mount Saint Helens, have something similar? So curious. He drew closer, inspecting it.
Kyle, meanwhile, had scrambled back up. He cried out, "Time out! I quit!"
He shot Zane a scathing glare. "No fair. You didn't let me finish!"
Zane kept coming. Kyle frowned. "Didn't you hear me, you fucking moron? Are you deaf, or just as dumb as you look? I said time out! We're done. You can go back to whatever zoo you crawled out of—"
Zane slapped him so hard spittle, then blood, then bloody teeth went flying.
Kyle screamed, falling over. For a second he lay there stunned. Then he looked at Zane, eyes wide, trembling, and screeched, "You hit me!"
Interesting. The teeth were growing back in real-time, just like with the arm stump. A pale fire burned at the gums. Zane could see the Laws peeking out, little cracks. He needed to see more.
"How dare you—"
Zane slapped him again. Shrieking, the man went over. This time Zane hit him a little harder, just enough to break his nose. Sure enough the nose started burning, mending with flickering ghostly flames. Zane stared closely. Yes—this was the Law of Fiery Rebirth. It must've been there when the Molten Phoenix regenerated too. But back then he hadn't been well-versed enough in Fire to catch it live. So many of those Chambers of Insight were the same way. They had more secrets than he could pick up. But he could see it now intimately, now he paid close attention. Literally a touch away.
This was surprisingly helpful. So far, slapping the shit out of this brat was like his own personal Chamber of Insight. It was also a lot more amusing.
Kyle scrambled up to his feet, tears in his eyes. "That's it!" He sniveled. "Now you're in for it—Abyssal Fire!"
Zane ducked as black fire whistled past him. Why would you scream the name of the Skill you're using before you used it? Zane slapped the silly man again, and he went over reeling.
"You bitch! I'll kill you! I'll fucking—"
Slap.
"You little—"
Slap.
"I—"
Slap.
"Once Dad hears," slobbered Kyle. "You're fucked!"
Zane could feel himself getting close.
Slap. Slap. Just a few more and he'd get it—
"UNHAND HIM!"
Zane looked up.
There, on the distant horizon, was a dark cloud that blotted out half the horizon.
A man was flying toward them, a small sun boiling with black fire. So this must be Neal Elliott. That was quite a bit of aura. Zane was impressed. Whatever demon he'd summoned, he'd bonded pretty well with it. Could be an interesting fight.
"That's right," slurred Kyle. The man-child had gotten to his feet. He was grinning smugly now. "Oooh! You're fucked now, bitch!"
…Was he, though? Neal Elliott was speeding toward them, but he was still pretty far off. Something like twenty or thirty seconds away, probably. Zane did some back-of-the-napkin math. He figured it'd be enough.
He felt kind of bad about what he was about to do. Then he saw the prisoners chained to the walls. They were all staring at him slack-jawed, with a mixture of awe and hope...
He stopped feeling bad.
Zane slapped the man, and he went down squealing. But before he could fall, Zane back-handed up back upright. He socked him in the nose and broke it. He socked him in the ribs, broke those too. He kneed him in the gut, then ripped two hooks there, and was pretty sure he'd exploded every major organ. Kyle went over howling.
The Fire Mages had their work cut out for them. They healed furiously—and in came the Law of Fiery Rebirth, flooding Kyle's body. Zane inspected the man's caved-in torso, then his squished-up, crying face.
"I'm sorry!" sobbed Kyle. "I yield, I yield!"
There it was!
𝕃𝕒𝕨 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕙𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕!
𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕚𝕖𝕣𝕪 ℝ𝕖𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙
Neal wailed. He was getting pretty close—he'd crossed into the Safe Zone at the other side of the Gorge.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT, SAVAGE SAGE!" Neal screamed.