How did he get here? He was already past the trap I had set up.
I was certain. How could he enter the plaza without crossing through the gate?
"Gentlemen." He whispered, yet everyone heard it. "Manners seem pointless to some. They don't signify morality, intellect, or capability. They seem outdated, redundant even." He shook his head. "Manners exist to prevent tragedies such as this one. They exist so that one may act mindfully and respectfully even when they lack those traits, even if they stand before who they hate. Manners form the very fabric of social interaction, manners give us peace, manners maketh man."
He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. Then he fixed us with an unreadable gaze. "I don't want to be here." He paused, looking down at the corpses of his slain comrades. "Your master has killed many of my dear compatriots. He spurned my kindness and drew steel against me."
His shoulders tightened, no one dared move, dared speak. Every trigger-happy finger was frozen. It was his presence; it commanded stillness with its sheer weight. This wasn't supernatural. It wasn't some divine ability or magical aura. It was animal instinct, our own basal response to a threat: fight, flight, and, most commonly forgotten, freeze.
"I don't think this is anyone's fault really. Your leader was likely confused by a man named Shen. I can't blame him either; he was so drunk he threw up on my leg."
Around the gate, a wave of beasts began to swell. They didn't cross the threshold into the courtyard. Yet, they were within our trap's radius. The goal of the trap was to kill William; he was past it.
However, dealing with William now would already be complicated. If his allies were to join him, even if they simply charged us head-on like before, then our chances of victory would drop.
Roland's voice billowed out through a megaphone. "Shen is not here. We don't care about your intentions. You are an enemy; that is all there is to it."
"Ah, so we are bound to fight for no good reason?" William shook his head gently. "No, it's my fault. My men were desperate to rip you to shreds. You killed their brothers, and I have failed to instill in them the futility of retribution."
"So why come at all?" Roland replied. "Why show yourself when you don't agree with this fight?"
"Tribalism." William raised both fists and tucked his elbows. He bounced on the balls of his feet. The tension in his muscles faded as his massive, inhuman frame fell into a picturesque boxer's stance. "If they will fight and die, then I will fight too. Such is the meaning of friendship and loyalty."
I jumped down from the rooftop. My legs cushioned the impact, inner springs recoiling with a soft hiss. I walked forward, a lightness overtaking me.
I wasn't focused; my mind wandered to Steven, to Kiara, the captain, and Idris. If I failed to end this quickly, they could be in danger. The thought of my own life being lost didn't cross my mind, neither did the anticipation of the fight to come. Instead, as William looked me in the eye, I saw the same emotions swirl within them.
We were worried about those who stood behind us.
"I am sorry." William whispered. "But, I can't let you kill more of my—
The world shook. A sound so powerful, so sharp and brutal pierced right through me. No, it wasn't sound; it was force. It was the pure, unfiltered shockwave caused by the bombs I had planted.
I had detonated them.
The air filled with dust and debris. The gateway was sealed off by rubble. William's men snarled and howled; soldiers tucked behind windows.
William turned around, his ears moving before his head as his head swivelled towards the blast.
I shot forward. My metal talons clamped into the earth, less than a meter away from my foe. Mechanical joints tightened and strained, pneumatic muscles recoiled as force built. Then, I sprung up. My right fist, powered by the full coupling of every spring and piston within me, thrust upwards like an erupting volcano.
William barely had time to open his mouth. His eyes caught my movement far too late. I felt the caress of his fur against my knuckles, then the leathery skin beneath, the fat of his cheek compressing the blow struck. I heard the sound of snapping as I made contact, like a boulder tumbling down a mountain.
Then, nothing—no resistance. I felt my balance give way. I caught myself before I could stumble. The shockwave of the attack parted the dust around me. The unnatural smokescreen vanished as the air blew it asunder.
But William wasn't there. He was at my side, his own fist now touching my cheek.
…..
My vision was filled with static; I felt weightless, as if I had no body. A sudden rumble washed over me and pulled me; I felt myself move to the right, then to the left. Lastly, I felt myself move back.
My vision returned abruptly. My wings were shattered, my form splayed over a wall and slouched over. Blood, coolant, and oil covered my chest and lap. The lower half of my face was several meters away from me, pulped like a ripe tomato.
"Idris." Roland howled. I could hear the dread in his voice. I could hear the spikes start to rip into the mage as he gathered his power.
William looked into the building, no doubt drawn to it by the sound. No one dared open fire—not yet.
Suddenly, William went still; his eyes filled with shock. Idris locked him in place with his magic.
"FIRE." Roland roared.
The heavy weapons at William's flank opened fire; the rifles in front of him emptied their magazines.
The air before him became a swarm of metal, a hailstorm of militarized violence.
Again, William's jaw opened wide. Then, I heard a snap
The bullets struck the pavement, riddling it with small craters. But William, he was untouched. He stood above the building, his feet firmly planted on the roof.
The soldiers began to panic, weapons dropped, posts abandoned. Roland's voice cut through the haze of fear, yet it was no more composed than any of his men. "Out, now."
William's foot crashed down. The stomp ripped through the concrete. A massive crack extended down the building's side and onto the road. The statue, commemorating the old war, was split down the middle.
The men dove, some covering their ears and screaming, others crawled through the windows and scrambled through the doorway. William reached out with both hands and started digging through the roof like a child digging a hole on the beach.
Then, he dove into the crater he made. His form blurred like a dark comet. The windows exploded, dust blew through them and mixed with shards of glass. Screams rang out. Gunfire echoed through the building.
An ionized trail followed a sudden circular gap in the walls as one of the soldiers wielding a gauss rifle tried to fight back. First one shot, then a cascade of dazzling blasts ripped through the building.
The five shots were followed by five impacts, each sound carrying with it a shockwave that forced more dust out the shattered windows. This time, the dust was followed by funnels of blood and guts. Fleshy giblets rained down with each unseen strike William delivered as he carved his way down the building, floor by floor.
Steven and Kiara fell through the door. Roland followed, holding up a spent Idris like a fireman. They raced into the courtyard, drawing the eyes of the faltering soldiers around them.
Roland beckoned the soldiers placed laterally. They hesitated, seeing what William was capable of. But they were trained to follow orders even under significant doubt. They left the side buildings in a quick, yet neat fashion. They carried their heavy weapons with them and formed a rough cone facing the destroyed central building.
Steven held his rifle in shaking hands. He was hyperventilating, pale. "We are fucked, fucked." A sob escaped him.
"No, this is nothing." Kiara grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "We got through worse. We will get through this."
"Really?" His upper lip quivered. He held his breath, body vibrating from sheer panic.
"Yeah, because I won't let you die." Kiara squeezed his shoulders. She masked her own fear and smiled daringly.
He took a breath and nodded. Fear present, but more controlled now. "O… Ok."
My legs shook as I tried to stand. The weight of my own body felt crushing. My left arm hung by a few wires; it fully detached when I stood. The cables writhed like burning serpents. I supported myself with my intact arm.
I limped my way towards the others. Roland had managed to gather some semblance of order amongst the riflemen, organizing them in rows behind the cone of machine guns. Upon seeing me, a cold wave of dread ran through them. Then, despair as they realized their best chance at victory was in pieces.
I collapsed to one knee at Roland's side. I regurgitated a small puddle of coolant over myself before I managed to clear my throat and make my voice heard. "Get out of here. Escape, this fight is unwinnable."
Roland looked me down. Then, he smirked. "Who said I want to win this fight?"
"What?" The question grated its way out my mouth, like the sparks that leapt from my cranium. A resinous oil began to leak down my face.
"This fight never meant anything. No fight ever has. Resources, land, ideology, survival. It's all bullshit." Roland didn't seem desperate; he was calm. Oddly so. The tension he carried even at rest—it was gone now.
"I am sick of it all. Doing this for a reason, fighting to prove something, to justify my own existence, to redeem a sin. It's all just a waste, it's poison."
Then, Roland smiled. Smiled with a peace so utter that it unnerved me. "You know, I have always went into battle standing right behind my men. I wonder what it would be like to have them behind me instead?"
"Roland… Don't…"
But he didn't listen. He drew his blade and raised it to the sky. "Those who wish to live, find shelter. If you wish to die with me, then come forward." He declared, glee in his brow and a grin on his lips. "I forbid anyone from dying without his blood up to your knees."
Kiara stepped out to the front row, Steven at her side. A dozen soldiers followed them. The others retreated into the lateral buildings. Steven tried to pull her back, bring her to safety, but she resisted, standing her ground. "We can't. We can't throw our lives away." He protested.
"I won't run." She pursed her lips. Her eyes wide in an impossible display of determination. "This fight is important; it's the most important fight I will ever have." She let go of his arm. "It's the only time I ever got the choice to fight."
"No. You can't do this to me. You can't just go and throw your life away." He pleaded. He grabbed her by the forearm and tried to pull her away. "You can't die, I love you."
She sighed, then gently pulled his hand away before wrapping her own around his. She looked him in the eye. "You can't die, because I also love you." Then she leaned in. Their lips met for a brief moment before she pulled back.
He stepped away, stunned. He brushed a finger against his lips, then looked down at his hand and laughed at the tears that gathered in his palm. He turned back and slowly walked towards one of the side-most buildings.
Roland looked over to those who had gathered. He closed his eyes and giggled excitedly before pointing his blade to the centermost building. "Fire."
Soon enough, the all-too-familiar sound of gunfire echoed through the streets. The bullets landed aimlessly against the building, trying to usher him out, an invitation.
In response, he smashed through the front wall like a fur-covered cannonball. He landed before the men, black fur stained crimson, the lower body of a soldier in his grasp as he bit into it and pulled loose some intestines.
He whipped his mouth and grinned, brain matter and bowels stuck between his teeth. "You called? It would be rude not to answer, wouldn't it?"
The soldiers shuddered in unison. But Roland's jolly mood did not shift. Instead, he turned back, offered his men a wink, and sprinted right at William. "Come on then, it's time for dessert."
William tilted his head, taken aback. But nevertheless, he took his boxing stance. "Very well then. I'll make it painless."
Roland was only a few feet away now. William eyed him warily, his focus unwavering. Then, Roland tossed his coat and planted his feet. William swatted the piece of cloth aside and raised his fist.
A low sound, like distant thunder. Left Roland's revolver, he had used the momentary cover to level the gauss weapon with his foe. William leaned his head to the side, but the relativistic flechette was too fast, too sudden. It scraped away a chunk of his ear.
Roland pressed the assault, duking as William retaliated with a right cross. The wind from the blow could be felt even from where I knelt. Then, Roland sliced into William's side and drew a few drops of crimson blood.
William stumbled forward, then turned to face his foe. But Roland had already aimed his gun and fired two more shots. William slapped the first one aside, at the cost of his index and thumb. The second dug into his cheek and left a long laceration. His molars now exposed to the light of day.
William did not falter. He thrust out his left fist. Roland leaned back; the displaced air whipped his hair back. He returned the attack, his blade singing. William ducked and returned an uppercut. His fist struck the blade and sent it flying upwards.
The excitement in Roland's eyes didn't fade, didn't dim. Instead, his eyes filled with an ice-cold edge like the tip of a scalpel. William started to bring his right fist down, but Roland fired his fourth shot.
The bullet whizzed past the two, William bending back till the base of his skull was parallel with the floor. He straightened back up, his knuckles picking up speed as he readied a returning overhand.
However, Roland's blade had been falling back down. The captain didn't miss it. He wrapped his hand around the hilt, catching it. Then he thrust.
William's fist flew harmlessly overhead; Roland's blade sank deep into the beast's gut. William gagged, blood spilled from his mouth as he leaned against his foe. We didn't blink; the world could have burned down around us and we wouldn't realize.
"Not so tough now, huh?" Roland twisted the blade. A fresh wave of blood left his foe's lips.
"That's all you get, captain." William chuckled.
"Wait." Roland yelped. But William had already dug his fist into the captain's shoulder. The sound of bones being pulverized was like that of dry leaves being trampled. Roland screamed, his face turned pale as he let go of his blade and leapt backward.
William groaned as he ripped the blade from his gut. His bowels followed it, but he simply grabbed the fleshy ropes and stuffed them back in. The hypnotic hold the battle had on us snapped. I readied my broken form. Soldiers raised their guns. Roland turned his head towards us, and we stopped.
The look in his eyes wasn't desperate. No, the captain was happy. His eyes pleaded, begging us not to interfere.
William took his stance again, kicking the blade across the floor, allowing Roland to pick it back up. Roland holstered his revolver and took it.
"It's my birthday. I never celebrated it before; cake is reserved for the nobility. But I am quite happy with this dessert." Roland softly commented.
"Tis sweet indeed, captain." William started bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Now then, let's light those candles—
Before William could finish talking, Roland dove; he landed in a deep lunge and slashed upwards, his sword arched through the air, nearing William's jugular. The beast's mouth snapped shut, and I heard that sound again, like a death knell.
William vanished, appearing behind Roland. His hand opened wide, claws gleaming in the sun. But the captain looked into his blade and caught him in the reflection. William's palm met the point of a cutlass.
William wrenched the blade away, his hand still skewered. Roland let the blade go and pulled his revolver from its holster and leveled it with William's brow. William snapped his jaw shut.
Again, he was behind Roland. But the captain had turned—turned before William's jaw ever closed. He pulled the trigger.
The shot slammed into William's skull; his head snapped back, his hand went up to cup his wound. He roared inaudibly, the ultrasound making the very floor shake. His hand fell away from his face, revealing the depths of his wound. His skull was broken like an eggshell, his right eye bubbled and melted within its socket. His brain leaked from his cratered forehead.
The cylinder spun; Roland started pulling the trigger. Victory was in his hands—
William's hand was straight, fingers pointed like a spear. And now, his hand was through his foe. Roland was frozen, his mouth open in a silent scream that would never arrive. William was elbow-deep in his bowels.
Then Roland grit his teeth; he started angling the gun towards William. His foe's eyes widened in a mix of surprise and solemnity as he clenched his fist and pulled, crushing his spine and disembowelling him.
William let his foe fall, watching him as his breathing slowed and stopped. He looked down at his blood-stained hand, then reached down and started digging. He pulled Roland into the shallow hole and covered it in dirt.
He turned to face us, his wounds already starting to heal. "He was more of a man than any of you."