The Wastelander

by Tipsy Wanderer

  Each time Cloudhawk was in danger of being overcome, he used his cloak to slip away. It went on in this way for five minutes.

  All of a sudden, Claudia felt intense dizziness assail her. She had to slow or risk falling over. Her feet hit the ground with a heavy thud but were stable despite the fact that every muscle in her body was screaming in pain.

  She’d begun to claw her way out of the madness that had gripped her. Covered in sweat, gasping for breath, she saw the masked traitor stop as well. They stood a hundred and fifty feet apart, just staring at one another. Claudia could feel the mirth coming off the masked man even though she couldn’t see his face.

  “Evidently, your master never taught you to use energy sparingly in a fight.”

  She was spent. Cloudhawk could see it. The demon hunter was stronger than he was, but not devastatingly so like the Bloodsoaked Queen. Killing him wouldn’t be easy for her. Exploiting her anger, forcing her to chase him and use her staff had improved his odds.

  Seven or eight times. That’s how many strikes she’d made with her staff.

  Before their encounter, she’d been hunting him with the help of her relic necklace. That had also cost her psychic energy. Now, she was spent not only mentally, but also physically as well.

  Cloudhawk’s simple tactic had succeeded. The idiot had wasted her advantage. As the old saying went, every dog had its day. Now… it was time for the hunted to become the hunter.

  “You…”

  Claudia knew she’d been tricked, but it was too late. They were surrounded by a maze of ruined buildings. No aid would come any time soon.

  Cloudhawk reached out his left hand and pointed a revolver at her while he clutched a knife in his right. He attacked. Claudia tried to activate her staff, but her attempt only earned her a tearing pain in her skull. It was too late. The bullets were coming at her.

  “Fuck!” She sidestepped what she could, her wrath still alive in her heart and filling her with the energy to continue. But, she only had enough strength to run. Behind her, that contemptible man continued shouting taunts.

  “Didn’t the honorable demon hunter say she wanted a face-to-face fight? Does this mean running away is also the style of holy warriors like yourselves? You Elysians. So virtuous.”

  Shame and fury filled her. His words struck her so acutely that she stopped long enough for one of his bullets to catch her in the thigh. Her legs weren’t armored, so the bullet dug in deep. In this era, there was no one to teach wastelanders how to be gentle with the fairer sex. Cloudhawk didn’t hesitate at all, moving in to finish what he started. His dagger was aimed for the flesh of her throat.

  Claudia was inexperienced in life and death struggles, but she was trained by the formidable demon hunters. She was weak and angry, but she still was not a helpless lamb before the butcher’s knife.

  Just as Cloudhawk’s dagger was poised to tear open her throat, Claudia flung herself forward. The razor edge of his dagger slipped over her head, taking a large patch of hair with it. Claudia tumbled forward, planted her hands on the ground, and pushed off. Spinning beautifully overhead, both staff and body came crashing towards Cloudhawk.

  Even without the added danger of psychic energy, the exorcist rod was sharp and lethal. Cloudhawk thought she was spent and was surprised to discover that she still had the energy to fight back. He lifted his left hand, using the revolver to deflect her blow. The gun was knocked away so hard that its barrel was irreparably bent.

  Claudia gathered herself for a second attack, but when her right leg hit the ground, the bullet wound was torn wider. The pain caused her to lose her balance. Cloudhawk, seizing the opportunity, whipped a kick at her. The demon hunter was knocked a dozen feet away.

  Having learned his lesson, Cloudhawk approached her more cautiously this time. “You really don’t fuck around.”

  Demon hunters were known for their abilities, especially in close quarters. The injury to her leg wasn’t severe, so she managed to quickly get back on her feet. It did, however, prevent her from being able to outrun her assailant. More troubling was the fact that Cloudhawk still had the energy to use his relics if needed.

  Claudia saw her plight clearly. If she didn’t run, the traitor could get behind her using his speed and invisibility to launch a sneak attack. That could be deadly. The other soldiers had to be close. If she could stall for a minute or two, they would surround the area and he would be trapped. That was her best chance at turning the tables.

  “Before I kill you, I want to ask you something.” Cloudhawk had to satisfy his curiosity before finishing it. “Why do you want me dead?”

  Claudia was guarded. She answered with a voice full of venom and loathing, “You’re a traitor. Do we need any other reason?”

  Behind the mask, Cloudhawk scowled. Did she think he was a demon hunter too? What a disastrous misunderstanding! But, it didn’t matter. Either she died or he did. He had no intention of dying today so it would have to be her.

  Cloudhawk grew up in the wastelands. He was a wastelander, through and through. Aggression and viciousness were baked into his bones. Yes, he was far kinder than most of his kin, but towards those who wanted to kill him, he held no pity at all. It didn’t matter that she was pretty or anything else. He lunged forward, flinging a dagger at her with his left hand with lightning speed!

  Clang! Her exorcist rod knocked it away.

  Cloudhawk spun the dagger in his right hand so that he held it in a reverse grip. Several vicious swipes followed, aimed at vital areas. Claudia danced out of harm’s way, protecting herself with her staff.

  Sparks flew with each collision. They clashed four or five times in the space of just a few seconds. Their weapons rang out in protest as they met again and again in midair.

  Her technique was better than his, allowing her to even go so far as to gain the upper hand. She knocked Cloudhawk’s attacks aside and then brought her staff down at his skull. Yet, much to her surprise, the traitor flung his hand out, causing an arrow made from sand to appear. The mystical attack easily split her armor and buried itself in her chest.

  She gasped in shock and fell to the floor.

  Claudia looked down at the shaft of the arrow jutting from her chest. Her face betrayed her shock. She couldn’t believe it. She simply couldn’t believe it! The bastard had other relics! He was just a defector. How could he be so well equipped? And with relics of much higher quality than the likes of her exorcist rod!

  Claudia’s tracking torque and Raith’s Lifedrinker arrow were both family heirlooms, true treasures that had been passed down from accomplished demon hunters. Yet, this traitor had at least two relics that rivaled theirs?!

  Cloudhawk felt exhaustion creeping up on him. This battle had been long and taxing. There wasn’t much left of his already miniscule amount of psychic energy. Suddenly, he heard the sounds of footsteps coming from several directions. The owner of one set shouted, “Mistress Claudia!”

  Claudia and Cloudhawk’s faces changed but in very different ways.

  She cried out, “Here!”

  Cloudhawk rushed at the injured demon hunter. They’d heard her, but he still had a few moments before they arrived. It was his last chance. She would stop at nothing to kill him. How could he allow her to live? If she was allowed to return to the Elysian lands, who knew what sort of danger she would put him in?

  Claudia faced Cloudhawk directly as he came her way. She knew he was going to kill her, but the wound to her chest was too severe. If she tried to fight back, it would only make it worse. Running wasn’t an option either, and she could no longer compete with his speed.

  What choice was there? She watched the masked man get closer. So this was how she would die…

  A bitter unwillingness filled her heart. She was a demon hunter! She wore that mantle with pride. She also bore hatred for this despicable traitor, a hatred that refused to abate. How could she allow herself to be killed by this scum?

  The light of his dagger came closer, inch by
inch!

  Claudia gripped her weapon tightly in her hands.

  He would die, even if it meant they died together! She would not die in disgrace!

  With this determination flooding through her, all fear was dispelled. Giving up was not an option. She mustered energy that she did not have and fought through the tearing pain in her skull, driven by the will to survive…

  …And a surge of power answered her call. Her exorcist rod stirred one last time, power warping the air around it.

  It would never have occurred to Cloudhawk that, in her death throes, this girl could tap into her latent potential [1]. He had already fully extended himself into this attack and was unable to back away. All he could do was try to shift his body and direct the blow towards the Gospel of Sand hidden beneath his clothes.

  Bang!

  Cloudhawk was knocked several feet away.

  Claudia’s face was a twisted mix of hatred and pain. The counterattack had cost her dearly, making her injuries worse and causing them to bleed profusely. She’d drawn more than her body could muster, and she could feel her consciousness begin to slip as she collapsed to the ground.

  It was unclear whether she was alive or dead.

  Cloudhawk coughed up several mouthfuls of blood and struggled to get back on his feet. The Gospel of Sand had managed to block much of the staff’s power, but it was still a potent weapon. He could feel several ribs had been broken, and there was some damage to his organs. It made it difficult to move.

  Just then, several soldiers appeared, approaching from different directions. Cloudhawk had to rely on his cloak’s power to hide him as he fled.

  “Mistress!” Seven of the soldiers she’d brought with her appeared and gathered around. Four of them surrounded Claudia on all four sides, bows drawn and alert for danger. The remaining three fished medicine from their emergency packs and set about trying to save her life.

  Claudia’s injuries were severe, but for now, they were not yet fatal. Two demon hunters had been sent on a mission; one was dead, and the other was wounded. No one could have expected that this was how it would end. One of the soldiers lifted her up onto his shoulders when Claudia’s eyes suddenly fluttered open. “He’s hurt bad,” she managed to croak out. “Call the others. Get them here to track him down. He has to be killed!”

  With her bitter command delivered, she slumped into unconsciousness.

  Elsewhere, Cloudhawk pulled off his mask. He stooped over and coughed, spitting blood all over the ground. He hadn’t expected to fall on such hard times or to be so badly injured in their skirmish. If the Skycloud soldiers caught up, chances were he’d end up a dead man, so he had to get as far away from here as possible.

  1. GAAAHHH!! You do this shit all the time! How can you not expect it from someone else?! Sorry… sorry. I’m ok.

  141 The Elysian Spirit

  Over ninety angry and well-armed soldiers converged on the ruins. They were quite a sight with their jade-like armor glimmering under the harsh wastelands sun. Standing dutifully in rows, they looked like statues someone had inexplicably placed in the middle of nowhere. Two figures lay before them: one dead, Raith, and the other severely wounded and unconscious, Claudia.

  Minutes. It had only been a few minutes, but this was the result.

  Powerful emotions surged within the Skycloud soldiers. Not fear, but rage and disbelief. Demon hunters were the elite blessed by the gods, the pride and glory of the holy city!

  Two young demon hunters with limitless potential had been laid low by a single turncoat of mediocre strength. The shame was not the demon hunters’ alone. This failure besmirched the illustrious name of these soldiers as well.

  “Senior Captain Brontes. What are our orders?”

  “Team One, you’ll be responsible for getting Masters Raith and Claudia back to Skycloud. The rest of you will continue on with me to complete the mission.” The currently highest ranking officer was a man in his thirties. He was outfitted much the same as the others with the exception of a delicate silver mask that covered his face. His steady gaze swept over the others. “We’re going to find him, and we’re going to kill him. No matter the cost.”

  Captain Brontes's orders were resolute, crisp, and straightforward. Determination burned in the eyes of his subordinates. This was no longer about accomplishing some task. This was about honor, and to a soldier, honor was more important than life itself.

  The soldiers’ weapons changed. Their bow shape disappeared as crests straightened, and the ends extended into sharp points to create a double-headed staff. Soldiers held them in the middle or slung them obliquely across their backs.

  Captain Brontes gave the order, “March!”

  All at once they moved into the ruins at a quick pace.

  Cloudhawk knew Skycloud’s soldiers weren’t going to let him escape so easily. They had one-track minds, and his blood was the only thing they’d accept as payment for their shame. Hoping they would let things go was like hoping the sun would suddenly rise in the west. Thus, Cloudhawk covered his wounded chest and staggered forward, all the while nursing his grievances.

  Why the fuck are they doing this?! I’ve never gone looking for trouble. Why does it always seem to find me?

  Cloudhawk couldn’t remember offending anyone he shouldn’t have nor could he think of any reason why he’d be the target of a pair of demon hunters and a hundred soldiers!

  That skilled girl had been recovered alive and would be returned to Skycloud. Who knew what back alley they’d one day cross paths in? There was no way he was going to catch her and finish the job before they took her away. Any soldier he came across would be itching to chop him into minced meat. No, if he managed to escape this shitty situation alive, he would already consider himself fortunate.

  He knew they were closing in on him like a pack of wolves. He could feel his sense of danger rising. He’d never fought them, but he could tell by their discipline and execution that Skycloud’s soldiers were a considerable force. Each one of them could be compared to a highly skilled wastelander.

  Not to mention their excellent equipment!

  Their armor looked like they were made from sheets of snow-white jade, so incredibly fine that it made him furious. Every plate was etched with beautiful and intricate designs like works of art. They were so beautiful and delicate, in fact, that at a glance, one had to wonder how effective they were at protecting. The answer was very much effective. Harder than steel and lighter by half, cushioned against impact, resistant to high temperatures and acid, insulated against electricity and more.

  Their weapons were exquisite. In addition to firing shots with more punch than a crossbow bolt, these things could transform into bladed weapons that cut iron like paper. Whatever situation the soldiers found themselves in, they would have the tools to do battle. Cloudhawk had once heard that Elysian soldiers shunned the use of guns and bullets, and now, it seemed obvious why. With weapons like theirs, wastelander equipment seemed unworthy of notice.

  Physically, their combat prowess was no less impressive than the demon hunters. In fact, for conventional search and destroy missions like this, they were more experienced. Raith and Claudia were young, after all. They hadn’t yet been hardened by trials of real-world combat. In contrast, these soldiers were true veterans, many even having spent time cleansing the wastelands before.

  Using blood from the traitor’s wounds, the soldiers were able to get a general sense of where he was headed, whereupon they began to carefully comb through the area. Normally, Cloudhawk wouldn’t find it too difficult to evade notice, but he was wounded and exhausted from the earlier battle. Any advantage in speed that he had was gone.

  As for fighting? Any one of his hunters could instantly become a sniper and pick him off from several hundred feet away.

  Cloudhawk had no guns, and his psychic energy was almost entirely drained. What was he supposed to do? Fling his weakened body around with a few knives and hope for the best? He might as well smash his own skull i
n. It would be a less painful death.

  They were closing in… but he wasn’t overly concerned. With the help of his cloak, he became invisible. He just had to be careful not to touch anything or leave any trace of his passage. For the moment, he evaded capture.

  Cloudhawk found a hole in the ground to hide away in. It was a situation he found disturbingly familiar.

  He thought back to when he was fifteen and collecting scraps not so long ago. It felt like he was that helpless kid again, cowering in a hole to hide from the dangerous creatures of the wastelands. The danger that hunted him now was far more threatening, but he wasn’t the scavenger boy from before either.

  He covered himself in dirt, regulated his breathing and tried to slow his heart rate. He relaxed every muscle in his body like a creature preparing to hibernate, perfectly silent, perfectly dormant. This level of control over body systems, muscles, even pores, was something only an accomplished control metahuman could pull off. Cloudhawk had improved so much since his escape from Blackflag Outpost that the difference between him back then and him as he was right now was like the difference between night and day.

  Twenty hours passed.

  The soldiers hunting Cloudhawk were tired. Having all of that anger with nothing to vent it on made them more and more agitated. They grew bolder and spread out their search to cover a larger area, but no trace of the traitor could be found.

  It was dark, still several hours before dawn.

  Cloudhawk felt now was his best opportunity to flee. A patch of dirt stirred, and a figure wriggled free into the darkness. He felt like the dead clambering from the grave, heavy and uncoordinated. His joints creaked and popped, and over the next few minutes, his nerves, muscles, breathing, and heart rate slowly returned to normal.

  He breathed a mouthful of fetid air.