by Aaron Oster
It wasn’t that he was angry at these men and women and wanted them dead, nor did he feel any great satisfaction in beating down the people who’d tried to deny him entry. In his mind, he was doing what was necessary to succeed in his mission, just as they were following orders handed down by the queen.
“Maybe the next set will take my advice,” he said, turning back to the group of downed guards.
The attack had, of course, drawn the attention of the crowds, some of which were approaching as though wanting to intervene. Not wishing to beat up more weaklings, Morgan decided to just run this time. The open gates were before him, and there was a group of half-conscious, injured people between them.
Quickly, he turned and began running into the palace grounds. He was confronted almost immediately by another group. All of the people in this group were ranked in the 40’s, though there were only five of them this time. Not even waiting for them to prepare for a fight, he simply bowled right through them, confident that he wouldn’t kill them, though injuries were likely.
The reason he hadn’t bothered talking was simple. He understood how those of such power thought. They thought that no one could possibly be stronger than them, seeing as such a small percentage of the people in the Five Kingdoms even came close. The crack of bones as he passed through the small group was a lot louder and more pronounced, but people at high ranks like this could handle a little pain just fine.
Morgan kept going, dashing between the tall lines of shrubbery and making for the palace. He could have flown, but that would make him far too conspicuous. By now, he’d already have given away his power to anyone watching, and he had no doubt that someone was indeed watching. If he took off, he’d immediately give his identity away.
There weren’t many in the North Kingdom who could take out a group of rank 40’s, and there was only one person of that rank who could fly. Sure, the list of people who he could be would be extremely short, but it was always better to be underestimated, especially when going into an unknown.
The fact that the East had so many strong and capable fighters told Morgan that if anything, Katherine had done just that. The East’s fighting power was astonishing, and if they were to go up against the North at this moment, they would undoubtedly win. In fact, if they were to go up against the combined forces of the North, Central, and West, they’d probably still come out on top.
This was not counting the very strongest fighters in the Kingdoms, which were likely inside the palace, rather than at or inside the gates. The mere fact that the gate and palace guards were so strong, even if they were probably in an elite unit, was a telling sign of the East’s military might. Now that he had seen it firsthand, Morgan knew that there was no way he’d be leaving without securing their aid.
He didn’t have a difficult time finding the entrance, a massive gate that was closed tight. Before it stood another group of guards. They were also in the low 40’s, though they were ranked between 42 and 44, whereas the ones from earlier were a mix of 40 and 41. And unlike the last group, they were ready, attacks prepared and already on their way when he came barreling out of the shrub-obscured path.
Morgan had sensed it all ahead of time, of course, though they had no way of knowing this. He had made sure to position himself to take the least of the attacks. His shield stayed hidden, as did his other defenses because their color would give him away. Still, he had no problem avoiding the sharpened bar of steel headed right for his face, nor dodging the half-dozen green crystals attached to its surface.
Even though he was nimbly avoiding the other attacks, he couldn’t avoid the explosion that erupted under his feet, blowing him a good fifteen feet up and completely ruining his shoes.
“Damn it all!” he cursed, landing back on the ground, completely unharmed, just in time to be hit by several more attacks.
His arms came up in a cross block, catching the steel beam, though it did push him back a few steps. Another attacker came in from the side, swinging a glowing red fist the size of his torso, right at his exposed head. Morgan knocked the beam aside, snapping his left hand up to catch the blow. He then ducked, avoiding an attacker who’d burrowed beneath the ground and tried to spear him from behind.
Then, his counterattack came, and it was so lightning fast that none of them could even hope to react. His leg scythed out, cracking the big-fisted man’s ankle. In the same rotation, his outstretched fist caught the burrower in the hip, cracking the bone and taking him down. He stopped his rotation then, smacking the steel beam off course, and right into the woman conjuring the exploding crystals.
Her mage shield was active, but the force of the unexpected attack smashed through it, likely breaking more than a few bones. Before the steel beam attacker could recover, Morgan was already before him. His fist came up in the short uppercut, taking the man in the gut. The blue shield shattered, leaving him to collapse, clutching at his stomach and vomiting up blood.
Still, there were no deaths, which in Morgan’s book, had to be a record. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d stormed a place and no one had ended up dead. With the last line of defense down, Morgan was now clear to enter the palace. So, stepping past the groaning guard, Morgan knocked.
***
“What in the bloody hells is going on out there?!”
Queen Le’vine, ruler of the East Kingdom, was in the middle of a very important lunch meeting with a dozen of her top advisors and heads of trade when the echoing boom shook the entire palace.
Vincent, her head of shipping, stood from his seat as though to make for the door and find out for her. He didn’t get far as the door was slammed open, and Brandon, one of the heads of her personal guard, stumbled in. Le’vine was shocked to see that he was limping, his left leg oddly twisted and misshapen, and blood streamed from a gash in his forehead.
“We’re under attack, Your Highness,” the man said, doing his best to hide his pain. “We need to get you out of here right now.”
A low, worried murmuring swept through the room at that proclamation. After all, who could be attacking the palace, let alone had the strength to injure a rank 46 super of Vincent’s caliber?
“How many?” Le’vine asked, rising quickly from her seat at the head of the table.
Vincent’s grimace told her the answer before he said it aloud.
“Just one,” he said. “The envoy from the North.”
Inwardly, Le’vine cursed her bad luck. It was just like that witch Katherine to send a monster to try and make some sort of deal. She always had been heavy-handed in her tactics, so it figured she’d be the same in matters of politics and negotiation.
“Everyone remain here,” Le’vine said, raising her voice. “This is the safest location in the palace, and there’s no way a single fighter, no matter how strong, can get past all of the guards.”
Though she said this out loud, deep down, the Queen wasn’t so sure. Vincent was one of her strongest, and if he’d been this badly injured, it meant that the fighter was likely at or over the old maximum rank of 50. Currently, there was only a single fighter in the entire East who could hope to challenge someone like that, and she was miles away. The Queen debated, just for a moment, letting it be and leaving her out of this, but another rumbling crash soon changed her mind.
“Let’s go,” she told Vincent, moving to the exit. “If the envoy came here to talk, it’s unlikely we’ll be killed out of hand. If we can stall him long enough, it’ll give Hilda time to return.”
Vincent nodded before turning to escort her out of the room. The people within did as they were told, staying where they were. When the Queen gave an order, it was expected to be obeyed and without question.
16
Morgan dashed through the decadent halls of the palace, trying unsuccessfully to find his way to the throne room. Normally, he’d just use his Aura Sense to find the most powerful people in the place. However, there were dozens of strong fighters, some of which he’d already faced, and was therefo
re having a difficult time.
Another powerful group of guards was quickly approaching, and Morgan decided he just didn’t have the patience to face them. So, he sped up, using his Concussive Burst to increase his speed. The world slowed to a snail’s pace, his perception speeding up to keep him from slamming into the nearest wall.
At this speed, he easily made it past the corridor that the guards were coming down. He even had time to peer down said corridor as he passed, watching the four people seemingly frozen mid-step with looks of anger, worry, and apprehension plastered on their faces.
Morgan briefly debated running up to them and placing them in embarrassing positions before continuing on. It was something he’d always wanted to try, imagining the scene as all four guards were running one moment, fully clothed and prepared for battle, and in their underwear the next, their faces covered in pink paint.
Of course, he had no idea where he’d even get the paint from, so the idea wasn’t exactly a sound one, but still, the thought made him laugh. Tempted as he was, Morgan knew he had a mission to complete, one that had already eaten up enough of his time. So, instead of indulging in a bit of childish fun, he continued on down the corridor, taking a sharp right and heading to the most concentrated group of power in the place.
Seeing as he hadn’t been able to gauge which would be the Queen, he’d simply picked them as the most likely candidates and headed in their direction. The number of powerful fighters continued to surprise him. Most Kingdoms could only boast about three to four dozen such fighters, but the East had easily double those numbers.
The West, in fact, had far fewer than even that. Under the leadership of its last Queen, Hu Vah, they hadn’t exactly prospered. A weak ruler leads to weak subjects, a trait that her successor, Shane, didn’t seem to share. Though Morgan had yet to meet the man, he’d heard that he was obsessed with gaining power at any cost, which was likely why he’d been ambitious enough to try and attack the North several months back.
The other Kingdoms, such as the Central and South, would have numbers similar to the North. The war between the first two had greatly reduced those numbers, making it all the easier for the Pinnacle King to defeat them. Morgan had no doubt that once the North fell, the Central Kingdom would be next. Without a doubt, they’d fall just as easily.
By that point, even with all their powerful fighters, the combined forces of the South, East, and West wouldn’t be able to hold back the tide, and humanity as they knew it would vanish forever.
Morgan took a hard right, finding himself heading away from the large group yet again. The twisting and turning layout of the place was starting to wear on his last nerve, so when Morgan came to the end of the corridor and found it was leading away once more, he decided to take a shortcut.
“All walls must die!” he yelled, right before slamming headlong into the wood paneling and tearing straight through it.
He had no idea why he’d yelled that. It had just seemed appropriate at the time. The entire building shook with the power of the impact, now triple his normal strength, thanks to his skill which would still be active for another ten or so seconds. He burrowed through stone, wood, and insulation as though they were made of paper, continuing on until he broke out of the other side, now completely filthy and covered in dust.
The room he emerged into was richly decorated, containing a single oak desk and dozens of bookshelves.
Probably a study of some sort, he thought, reorienting himself on the large group. He was about to smash through another wall and keep going, when something caught his attention.
Two figures had broken off from said group and were heading in the opposite direction. They were both quite strong, one super and one mage. And now that they were separated from the larger group, he could sense that one of them – the mage – was the strongest person he’d felt in the palace so far.
Though there was no certainty and he could be taking a gamble, Morgan had a strong hunch that this was the Queen he’d been looking for. The racket he’d been causing would undoubtedly have reached her by now, and she’d have moved to either act against him, or seek shelter. Either way, Morgan was confident he’d be meeting her soon.
Let’s hope I’m right, Morgan thought, running straight through a bookshelf and destroying what were likely priceless works of literature. He silently promised himself not to mention this to Sarah, ever. She was obsessed with books, and if she found out he’d done the unthinkable…
Morgan once again forced his thoughts away from her before they could lead to trouble, instead focusing on the task of running through decades-old spider webs. This wall wasn’t as thick, and he crashed through the other side just moments later, shattering stone blocks and scattering them all over the open wine room.
Inwardly wincing at all the cracked bottles, Morgan moved to the door this time, but accidentally pulled too hard, tearing it from its hinges and sending it sailing behind to shatter several casks that were probably extremely expensive.
By now, he was sure there wouldn’t be any peaceful talks or negotiations, so his best bet would be to try and use fear as a motivator. Not fear of him, of course. He probably wouldn’t follow through on a threat to murder a whole bunch of people. No, what he’d need to use was the fear of what the Pinnacle King could do. He’d seen it enough times to be able to paint a pretty vivid picture, and if he could scare the East into helping, then maybe they wouldn’t declare war on the North when this was all over.
The two figures were slowing now, and Morgan could sense several others converging on their location. This further assured him that he was likely on the right path, and with only a few more walls separating them, Morgan could begin to feel the end of this part of his mission nearing. Just a few more minutes and he may even be able to leave with the promise of help extracted from the Queen.
Rulers were only as good as their word, so Morgan had no doubt that it would be kept if she promised aid. Now all that was left was the convincing part. A wall appeared before Morgan, and he felt a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he slammed bodily into it. It would be nice to finish up here and move on. He still had the majority of his mission ahead and the more time he wasted, the larger the chance that the North would fall in his absence.
***
Le’vine reached her throne room roughly a minute before the rest of her guards, moving to compose her features and sit in the oversized throne. Personally, she’d never much cared for the chair, but her late husband had insisted that a ruler should always speak from a position of strength. He also said that perceived power was just as good as actual power when it came to politics.
She’d never really been one for political intrigue. That had been Lionel’s passion, not hers. However, when he’d been killed in combat during a pirate ambush, the rulership of the Kingdom had fallen squarely on her shoulders. That had been over five years ago now and she found it hard to believe how much had changed since then.
The two of them hadn’t been married long. In fact, there were many who contested that as someone of one of the noble houses, who married into the royal family, she shouldn’t even be a contender for the throne. However, Lionel’s death had crushed his mother, and neither his younger brother nor sister had wanted to rule in his place, so the mantle had fallen to her.
The two of them hadn’t had any children, so there was no clear line of succession. But if either Shul or Hilda were to have children, she would immediately abdicate when they came of age. Due to her position, she could not remarry either, not that she even wanted to. Sure, she was still in her prime, young and beautiful, with many suitors asking for her hand.
However, seeing as she’d never viewed herself as Queen in the first place, her hypothetical husband would not be King, which was what most of those who propositioned her were after.
Le’vine wasn’t sure why her thoughts were wandering at a time like this. Perhaps the fear of imminent death had conjured thoughts of those who’d meant the most to her.
Sitting in the throne didn’t normally make her so melancholy, but she did her best to hide it from Vincent, who was standing at attention despite his injuries.
She’d have told him to leave if she thought he’d follow the order and seeing as she didn’t want to have to punish him for breaking a direct order from the queen, she didn’t ask him to. The doors burst open then and a dozen of her top guards streamed into the room, followed by Ingrid, the other head of her personal guard.
Altogether, they presented a terrifying force, one that could destroy armies and topple cities on their own. However, if a single fighter with the power to force entry into her palace was on his way, there was little chance they’d actually succeed in a fight, which was why she wasn’t going to allow one.
“Move into position,” Le’vine ordered. “You are not to engage unless he becomes hostile.”
Ingrid bowed, clapping a fist to her breastplate and moved to carry out her orders. As the room shook, motes of dust and debris were shaken down from the rafters above. Le’vine merely smoothed the front of her dress, clearing it from any rubble or dust as she prepared to meet their guest.
There was one last booming crash, followed by a cloud of dust that streamed into the room, obscuring the corridor beyond. All of her guards tensed, hands on their weapons just in case the attacker continued his rampage once he entered the throne room. Le’vine watched, squinting to try and peer through the obstruction.
The first hint she got of someone coming was the barest glimmer of violet light. Before she could figure out exactly what it was, a wave of sheer terror slammed into her like a wall of bricks. At rank 48, she was the most powerful one here, and able to best resist whatever powers this envoy had.
Her guards, trained as they were, were not so lucky. Around half of them dropped to their knees, eyes wide in terror. The other half, her commanders included, froze in place, seemingly unable to move. Le’vine could only watch as the light grew brighter and brighter until a figure became visible in the dust cloud.
