Book 5: Chapter 84: How to Kill an Immortal

Book 5: Chapter 84: How to Kill an Immortal

“Are you okay?” asked Atticus, his hand resting on the woman’s shoulder. She was clearly frightened, but, when she looked up at him, flames of defiance danced in her eyes.

“Bah – worry about yourself, child,” she spat. “These so-called Immortals won’t break me. Not after everything I’ve been through. Mark my words, they’ll meet a bad end. Meddling with things they don’t understand will get them killed. Or worse.”

Atticus had his money on the second option. The Immortals lived up to their names, and as far as he could tell, they were completely unkillable. They could be disabled, but only for so long before they rose, stronger than before. But what truly worried the Merchant was the clear insanity that came along with every resurrection. Some of them had grown adept at hiding it, but others could not. The latter could be set off by the smallest thing, and Atticus had seen one of them rip a defiant Woodworker’s head clean off.

It was clear that the Immortals wouldn’t maintain their sanity much longer. And when they finally succumbed to complete madness, Atticus and the other captive members of his Consortium wouldn’t last much longer.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

“Look to your own needs. You’re nothing but skin and bones!” she exclaimed. “And don’t go blaming your captivity, either. You were too thin even before all of this. A man ought to have a proper paunch, I always say.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a small smile. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the old woman outlasted them all.

After that, he made the rounds, checking on the other members of his Consortium. The room where they were kept was expansive, large enough to be called a warehouse. Still, with how many of them had been taken captive, along with all of their equipment, space was at a premium. A Cobbler had set up next to a Tailor, and only a few feet away, a Blacksmith toiled over a smokeless forge.

Most were busy, though a few lacked the strength to work nonstop. Hopefully, the leader – known as Al-Abadi, which meant Eternal One in Arabic – would take it easy on them. He’d made it clear that they would be required to meet certain quotas, or there would be dire repercussions. Aside from a spate of the previously mentioned mistakes, none had been executed, but it was only a matter of time before they made some examples.

Atticus desperately wanted his people to survive, so he’d taken it upon himself to ensure that they had everything they needed to meet the grueling standards Al-Abadi had set. Still, the going was tough, and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before the various Tradesmen started to slip.

After a few minutes, he’d met with all fifty crafters in his Consortium. There were a few other Merchants and even an Explorer as well, but Atticus hadn’t seen them since they’d been taken.

Sighing as he considered their fate, he thought back to how they’d been taken. At the time, he’d labored under the impression that everyone in the Trial would maintain the peace within the Nexus. Clearly, he had been mistaken.

Atticus wasn’t certain what had started the battle, but one minute, everything was peaceful – if tense – and the next, there was fighting in the square. That had escalated into a full-blown battle, and at first, the Immortals had been overwhelmed. However, because of their ability to stave off death – getting stronger each time they were brought back from the brink – the advantage had shifted.

When that happened, most of the other combatants had fled. Some retreated into the surrounding wilderness, but others had taken refuge in the many hiding places within the Nexus. Since then, the Immortals had gone to great lengths to root them out – so far unsuccessfully, but it was only a matter of time before that changed. Meanwhile, they’d descended upon the non-combatants, taking them hostage and forcing them to work under threat of death.

“I’m stalling,” he muttered to himself as he stood in the corner. No one was close enough to hear his confession. In truth, he didn’t believe anyone could have blamed him for his hesitation. The last thing he wanted was to confront Al-Abadi – otherwise known as Abdul Nasir – but it was a grim necessity all the same. If Atticus didn’t do it, no one would.

So, he took a few deep breaths to steel himself for the coming confrontation before heading to the room’s exit. There, he found a pair of the newer Immortals. They’d surrendered recently, and as far as Atticus could tell, they were entirely unscarred. That wouldn’t last long, and he knew they would eventually be just as insane as all the rest.

Or worse, they’d end up like the monster.

“I need to see him,” Atticus said.

They knew he’d acted as the liaison between the captured crafters and their captors, so they didn’t object. Instead, one of them led him through the facility – it was far larger than he would have expected from the exterior dimensions – until finally reaching their destination.

When he entered, Al-Abadi was sitting behind a desk and holding a glittering crystal leaf. He blinked, then focused on Atticus. “Ah. To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Ariti? Are the accommodations provided to your crafters to your liking?” the man asked. He was tall, with a sharply groomed beard and black hair. His complexion and accent marked him as being of Middle Eastern descent, and from his demeanor, Atticus judged him to have come from wealth.

“What about the crafters?” asked Ron. “Are they okay?”

Dat nodded, then explained that most of them were still there. In addition, he revealed that the death toll wasn’t nearly as high as they’d originally thought. Perhaps a hundred people had been killed – still a tragedy, to be sure, but not the calamity they’d expected – with almost everyone else fleeing to the surrounding jungle.

“So, what do we do?” asked Elijah. “I can’t fight that...monster.”

He didn’t want to speak her name. Halima. What they’d done to that woman had been cruel, and they all knew it. They hadn’t really hesitated, though. She was the enemy, and they’d thought that feeding her to that beast would end her life. Their role in what she’d been forced to endure – and what it had turned her into – was a difficult pill to swallow.

Elijah didn’t regret it – not exactly. Give half a chance, she would have done worse to them. She’d proved that when she had tried to kill them. Yet, he did feel guilty for what he’d done.

“I might be able to help,” Kurik spoke up. “It ain’t fool-proof, and it won’t do a damn thing if that monster’s as strong as you say. But for the others? I think I can keep them tied up.”

“A new ability?” asked Sadie.

The dwarf nodded. “Gettin’ it set up will take some doin’, though,” he admitted. While Elijah had been engaged with the last challenge, the rest of the group had gained at least a level apiece. Grinding was an effective strategy, and they were well positioned to take advantage of it. Still, something about killing just for the sake of progression struck Elijah as distasteful. “And even if we get it to work, it doesn’t really solve the problem.”

“Because we can’t kill them,” Elijah said.

“We need to destroy the source,” Dat pointed out. “We need to kill their leader.”

“Then it’s settled,” Sadie said, standing. “We set up this trap, immobilize as many Immortals as we can, and then go after the leader.”

“We could just leave,” Oscar said. The chihuahua barked insistently, and he turned to the tiny animal and added, “Stop. I know you want to burn them all, but that can’t be the solution to everything.” The dog barked again, and Elijah got the distinct impression that the chihuahua didn’t agree with Oscar’s assessment. The man sighed, then said, “If we can’t kill these people, then we should just make our way to the Branch. There’s nothing that says we have to stay, and I feel confident that together, we can break through to access it.”

“But what happens when they come back to Earth?” asked Sadie.

“I have friends being held captive,” Elijah added.

“We don’t run from our problems, bro.”

Benedict said, “I agree. I don’t like these Immortals. They seem like bullies to me.”

Ron shrugged. “I just want to get home to my daughter,” he said. “This whole Trial was a mistake. But I’m here now, and I don’t think she’d approve if I left those people to fend for themselves.”

Oscar looked from one to the next, then said, “Fine. I will help.”

“Good,” Elijah said. “Now that that’s settled, what do you need, Kurik? Let’s get this thing going. The sooner we take care of these Immortals, the sooner our friends will be free.”