The Wastelander

by Tipsy Wanderer

  Cloudhawk noticed something quite interesting. Even the savage and terrifyingly strong maneaters shuffled backwards as this mysterious man walked past them, voluntarily clearing the way. It was as if they were afraid of getting in his way.

  These giant creatures had long ago lost virtually all of their reason and intellect. Despite that, they could still tell the strong from the weak and recognize a worthy, powerful leader. Above all else, they knew exactly what sort of price they would pay if they tried to rebel against their leader.

  Their minds had already been imprinted with memories of what punishments awaited rebels… and the imprinting had been done in the simplest, most direct and brutal way possible. It was why they almost instinctively shied away from the man!

  The battle was at an impasse, as though everything were mired in a quagmire. Things were incredibly tense and everyone was on tenterhooks. The outpost warriors were very careful to not even breathe too loudly, for fear that the slightest stimulus would disrupt this fragile, delicate balance.

  The cloaked figure slowly advanced towards the front, step by step. As he did, Cloudhawk stared unblinkingly at him, trying to figure out what made him so different. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, Cloudhawk was still unable to discern any of those strange ripples emanating from the man. It wasn’t him!

  This army of sweepers was outfitted with metal armor, heavy machinery, machetes, war-axes, bows, firearms, and even vehicles. They were literally armed to the teeth. There was no way an army like this could have just suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Why was it that no one has heard of such an organization in the past?

  The two captains of the elite outpost guards were all extremely puzzled. Why hadn’t the sweepers pressed the attack after breaching the outer perimeter? They were just standing there, giving the beleaguered defenders time to catch their breaths. Why did they do this? Did they feel overwhelmingly confident in their superiority? Were they waiting for something? Or were they worried about something?

  The bows were all nocked. The guns were all loaded. It didn’t matter what the sweepers were planning; the outpost warriors had once more reformed a strong defensive perimeter. However, they all knew that the outpost held no advantages at all in this battle. If they truly did begin to fight, the majority of the humans would be wiped out at the very least, even if they won. In the worst-case scenario, the entire outpost would be baptized in blood!

  Morale was so heavy that everyone found it hard to even breathe. As for the cloaked, statue-like figure, he moved slightly, raising his head and revealing the paper-white face beneath the hood. His skin looked as lifeless as an alabaster statue’s, but his eyes were as black as the endless depths of the night. When he “blinked”, his eyelids didn’t actually move; rather, some sort of dark-red nictitating membrane rapidly closed over his eyeballs. It was extremely bizarre to behold.

  The mysterious man extended his hand and pointed at the outpost. “This outpost belongs to us now.” His words were very calm and casual, as though he had come to a fairly simple decision. It was like he was proclaiming that he was going to eat a piece of bread or perhaps pluck a flower from the roadside. His voice was shrill and dark, carrying a strange, mutated, sinister cadence.

  The outpost defenders all had rather ugly looks on their faces when they heard his proclamation. The mysterious man continued: “Surrender!”

  A strange look appeared on Cloudhawk’s face as well. Weren’t sweepers supposed to be nothing more than thuggish butchers who swept across the wastelands like locusts? Why did this sweeper desire possession of this outpost? It was too weird!

  But of course, there was no way anyone would accede to this request. Those enormous maneaters were able to eat an entire human being with each meal. They wouldn’t even spare the bones. Not even the greatest of fools would volunteer to become food for sweepers!

  Faced with this obvious provocation, a skinny youth rose to his feet and stepped forward. It was the second captain of the elite squad, the man known as Wulf. His eyes spat fire as he said, “You want it? Come and take it, if you have any balls!” The other outpost guards supported him with a chorus of jeers and curses.

  They weren’t actually angered by the fellow’s arrogant demeanor. Rather, this response was the only method they had to bolster the cratering morale of their fellow warriors.

  “Then I guess there’s nothing else for it.” The cloaked figure gently raised his hand, his every movement seeming extremely casual. It was like he was waving and saying good morning to a neighbor… but before making the final decision, he swept a glance at the surrounding area, almost as if waiting for something.

  The mysterious man scanned the area and hesitated for a few seconds as though waiting for something to show itself. A look of disappointment flickered through his eyes and his voice echoed clearly in the ears of every man present like ice, filled with the cold promise of death. “Fine then. We’ll just wipe you all out!”

  Such a casual statement. Such a direct statement. It didn’t even sound like he viewed this as a particularly onerous task; he said these words as though he were telling someone to drink a cup of water. It was a simple order, but one which was completely uncontestable. Perhaps to this mysterious sweeper, these outpost warriors were nothing more than bugs he could crush with a wave of his hand!

  “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” The sweepers had been waiting impatiently for just this command!

  The ten-plus maneaters began to advance at a jog, while the hundred-plus thugs immediately followed right behind them. The crude, ugly, yet extremely thick armor they wore emitted clanking, grating sounds. They were like one of those ancient, rusting trains from the Ancient Times. With each step they took, they caused the ground in front of them to tremble. They were both tenacious and strong, and any men who stood in front of them were destined to be smashed to bits of blood and gore.

  The warriors of Blackflag Outpost were both shocked and horrified. The battle had started, just like that? They thought the face-off would have lasted a bit longer, giving them enough time to replenish their arrows and ammunition. Who would’ve thought that the damnable sweeper battalion would launch an immediate attack without even brooking the slightest delay?

  Grizzly roared loudly, “Archers and gunners, fire!” The warriors of the outpost began to fire their guns and shoot with their bows, but their formation was so chaotic that there was no way for them to concentrate their firepower.

  The ten-plus enormous maneaters lifted their arms, using their bracers to protect their eyes. The thick steel cuirasses covering their body were more than enough to protect their vitals, making it impossible for these ordinary arrows and bullets to cause any lethal wounds.

  “Careful! They are coming!”

  The enormous freaks barreled straight into the defenders with absolutely astonishing momentum. Each of the maneaters wielded enormous war hammers that weighed several hundred kilograms, and whirled them with such ease it was as though they were playing with wooden sticks. They raised those ponderous war hammers up high before sending them smashing down towards the humans with enough power to pulverize a herd of bulls.

  CRUNCH! Two men were struck head-on and their bodies disintegrated as if made out of glass, spraying blood and gore everywhere!

  When a few of the strikes missed and slammed into the ground, they seemed to cause the earth itself to quaver. Some of the more distant men felt their legs wobble along with the earth, while entire groups of nearby defenders were actually knocked to the ground by the overwhelmingly powerful shockwaves generated by the strikes. The still-standing outpost warriors tried to stab the maneaters with their spears, but even when they were able to strike through the chinks in the armor, they were unable to pierce through that tough maneater skin.

  With every swipe of a maneater war hammer, multiple humans were blasted off into the distance like tennis balls. One, two, three, four… the enormous monstrosities continued their berserk advance, their thick steel armor rendering them impe
rvious to almost all attacks. Their whirling war hammers smashed every single human they came in contact with into a pile of pulped meat.

  Accompanying every single massive maneater was an entire group of axe-wielding thugs, who ringed the maneater with a wall of iron shields. Although these thugs didn’t have the astonishing size and power of the maneaters, they were still some of the most elite warriors the sweepers had to offer. All of them were nearly two meters tall and were twice as muscular as ordinary humans. With their left hands, they held iron shields that seemed capable of stopping any attacks and with their right hands, they wielded war-axes that chopped through human bodies like vegetables.

  Behind the thugs were the groups of bow and gun-wielding moderately mutated sweepers. These mutants didn’t have the close combat power of the first two groups, but they were much more intelligent and so were responsible for using firearms to kill from a distance as well as screening their allies. They were responsible for killing particularly dangerous targets with their firearms.

  Sweeper bows were custom-designed and specially made. Every single shot packed enormous amounts of power and were terrifyingly accurate. They were able to completely pierce through a man’s skull, virtually guaranteeing that almost no one hit by them would survive.

  As for the lizard riders, bikers, and other riders, they wielded sickles and other long weapons and were responsible for keeping the flanks secure.

  This formation was extremely powerful and extremely well-organized. A sweeper battalion like this was unquestionably powerful and guaranteed overwhelming dominance over almost any opponent. These outpost warriors stood no chance at all!

  The outpost warriors let out screams as they died and these screams intermingled with the sounds of their bones being shattered and their bodies being crushed, as well as with the twanging of bowstrings and the cracks of firearms. These sounds all mixed together, combining to form a strange, horrifying melody that none of the people present would ever be able to forget. They formed a sea of terror that drowned the hearts of even the stoutest warriors, causing their courage to crumble and disappear.

  By now, Cloudhawk had seen death and misery up close on many occasions. He could tell that the difference in power between the two sides was simply enormous; even if all of the outpost warriors fought to the bitter end, it still wouldn’t be enough. For them, resistance was completely futile and meaningless.

  The sweepers continued to attack without mercy, crushing all hope and bringing despair in their wake. These two forces were on completely different levels of skill and power, and this battle was ten times more calamitous than the previous one against the beast wave!

  As for the mysterious, cloaked man, he just watched silently as the slaughter proceeded in front of him. It was like he was watching a piece of performance art after a fine meal and didn’t seem inclined to take part in the battle at all.

  Cloudhawk had the strange feeling that this fellow was more dangerous than ten maneaters combined. Even experts like Mad Dog and Slyfox were far from being a match for someone like him. The only reason this mysterious man wasn’t taking part in the battle was simply because there was no need.

  How was this battle going to end? What should Blackflag Outpost’s response be? Cloudhawk didn’t know the answers to these questions, but he was once more reminded that this was the sad lot of the weak. Faced with this nightmare, there wasn’t a single thing he could do.

  24 Entering the Fray

  Charge! Smash! Charge again! Smash again!

  The maneaters swept their giant war hammers through the ranks of the defenders, causing absolute carnage. Each swing launched a wave of blood and gore, sending unrecognizably mangled bits of bone and flesh across the battlefield.

  The sweeper thugs held their iron shields high, maintaining that steel shield wall as their great war-axes hacked down one warrior after another like scythes through wheat. As for the sweeper cavalry on both sides, they moved to circle behind the outpost defenders and attack from the two wings, pressuring them on their flanks. The sweeper archers and gunners shot continuous, long-distance volleys to maintain control over the battlefield.

  The number of sweepers was fairly low, but they were completely crushing the outpost warriors on the battlefield. Compared to these powerful mutants, the human guards had no advantages at all in this fight.

  Cloudhawk lifted his weapon, preparing to charge out to the aid of the beleaguered soldiers around him. As the saying goes, no eggs survive when the nest is destroyed. The outpost warriors were suffering horrendous casualties. Even if they managed to survive in the end, what good would a ruined outpost be to them?

  “Don’t be so impatient, kid.” Slyfox slapped a meaty hand on Cloudhawk’s shoulders, holding him back. The stone-faced Mad Dog spoke out in agreement: “Luck isn’t the only reason why Blackflag Outpost has been around for so long. The outpost has plenty of expert fighters and the dozens of elite guards haven’t made their move yet either. Why the hell are you rushing to your death?”

  Cloudhawk didn’t really understand what these two mercenary captains were thinking. The sweepers were smashing through their allies like rotting wood and the outpost had suffered hundreds of casualties in just a few short minutes. Were they seriously supposed to hold back at a time like this?

  One of the sweeper thugs lopped off the head of a guard with his war-axe. Just as he turned to seek out a new target, an incredibly muscular figure came charging straight towards him at incredible speeds. The muscular figure didn’t move to disguise his intent and wasted no time at all. He charged over, cocked his arm, clenched his fist, and delivered a punch!

  The sweeper thug was a veteran of over a hundred battles and immediately lifted his metal shield to block. The shield was made out of pure metal; not even an ordinary bullet would necessarily be able to pierce through it. There was no way it could be pierced through by a punch, right?

  CLANG! It was like a giant war hammer had slammed into his shield, with a large indent appearing at the point of impact! The sweeper thug was sent stumbling backwards as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt. One step, two steps, three steps… he staggered back three steps before regaining his footing. The sweeper thug let out a furious roar, his iron boots digging into the ground as he used them to anchor himself into the ground. He then struck out with the great war-axe in his right hand, sending it sweeping forward in a heavy counter-attack.

  The muscular man in front of the sweeper thug delivered another punch! Sparks danced across the blade of the war-axe as it began to crack apart, flying out of the sweeper thug’s hand! Even the thug’s fingers were broken from the collision. Finally, the sweeper revealed a look of utter terror.

  A third punch came straight at him! It was as fast as a ghost and had the power of a thunderbolt! The sweeper thug was actually knocked into the air, his metal chest-plate caving in and his ribs completely snapping. Even his heart was heavily damaged by the power of this blow. The blow was no mere “punch.” Getting hit by it was like being slammed into by a freight train!

  “Oho!” The mysterious man turned to glance at the newcomer with some degree of interest. This tall, muscular man was none other than one of the captains of Blackflag Outpost’s elite guards… Grizzly!

  Grizzly wore a pair of heavy steel boxing gloves over his hands. In terms of raw power, he was probably every bit the equal of Mad Dog. After finishing off the sweeper thug with three quick blows, he turned and chose a tall, hulking maneater as his next target.

  The maneater could sense Grizzly’s animosity and the danger he posed. The maneater pulled his great war hammer from a heap of mangled flesh and swept it towards his opponent with such power that it generated a stinging wind, sending chunks of blood and gore splattering over Grizzly’s body.

  This furious attack had an insane amount of power behind it, but Grizzly did not retreat. He stepped forward, welcoming the rain of blood. As he sidestepped the heavy blow, he delivered a sudden punch to the maneater’s kn
eecap, shattering it into tiny bits. Next, he used one leg to step on the war hammer, pressing it even further into the ground and preventing the maneater from lifting it back up. He then used his other leg to deliver a powerful kick to the maneater’s thick, muscled arm. CRACK! The maneater’s right arm was instantly broken by the power of this kick.

  Grizzly flexed his legs, leaping high into the air and delivered a punch to the maneater’s jaw. Not even the latter’s helmet was able to stop Grizzly’s furious, ferocious power. Even the mutant’s lower teeth were shattered and its enormous form fell backwards, stunned. The maneater let out an enraged, agonized howl as it sought to rise once more, but a foot came crashing down upon its chest and sent it right back down again.

  Arm cocked. Fist clenched. Punch! Grizzly’s right hand completely smashed the maneater’s ugly face apart. This hammer-like blow was so heavy that the mutant’s face was reduced to a pile of completely unrecognizable mush.

  Finally, one of the terrifying monstrosities was destroyed. As expected, the elite captains possessed incredible power! His display of explosive strength and supernatural agility instantly boosted the flagging morale of the outpost defenders.

  Grizzly was panting slightly. This sort of blitzkrieg offense was overwhelmingly powerful yet hard to sustain, and even an expert like him found it quite taxing.

  A soft chuckle rang out from beneath the mysterious figure’s hood, as though he didn’t care at all about the death of his subordinates. He gently waved his hands in a commanding gesture, causing a number of archers to train their sights towards Grizzly. A wave of steel-tipped arrows shot out with incredible force, but right at this moment, a black blur suddenly flashed past, using his blade to strike down all the arrows with incomprehensible speed. This blur was the other captain of the elite squad, Wulf!