R. R. Quan
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Chapter 59 - A Bit Drastic
🕑 Added 2022-01-08 02:00:18 +0000 UTCBrock zipped back, dodging a clawed strike aimed at disembowelling him and ending the fight prematurely. Onlookers watched the situation unfold with a cruel concoction of barely restrained fear and confusion. Snorting, he grabbed the Skin Walker by its thin wrist during the follow-up attack and yanked hard, his movements aided by his Augment of Skies.
A sickening tear echoed outward, and the trapped residents of the town recoiled in horror, gagging as the spindly limb was ripped from the socket and thrown aside, bringing with it a projectile stream of the monster’s crimson blood. Enraged, it roared loudly, only to have a foot cave in its chest the next second, silencing it down to a raspy whimper.
The beast shot backward and skipped along the old cement flooring of the chapel, shattering rotted pews as it rolled over and over, before finally smacking messily into the first step of the altar. A woman hiding close to it screamed out in dread as the monster’s brown eyes locked onto her own, and with a tongue lolling out the side of its toothy maw, it reached toward her.
That appendage too was rendered useless as a knife blasted through the air and pierced straight through the elbow, its burning radiance melting the bone and tissue and forcing the limb to slop to the ground in a spray of sizzling gore. With a jerk from the blade’s user, the wire attached to it retracted and returned the weapon to the safety of his bloodied leather sleeve.
Brock stalked through the sacred place of religion as the Skin Walker snarled, its eyes never leaving the woman that was its target. Abruptly, it followed up its earlier attempts and lunged at the woman as she tried her best to guard her crying son.
“Ethereal Shackles.”
The shadow of the beast twisted and bulged as a singular dark chain shot out, wrapping around the torso of the monster akin to a tentacle. Then another did. And another. And another. Until the entire remaining upper body of the creature was populated by corrosive chains that ate at the pale flesh beneath.
A sensation of oppression settled over the area as Brock held his hand out to the offending monster, his finger slowly tightening into a fist. He seemed to overcome some sort of threshold after an intense second of struggle, and the chains snapped through the creature and into the earth, returning both the shadow and the atmosphere back to normalcy.
Sliced chunks of bubbling meat were left in its wake. Sluggishly, they began to melt down.
“And that’s a wrap.” Brock resisted the wave of nausea as his just barely recovered aura once again dropped to dangerous levels and he clicked his fingers merrily.
Diligently, albeit with what he knew was much effort, Fon had managed to herd the entire remaining population of the unnamed town into the chapel, the only place that was yet to sustain much degradation, for whatever reason one chose to believe. The bread as bait had certainly helped.
Particularly, people seemed amicable to the idea of being under the roof of the chapel, many probably having turned to whatever solace they could find in tough times. Brock himself didn’t believe, but he thought it was great others had found religion. Despite that, he only counted just over a few hundred people left in the room, and it wasn’t because some were missing.
This was really just everyone that was left.
If at first the crowd had had a negative reaction when Brock had appeared before them, then after he ousted over twelve Skin Walkers their reaction had become something beyond that. He could easily tell that they had no idea whether the bigger monster was the creatures that had secretly imitated their friends and families or the man that had brutally slaughtered them all.
He had to admit, despite having saved the town, he did not at all feel good about it. The whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth. The horrified cries of men, women, and children as he took their replaced relatives and killed the beasts that were masquerading as them still echoed in his mind.
Idly he looked over, watching as Fon struggled to keep the masses from running for their lives. Already, they were rendered terrified and untrusting by a sudden revelation to the sheer amount of people that were no longer themselves. Brock had thought to make a joke relating to the Snickers ads, but rightly decided it was nigh the time.
Fortunately, he was certain that last one was the final monster among them. He still spread out his aura one last time, however, much to the fear of the crowds, and scanned for any remaining imposters. Satisfied when he found none, he nodded to Fon. The woman received his seal of approval and began to effortlessly explain the situation and how he had worked to save them. She seemed rather uncomfortable to be the centre of their attention, but Brock copped the worst of it all.
He found the ‘he was the one who saved you’ nature of the speech incredibly cringeworthy and was especially and noticeably more uncomfortable afterwards when wary yet grateful residents approached him and thanked him for what he did. Nonetheless, it was a good little bit of insight into Fon’s capabilities. In terms of public speaking, she was quite good at what she did.
It was safe for him to say he and Harry were not good at that. Like at all.
Just the fact alone that the people were scared of Brock despite him openly saving them was evidence enough that he was not a people person. The French girl would make a fine addition to their original team of two. It’d at least mean Brock wouldn’t have to deal with people when he didn’t want to anymore, and that was enough for him to be satisfied.
At his beckon, Harry stepped out of the way of the only exit and the shaken populace streamed out, lamenting on today’s loss of their folks. It was a sorrowful sight, but ultimately, unless he had a way to turn back time or resurrect the dead, there was nothing the office worker could do to help other than what he had already done.
He didn’t even bother to assist the masses in their mad dash to freedom, as he knew it would only make said dash yet madder, and he opted to stay back, instead settling down on a pew and hearing it groan ominously beneath his weight.
Well, that’s not a good sign.
From the continued sighting of Skin Walkers, Brock had noticed a simple fact that he found oddly troubling; each and every one looked perfectly identical. The same brown eyes and hair, gaunt frame and lanky limbs. Even the scent of the beast was the same, though strangely enough, it was the sweet smell of flowers. Quite the contrast from the horror it wafted off from, Brock believed.
He was yet to realise the resemblance he saw, and from a prior conversation with Fon, Brock had been made privy to the knowledge that she thought them to be ‘unnatural’ beasts. At least compared to what was normally seen.
He was inclined to agree. Even the normal monsters of the same species had some variation in them, whether it be a slightly differed frame or fur pattern. Skin Walkers had no such differences.
It was eerie, in a way.
After all was said and done, Brock noticed Fon approaching him with the same wariness that he had seen in the residents of the surrounding ruins, and he turned to face her. The woman clearly fiddled behind her back for a few seconds, before she adopted a façade of false confidence, “That was a bit… drastic, wasn’t it?”
Brock raised a brow and deliberated with a gentle tone, “drastic how?”
“Drastic how?” Fon deadpanned, gesturing toward a metal candle covered in sloughing goop and a melting corpse torn in two a little further away, “You literally smashed a candle through the eyehole of one of those things and tore another in half. ‘Drastic how’, yeah right.”
A silence brewed between them afterwards and just as he saw Fon begin to squirm anxiously, Brock chuckled, breaking the quiet. A small smile slithered across the woman’s features, and she snorted humorously.
Brock huffed, “It was an accident.”
“Right…” Fon narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.
Brock narrowed his own eyes and snorted. Deciding to leave behind the stuffy atmosphere of the chapel before it was filled humid with evaporating Skin Walker juices, he waved goodbye to Fon and exited the place, taking in the fresh air of the outside. Well, the pseudo-fresh air.
Harry saddled up beside him as he crested the doorway and nudged him in the side playfully. Brock stumbled to the side at the inherent Strength the boy possessed and was left severely disappointed when he returned the action and didn’t get even a reaction. He really was lacking in his Strength a bit, huh?
Each Skin Walker had been riding around level 35, and he had at least gained a level for his gory troubles. Tensing his biceps experimentally, Brock opened the Status menu and dumped the entirety of his 6 free stats into Strength. The value rose, but the minuscule amount left him with a deep feeling of dissatisfaction. He grumbled.
The teenager nudged him back far stronger this time, and as Brock recovered from a long-winded and desperate stumble, he began to speak, “She’s right, dude. It was a bit drastic, with all the blood and gore and stuff.”
Brock sighed once more, giving his friend a sidelong glance. He had been somewhat reserved since they had gotten here, “I know you’re afraid I’ll become some sort of mass murderer or some shit, but it’s fine mate. There are three reasons to fight in this world; to hurt, to defend, or to have fun. There is no reason I can’t fight for both of the last two.”
Harry stewed on his words a bit, before nodding slowly. Brock shot him a wry smile; that really was how he saw combat. In the beginning, he would only indulge in the process to defend his own life, or to achieve his goal of finding the Source, although that too was in defence of his life anyway. Over time, however, he had come to enjoy the adrenaline rush and furious movement of battle.
Call him strange, or bloodthirsty, or just plain old insane. He didn’t care. A person bought a chicken nugget in the shape of an ‘among us’ character for several thousand dollars, so why couldn’t he like to fight?
People were already returning to their previous hovels, avid checking their stores of food and supplies and settling back down. A few scuffles had broken out between the previous residents of the better off buildings and those that had arrived there first after the Skin Walker slaughter, though Brock felt no need to intervene. The same shit would happen long after he left the place anyway.
Speaking of leaving, he had already done a thorough check of their own supplies, including fuel, and it seemed they had taken more than enough of the stuff. Brock didn’t know exactly which direction he should travel to locate his family, although he knew he’d find them all eventually if he explored the ‘mainland’ long enough.
The jeep would be the obvious vehicle that would facilitate their travel, and by his calculations, he had enough fuel stored away to last him several days of prolonged driving. So, he may as well get behind the wheel and see where it takes him. If need be, he could run almost as fast as most cars anyway.
Though that would require him to leave Harry and most probably Fon behind, and he wouldn’t do that.
As the day continued onward and both he and Harry took the back seat while Fon smoothed over some of the remaining issues in the town, Brock caught the trail of another Skin Walker as it wandered into town under the guise of a teenager, maybe 15 or 16. The beast had tried to flee instantly upon realising he could see past its disguise.
A little slashing later, and the monster was lying in pieces on the pavement, beginning to goop itself. Grimly, it had been all he had needed to realise the terrible truth that the Skin Walker issue will never truly be solved, only delayed. He doubted that if he returned to this town a month later it would still be run by humans, if populated by them at all.
He had no idea how to solve the problem and took no amount of discomfort in that. Ultimately, he would either find something out or he wouldn’t. Others would eventually. The end result of every problem in the world didn’t have to depend on him, though it had really been seeming like they did recently.
They spent one more night there, taking refuge in the deserted cottage on the town’s outskirts, unused due to fear of isolation and being easy pickings, and together they enjoyed a night of cool breezes and distant animal calls. It was nothing all three weren’t used to by now, however, and sleep came easy.
Morning was a swift affair, many people turning up to say goodbye, more to Fon than the boys themselves. It had taken a bit of an awkward turn when she requested to visit her comatose friends. Even four days after the fight, they were still out cold, and Brock was starting to worry he’d done some serious damage.
She and her group were a bit like celebrities in the place, not on their account of premeditated murder but on the account of their generous sharing of excesses resources. Brock could begrudge those people that. At least they still had some remnants of a soul leftover for those in need.
All three were stationed under the half-roof of the town’s central building, something of a town hall, he assumed. Each were lying limp in their own beds, ones discoloured by time and their own leaking bloods of different hues. Their eyes didn’t so much as flutter as Fon walked up to them and said her goodbyes.
For the most part, it seemed the wounds Brock had inflicted were healing well, the puncture wounds still grisly but having stopped bleeding and instead scabbed up. The broken leg was a tad bit worse off, with pieces of splintered bone poking out of the skin, although it seemed they were slowly getting pushed out so it could heal properly.
All in all, they’d probably be fine if they were given a few more days. A week tops. It seemed Fon didn’t really wanna stay around for that though. She didn’t have many belongings, only a simple bow, a sleeping bag and a few cans of beans. Brock offered to store them away, but she declined, opting to just stick them in the boot of the car.
It only took about an hour before all matters were in order, and then they were on the road of the wilderness, the unnamed town’s crumbled figure rapidly fading into the distance. As the vehicle roared through the wilds, Brock wondered what horrors awaited them in the world ahead.
