Javier scrambled up. His face was pretty badly broken. He was a lean man, quite angular, without a lot of fat in his cheeks. So you could see very clearly one side of his face was quite different from the other. A lot more droopy and bent.
He was pretty angry about it, too. Zane felt anger pouring off him like heat. Rogues like him were very fast, but their Vitality—usually not great. They weren't the strongest.
And Zane was one of the strongest people in the world. His fist, Javier's face—very bad combo.
Javier screamed. He lunged for Zane's throat in a rage, knives swinging.
Zane had loved watching those old martial arts movies with Bruce Lee and the like. They fought prettily, fluidly—almost like a dance. When Zane got into MMA, he found out that real life wasn't like that, sadly. Too messy. That kind of cool Kung Fu mostly worked if fights were choreographed.
For instance, if a guy was coming at you with a knife—a guy who was much faster than you, mind you—stopping it by trying to catch his hand at the wrist was probably a very bad idea.
But this fight was choreographed for Zane, pretty much. He knew how the other guy was going to move. So he just moved in sync.
Javier stared dumbly. He couldn't seem to understand the massive fist swallowing his wrist. Then it twisted and he cried out, dropping the knife. More bones crunched.
Zane felt two feelings in Javier's mind then—first utter bafflement. Then overwhelming pain. He screamed. Eyes brimming with tears, he leaped back, trying to put some space between them. And tripped.
Zane felt where he was going to go before he went there. So he just casually put a Chain in the way. And Javier fell backward, smashing into the ice.
"What?!" slobbered the hitman. He blinked down at the heavy black links wrapped around his ankle.
Shadows poured at his feet; he tried to walk out. Then stiffened.
Zane had shocked him. Hard enough his concentration broke.
The Skill vanished.
Javier tried again. And at the moment the shadow coalesced, right when his mind was most vulnerable, Zane shocked him again. And broke him.
"What is this devilry?!" He choked.
Zane calmly strode up to him and smiled. "I can feel you," he explained. Then, just to prove it—"You're confused. Now you're getting scared. You're starting to panic."
Zane scratched his head. "Oh. I wouldn't reach for that if I were—"
"DIE!" shrieked Javier. He lunged like only a desperate animal could, knives flailing, eyes bulging.
Going wild mostly worked because of the element of surprise. You shocked the opponent with sudden aggression. The problem? It was stupid. From a technical perspective, that was. Go all in on offense, and you leave yourself open to getting hit in the face.
Unfortunately for Javier, Zane was not at all surprised. In fact, his fist had been wound all the way back, waiting for just this moment.
He leaned to the side. Not too much, not too little, just enough—so close that the gleaming tips of those knives passed within an inch of his eyeballs.
At the same time, his fist began a long migration. First it was wound all the way back, almost touching the ground, and a flame lit up as though on an oil-soaked torch. Then it came up and over like a great wheel turning, making a bigger, brighter, hotter crescent that dwarfed the little thing Javier threw.
It came right over the top. The poor man didn't even see it coming until it was right on top of him. It dropped like a sledgehammer onto his ruined face and completed its great arc at last.
If you really wanted to hurt someone, you didn't end the punch at their face. Zane threw that like there was a brick wall a few feet behind Javier's head and then wanted his fist to break it. His hands were the size of Javier's face. His knuckles mapped a route from chin to brow, and every bone in between shattered. At once.
Then it just. Kept. Going.
Javier's body slammed over the surface of the icy lake, skidded 20 feet, and jolted to a halt. Since Zane's Chain was still latched around his ankle.
To Zane's surprise, the man was still alive.
He was so close to dead—his soul felt like a little candle's flicker in a harsh wind—Zane wasn't sure you could call him alive. But he was moving. His face… you definitely couldn't call that thing a face anymore. It was screaming something at him. But all the muscles there were so ruined all that came out was incoherent anguished babbling.
Kind of a pity. The man had been such a smooth talker. He'd mocked Zane so casually.
Javier crawled up to his arms, reached down to his bag of holding, fumbling for something. He was desperate to escape. He brought it out—a C-ranked escape portal.
He was just about to throw it when Zane yanked, and it fell out of his grip. His body came flying back…
Zane wound his fist back like he was pitching a baseball. And swung.
The speed of the ball that came off of Javier's shoulders would have made some MLB pitchers proud, he felt. It went pretty far too, almost to the island before it dissolved to white light and flowed back into him.
The body slumped to the ground. And dissolved to nothing.
𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕌𝕡!
𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟠𝟛 -> 𝟠𝟜
Zane stood there and sighed happily.
Nice.
The sun was starting to set. The sky was lit a vibrant orange, shading to gray as it met the horizon. It poured over the crater's edges, shading in the trees, giving the whole frozen lake a pretty new sparkling coat… under this light, the tunnels beneath the ice were even clearer. The murky shapes shifting there glowed the color of sunset.
This was nice. He let his heart keep running until it calmed down. He closed his eyes and let out another deep breath… He walked over and scooped up the escape portal. Could come in handy. Javier's Bag of Holding had little else. More suits, a few Vials of Essence, various hair gels… the man had packed for a brief trip.
Then he turned, and blinked.
Oh dear.
That girl was still there. He'd totally forgotten about her. She was face down in the snow in a pool of red.
… Had she been bleeding the whole time? She was making quite a mess.
He scratched his head. … He should probably…. Yeah…
He came up close and then gently flipped her over. Her dress was pretty shredded. Everything about her was pretty shredded. It was kind of surprising she was still breathing.
He knelt and pressed his hands to her belly. Through that touch, he channeled Fiery Renewal.
White flames poured into her. There was still so much dark essence lurking in her. The white burned it out. It started up all over her, cradling her in a gentle warm brace. Her muscles began to mend. Her skin slowly stitched up.
It was a lot harder to heal when it wasn't on himself, he found. A lot of essence was lost in the transfer. He wasn't a healer. He knew Reina, or someone specialized, could have done a much better job of it. But he tried his best.
And it turned out to be enough.
Within a quarter-hour, he was reasonably sure he had restored her. Where his hands touched, there used to be a mangled mess. Now there was a toned belly curving up to a full chest, rising and falling. Where there were cuts, they was now smooth skin. He inspected her face and saw a faint blush of health on her cheeks.
She was stunningly pretty, but in an objective way. The kind of pretty where even if she wasn't your type, you'd be forced to admit, yeah, she's absolutely gorgeous. If you showed her face to a hundred people, a lot of them, maybe most of them, would say she was prettier than Reina.
For Zane it was no contest. He far preferred Reina—which was a weird thing to think about right now, he knew. When he looked at Vanessa, he was just reminded of how much he missed being with Reina.
Something was up with him.
Her eyes snapped open. They were startlingly blue. For a moment their gazes met, then—
She cried out and thrust her hands right into Zane's chest. He felt a massive blast of cold essence, and he was sent flying, hacking out snow.
Then he blinked.
He found himself stuck to a tree. Rather—frozen to a tree. He couldn't seem to move. His whole body up to his neck was encased in thick ice.
Then something shone right in his face. The bright blue crystal at the tip of a staff. A staff wielded by one Vanessa Volkova, eyes narrowed at him.
"Pervert!" She snarled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you into a statue."
She spoke with a fancy British accent, which somehow took a little edge off the threat.
Zane wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "It's not what it looks like—"
"Then what were you doing?"
The crystal prodded him in the cheek, making him turn his face.
"You were blacked out," he said, a little miffed. "I helped you. I healed you—look at your wounds."
She did look down, checking her arms, her belly. When she looked back up, she was uncertain. "Well then. What happened to the Marquis? Don't lie. I'll know."
"I killed him."
"You? Killed a Marquis of the Tomb Kings?" She looked like she found the idea laughable. "And how'd you manage that, Magic Mike? By sitting on him?"
She had a very mean-girl smirk. But at least she wasn't outright hostile now.
"I did. Kill him, I mean. Not sit on him," said Zane helplessly.
"Right. And I'm the queen." She pursed her lips. "Hold on. I remember you. You were watching me earlier, weren't you?"
"I—"
"Who are you really? Did my mother send you?"
That crystal pressed into his face again, flaring bright.
"Please don't do that," sighed Zane. "And no. Why would I know your mother?"
She pressed it in harder. "I told you not to lie to me!"
Zane was done with this.
He flexed all his muscles at once. And all that ice shattered.
Vanessa had a moment to gasp. She threw out her staff, but he grabbed it and wrenched it out of her hand. Then he had her wrists pinned above her head against the tree. His body crushed close to hers so she couldn't try anything funny. They came face to face.
She was fairly tall for a woman, almost six feet. Zane was fairly tall for anyone, and he might as well have been two of her in width. He dwarfed her. He stared down at her straight in the eyes. And she could only stand there, stunned, helpless as he leaned over her. She was wide-eyed. Her mouth hung slightly open.
"Enough," he growled. "I don't care whether you believe me or not. You just woke up. You're confused. I can understand why you'd attack me. But do it again, and I won't be so gentle. Got it?"
She was flushed all of a sudden. He thought there might be a fight.
Then, to his surprise, the fight just… went out of her. She sagged. She nodded. "Okay," she said in a small, soft voice.
This time, before he released her, he reached out to her soul—just to make sure she wasn't going to attack him again.
He found she was shocked, partly. But most of her mind was swelling with… weird feelings.
… He did not need to know that.
But. Uh. He was pretty sure she was not going to attack him.
… They were oddly close, weren't they? And this position… he could kind of see why this would give off a weird impression. He let go of her and she just slid down the trunk, like she lost all muscle control in her legs. She sat there red-faced, looking dazed.
Disturbed, he started walking away.
Then, about thirty paces later—
"How—how dare you!"
Oh bother. He just kept walking.
He heard her running after him. "Wait!"
He didn't stop. Then a shadow flew overhead, and she dropped to a halt right in front of him. She wasn't dazed anymore—still red-faced, though. She looked equal parts angry and embarrassed.
"You were telling the truth."
"It doesn't matter," said Zane, exasperated. He tried stepping past her. She blocked him.
"It matters to me." She crossed her arms and sniffed. "I…apologize."
She still somehow managed to sound kind of pretentious.
"Sure."
He made to step around her again, and she got in his way again. "I said, wait!"
"What now?"
She thrust something at him. It looked like an egg sculpted of ice. A dense mist was trapped inside it.
𝔼𝕘𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕩 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤 (𝔹)
𝔸 𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤. 𝕀𝕗 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕘𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕨𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕩 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤. ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕒 𝕧𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕕.
"There," she said, still pink-faced. "Now we're even. I'm off to the Second Floor. Don't get in my way!"
Chin held high, she walked away.