The Wastelander

by Tipsy Wanderer

  At their zenith, the arrows were like twinkling stars filling the sky. The telltale whistle of their carving through air emerged as they hung still for but a moment. Then, the arrows came crashing down like a meteor shower, streaks of white light cast from heaven. A chorus of wails arose from Blackwater’s fighters for these brilliant arrows all hit their marks. Most terrifying was that they were semi-autonomous – even in midair, they could slightly change trajectory towards their target. Although the archers had appeared to fire at random, their accuracy was, in fact, very high.

  “Ah!”

  One of the defenders’ leaders fled for a few paces to no avail. Half a dozen arrows pierced him from several directions.

  The arrows did more damage than one might expect, piercing through iron shields and armor like they didn’t exist. In a single volley, the Blackwater soldiers were routed and fled every which way, more a mob than an army.

  Skycloud’s forces had summoned a rain of death! The result was overwhelming. The disparity between the two sides was too great.

  132 Demon hunters

  Skycloud’s four battalions marched indomitably forward in a square formation, moving with impressive speed while also shooting arrows toward their foes. Wave after wave of glimmering arrows peppered the battlefield in a torrent of deadly fire.

  Each movement was precise, showing that the holy warriors had practiced this maneuver thousands of times. Two thousand warriors drew their bows and fired in perfect unison so that their arrows peppered the distant enemy all at once. Faced with this terrifying assault, the wastelanders broke ranks and scattered.

  Over the course of a few minutes, the swamp had become a miserable tract of corpses, bleeding into the fetid waters. Everywhere one looked was struggle and pain. Countless shafts of holy light traced the path of Skycloud arrows as they buried themselves in the flesh of Blackwater’s defenders. Resplendent though they looked, each one was a wastelander’s ticket to hell. They could not run, only die.

  All the while, the two armies drew closer and closer, but Blackwater’s soldiers had long since ceased to fight back. Waves of arrows had collapsed their organization as well as their morale. Those that remained were only concerned with fleeing to save their lives with no thought given to fighting off the invaders.

  Augustus Cloude’s face split into a contemptuous smirk. He motioned to his left and right with a wave, and then spoke in an almost flippant tone, “Kill them!”

  Skycloud’s soldiers stopped and shifted from their long-range formation to a charge configuration. Even their bows underwent a miraculous change as their bowstrings retracted of their own volition. The curved, carved jade bows bend at an angle and their sharp ends jutted out another half a foot. In seconds, the bows had transformed into six-foot-long melee weapons with blades on each end. The soldiers held them from the middle.

  In fact, these weapons had four unique forms. The first was the long-ranged bow, and the second was the double-ended glaive. In addition, it could also be detached at the center to be dual wielded or be affixed side by side to form a double-headed broadsword.

  These items were works of art, masterfully crafted weapons of destruction. They were perfect for any situation: long ranged, glaives for charging, powerful two-handers. It put the holy warriors’ skill and ingenuity on display.

  Skycloud’s army began their charge!

  Two thousand soldiers arranged themselves in charge formation, and as they raced ahead, both sides swept around to the defenders’ flanks. The two battalions in the center went straight in and started the slaughter. More than their training, it was clear that Skycloud’s soldiers were of a much higher quality than Blackwater’s even before one considered equipment.

  How could a band of wastelands rabble hope to stand against them?

  One of the Skycloud officers brandished his glaive and broke through the enemy ranks. Holding his weapon by its center, he spun like a deadly steel dervish, leaving blood and severed limbs in his path. He was a tempest, and wherever he passed, shouts of pain and misery followed. The rest of his battalion followed in his wake, easily destroying the wastelanders’ weapons and armor. Death’s own scythe would struggle to claim as many lives.

  All told, the battle lasted an hour. By the end, the marsh was a graveyard, and the wastelanders’ weapons, like tomb markers, had been discarded where they died. To the warriors of the Elysian lands, these crude tools were filthy and inferior.

  One of the Skycloud officers trotted over to Augustus Cloude. “Milord, the blasphemers have been destroyed. We’ve suffered no losses.”

  Augustus Cloude stood on the slope of a hill and surveyed the field. Behind him, fourteen demon hunters clad in pure white stood in a line. None of them had reacted as the battle raged, for they were the champions of the gods, the greatest warriors of the Elysian lands. In war, they were deployed to handle particularly stubborn foes. Thus, their lack of participation showed just how easily Blackwater’s defenders had been defeated.

  Augustus Cloude fiddled with the cuff of his right arm. “Have you found the entrance?”

  Respectfully, the officer replied, “We have sir, but the gates have been shut. Our men are searching for a way through.”

  Blackwater Base’s defenses were designed around hydraulic systems. Forcing the doors open would not be easy.

  Augustus Cloude swept his eyes across the scene once more and then signaled with his hand. The officer interpreted the motion and relayed the order, “Everyone, stand your ground!”

  Like robots, Skycloud’s soldiers froze, not moving a muscle. Meanwhile, Augustus Cloude made his way to the thick door that barred their passage. He merely had to place his hand upon the sturdy iron, and all of a sudden, cracks began to spread from the point of contact. Chunks weighing several tons split and fell away, creating an opening large enough for them to enter in a single file. The hole stretched all the way through the door, which was several feet thick, to the other side.

  “Claudia Lunae, Raith Umbra. With me.”

  From the fourteen demon hunters, the two youngest stepped forth. From the looks of it, Augustus Cloude was going to use this as a training opportunity.

  Part of the base’s defenses included a defensive post with a turret manned by a single soldier. Once the door was breached, he began flooding the hall with fire from the chain gun. No normal person could withstand the damage it put out.

  It was a choke point, and in theory, one man could hold the gate against a whole slew of attackers.

  Augustus Cloude came prepared, however. While the turret was too much for the junior demon hunters, he could hold out against it for a time. Before the turret gunner had time to react, Augustus Cloude let a small black metal orb slip from his sleeve. It was a relic, and as it floated into the air, an invisible force field sprang to life. Bullets as thick as carrots were met with a repulsive force that held them fast like they were caught in glue. Each bullet struck with hundreds of pounds of force, only to instantly stop. Except, even though their forward momentum was arrested, they began to turn red and smolder from intense heat.

  In a brow-raising display, the bullets were arrested in midair to create a curtain of red-hot lead. They were so hot that they began to melt, but not a single one got close to the demon hunters.

  How could this be? The turret gunner gaped in shock, for he had never seen a living creature able to survive his heavy weapon. Nor had he ever seen a power as strange as this one that could stop bullets.

  The female demon hunter, Claudia, shut her eyes. She reached out with her will and used it to scan the area like radar. After a moment, she pointed towards a direction, and that was when her male counterpart reacted. Raith lifted a primitive-looking bow that was vastly different from the sort normal soldiers used. It was an unassuming weapon, its only distinguishing aspect being the runes etched along its pitch-black length.

  Without nocking an arrow, he aimed the bow and pulled back the string. An imposing gathering of energy coalesced before the
weapon and an arrow appeared from the air.

  His fingers relaxed. Twang!

  The arrow effortlessly penetrated the turret gunner’s cover and lodged itself in his gun, resulting in a loud thud followed by an explosion. Shrapnel tore through his body, even blowing his eyes out from his skull.

  Augustus Cloude didn’t waste any time. Just as he had from the outside, the master demon hunter approached the inner door and placed his hand upon it, reducing it to rubble. The other demon hunters entered once the coast was clear. Fifteen figures in white led the way into Blackwater Base.

  Skycloud’s soldiers were close on their heels. They exploded through the base, leaving behind a desolate vision of blood and mangled flesh. Those from the Elysian lands gave the wastelanders no quarter. The old, the young, and the sick were cut down without hesitation, for anyone with the blood of the wilds in their veins was the spawn of evil. Killing them was no sin. On the contrary, it was an act of faith and honor.

  Blackwater Base knew they were coming. The most important materials were already gone. Their leader had also vanished, leaving no trace or body.

  Augustus Cloude scowled. He ordered his soldiers to spare a hundred survivors, but this fate was worse than a death sentence for them. They were beaten, abused, and tortured until they gave him the information he wanted.

  Before very long, an officer returned to Augustus and reported the situation.

  “The base’s leader fled a day ago, taking the evil technology with her. Our interrogations revealed three separate escape routes, but we aren’t sure which one they took. We also learned that this base had produced a batch of those intelligent monsters but released them into the wild several days ago. No one knows where they went.”

  “Hmph. Even for blasphemers, I would not have expected that they would do something so despicable.” The young female demon hunter spat the words with disdain, “We can’t let those wicked experiments reproduce or allow that evil research to get out.”

  Augustus Cloude nodded and then spoke to the officer who gave him the report, “Any other information?”

  “A few of them, well…”

  “Out with it!”

  “Yes, sir. A few of those we interrogated claimed that a demon hunter had appeared in the camp. He helped the base’s current leader revolt and take over. He stayed for about twenty days. They claimed he left a few days ago.”

  Astonishment appeared on the faces of the younger demon hunters. Their order had nothing but the most devout warriors. How could something like this be true? Was he some sort of turncoat? That would be a crisis for the entire demon hunter community!

  “Our primary concern must be that research and those monsters they created. As for the demon hunter, from their descriptions, he is not very skilled – a novice at best.” Augustus Cloude absently played with a ring on his hand as he spoke to the two demon hunters beside him. “Claudia, Raith. I leave him to you. Can you handle it?”

  “Yes, sir!” Both of the junior demon hunters perked up. The one called Claudia confirmed, “We will certainly complete the mission!”

  “Take a hundred soldiers with you.” Augustus Cloude nodded as though the matter was settled. “This is your first mission in the wastelands on your own. Conduct yourselves well. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Raith’s brows knit as he spoke, “Milord, the two of us should be more than enough for some piddling renegade. You should keep the men for chasing down blasphemers. We can do this without support.

  “These evil lands are more dangerous than you think, and what’s more, we know neither the identity nor the true strength of this stranger. We must ensure that you remain safe throughout the assignment.” Clearly, he had made up his mind. “Very well, you have your orders. You have seven days. Bring that turncoat back here dead or alive.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  With their task made clear, the two young demon hunters selected a hundred men and left in search of the traitor Cloudhawk.

  133 The Lighthouse

  The sky darkened as dusk approached. In the center of the small outpost was a lighthouse, whose inviting light guided travelers to safe harbor. A sole traveler appeared on the horizon, neither tall nor strong but facing the wastelands alone. That fact alone made him a man not to be underestimated.

  The rifle slung over his shoulder was a symbol of status. The lizard he rode signified means.

  Equipped in this way, one would be the focus of attention anywhere. Women felt safe around such a man and were willing to give up much for his company. The guards of Lighthouse Point were delighted when they saw him and scurried to open the gates.

  “He’s back! He really came back!”

  “Quick, quick! Open the gate!”

  The masked man claimed to be a bounty hunter when he had come earlier in the day to replenish his food and water. Unfortunately, the situation at Lighthouse Point was poor, and they had little they could trade. Instead, the leader struck a deal. He told the hunter of a creature nearby that was threatening the outpost. If he were to kill it, the leader would be happy to generously compensate him.

  When the stranger returned from the wastes, the first thing they noted was the head hanging from his saddle. It was enormous, sported two jutting tusks, and looked like some sort of combination of a lion and a leopard. The one head had to weigh at least several dozen pounds.

  Judging by the skull alone, one shuddered to think what it used to be attached to. Beyond being incredibly ferocious, the beast had also been cunning. It was a surprise to find that this hunter could so easily do away with it. He had to be a real talent of the wastelands!

  “Hahaha! Good lad, a real benefactor of Lighthouse Point! Come in, come in.”

  A burly man in his forties to fifties came close, hobbling on an injured right leg. A pair of copper teeth twinkled in his wide grin. This was the outpost’s leader, and he went by the name Coppertooth.

  Cloudhawk greeted him with a small nod.

  The wastelands were a forgetful place. After spending some time in Blackwater Base, it seemed like all his previous troubles had blown over. Mercenaries and bounty hunters had moved on to other prey. His wanted status was old news. The rhythm of the wastelands was quick. Twenty days was like an eternity.

  Even the most affluent mercenary groups couldn’t afford to go most of a month without income. They took a great risk in sweeping the deserts for Cloudhawk. Especially once he’d disappeared, rumors began to circulate that the young demon hunter had been eaten by some wild critter. With not even so much as a corpse to recover, his pursuers lost interest.

  The changes his body had undergone were another thing. He was still thin but was taller than before – a little over five and a half feet. The former scavenger was more muscular, too, and the weapon that had previously marked him as a demon hunter had been replaced by weapons he received from Hellflower and Blackwater Base.

  The Bloodsoaked Queen’s mask was able to change at will. Everywhere he went, he wore a different face. To an untrained eye, the invisibility cloak looked like any other ratty piece of clothing. After such a profound transformation, he could strut across the outpost and no one would know who he was.

  Four days and five nights had passed since Cloudhawk left Blackwater Base, and things had gone smoothly. The only danger he’d encountered was a sandstorm a few days ago that cost him some food and water. That loss was what brought him to Lighthouse Point.

  Coppertooth prepared a feast for Cloudhawk in thanks that consisted mostly of mutant animal meat. The meat was tough and stale, but it was not hard to see that it was a rare treat here in Lighthouse Point.

  “Thank you, brother. Our resources are limited so we can only show you our thanks in this way.”

  Cloudhawk didn’t mind. He removed his mask which earned shocked looks from the people around. They’d thought he was just thin, but he was, in fact, quite young.

  Cloudhawk addressed Coppertooth, “What about the things I asked for?”

  The hunting j
ob he’d done for them was not done out of the goodness of his heart. His price had been simple: enough jerky and water to last ten days.

  It didn’t sound like a lot, and in fact, since his ordeal in Blackwater, Cloudhawk’s appetite had only grown. He could eat as much as five large men, and he didn’t know why. He figured it had something to do with the Trespasser virus inside him. Maybe, it was consuming a lot of his energy to multiply. It caused him no small amount of concern.

  He didn’t know what changes his body was going through. He had to find the Dark Atom quickly and the cure he hoped they had.

  Coppertooth’s smile fled from his face, replaced with an awkward unease.

  Cloudhawk was clearly irritated by what he knew was coming. “Is there a problem?”

  “Uh, brother. You asked for more than I thought.” His sheepish grin was sincere. “We don’t have ten days of jerky meat.”

  Cloudhawk’s frown deepened. Not even ten days of jerky?

  Lighthouse Point was unique in that it was a very small outpost. There were fewer than two thousand people living here, which was much smaller than most other settlements. The elderly, women, and children made up about half of that number.

  The elderly, women, children. These words were synonyms for weakness out here, and the weak depended on the strong to survive. If there were too many, they became a burden, and it is for this reason that most other settlements tried to keep those numbers low. Women and children had some value, but the old and infirm were often cast out due to resource concerns.

  The consequence of Lighthouse Point’s unique population was that they were small, weak, and always lacking resources. Their main diet consisted of whatever roots they could dig up and insects they could catch. Meat was a rare delicacy, especially the sort they could store for a long time to turn into jerky. It was one of their most important stockpiles.