Chapter 24: She's really cool!

Chapter 24: She's really cool!

Oh, wow, this was actually kind of brutal to watch.

Turns out my little haphazard strategy was working out pretty darn well! The Zealots were coming in hard and falling flat on their faces like dummies, all thanks to the extremely hazardous terrain the Pal-Dian earth mages had whipped up. I felt sorry for the horses, though. Or as much as I can feel sorry for anything, yknow?

The poor beasts were just doing their jobs.

It was much harder to feel any empathy for the idiots riding them, though.

Well, I shouldnt say it like that. If you cant feel something, just fake it, right?

Empathy is easy to mimic if you know the right words to say. My problem has always been trying to guess which ones to use in the correct situation. Example: Someones dad has just died and theyre crying. Never say congratulations!

Thats the wrong answer!

Even though its obvious they should be pleased because theyre about to get their inheritance and never be forced to eat dinner with the deceased on Sundays or Thanksgiving, ever again, they're still required by social norms to put on a public show of grief.

(Being a person is complicated! Axes have it way easier!)

Also dont say My condolences. It just sounds fake. Instead, say Oh, you poor thing. Unless theyre a guy, in which case you say Damn, man. I feel for you.

It took me a lot of trial and error to work that one out.

They are damned! They must be expunged! shouted some nut who managed to get into our defensive parameter. Quite a few of them had, actually. Wow, these guys were so determined!

Was religious fervor really such a powerful motivator? Did these guys believe that dying while literally committing a hate crime was okay because their gods approved of it? I mean, they were basically coming at us like Xenomorphs from the Aliens franchise.

Too bad for them, because that was exactly what Rachel wanted them to do! If these guys had any brains or even a rudimentary instinct for self-preservation, they would not be doing as Rachel wished. Rachel was...well, that is to say...

Hmm. How best to describe someone who was clearly in love with violence itself?

Oh, that was a tough one! It really was! Okay, let me share the impression I'd gotten of her so far.

Now first of all, I dont want to cast any aspersions on Rachels character. Shes clearly a quote, unquote, good person who was risking her life to protect these helpless Peleton users (was that right? I felt like that might not be right).

She was the quintessential Paladin at first glance.

She was beautiful, wore silver armor, and seemed to shine with an innate nobility that had nothing to do with her high station in life and everything to do with her purity of heart. She was charismatic and even pretty funny once you earned her trust. I could also tell from the way the people she was shepherding regarded her, that she was genuinely loved.

In other words, she was an exemplary Knight, right?

Yes. Yes, she was. She really, really was.

Know what else she was?

I leapt into the fray, dishing out spinning back kicks, shuffling thrust kicks, forward thrust kicks, and the nearly impossible but utterly devastating jumping double axe kick! My feet were thunderous cannons of pulverizing force!

How did I know so many ways to kick people, you wonder? Well, I dont mean to brag, but when I was in third grade, I earned a yellow belt with an orange tip in the deadly Korean art of Tang Kwan so. Or something. I learned it in a strip mall from a guy named Teddy with a beer gut and a greasy ponytail.

It was fun, and I would have kept up with it, but Teddy had to move after he lost everything in his divorce, and by then Id learned it was a lot easier to just hit people from behind when they didnt realize I was there, then it was to try kicking them.

So, low ranked though I was, with a body this strong and precise, I may as well have been a grandmaster Jedi compared to these guys! Yaaah! Wooooo! I am the board, and I am hitting you back!

Heh heh heh.

But you know, as fun as it was pummeling these guys to death, it still just wasnt the same. Pugilism wasnt without merit, but if I wasnt slicing people in half, I just wasnt being me. And you should always do your best to be yourself, guys.

Lifes no fun if you cant be yourself!

And with that thought weighing heavily in my heart, thats when I saw him

He was one of the zealots. He was big, he was wearing some armor, he seemed terribly angry, and blah, blah, blah, who cares? The important thing was that he was wielding a comically huge BATTLE AXE. She was gorgeous! She was a silver-enameled blade mounted on an ebon handle, with a skull sculpted in her center.

Ohhhh, baby.

Why do you look so sad? Is it because youre being wielded by some clumsy looking oaf who doesnt know how to swing you? Are you tired of his rough grip? Do you long to be wielded by the soft and nimble fingers of someone who will use you right?

Well, Ive got you, baby. Max has got you.

I walked up to the guy and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around. Im absolutely certain the following conversation went like this:

Walk away, bruh. Im takin your girl, I informed him.

Bitch, you aint takin nothing from me but these nuts, he replied.

Give it up, fool. Shes mine now. I insisted.

Everybody a gangsta, until they get cut."

Ask Shorty, I suggested.

Wut?

I snatched the axe from his grasp and used it to slice his head off in one smooth motion. A geyser of blood fountained from his neck as his body collapsed to the ground.

Axe Shorty what it is, I grimly proclaimed.

What, what?