Chapter 605

Chapter 605

The Demons came screaming out from the night, but Jorani stood ready to receive them.

Not entirely by choice mind you, but considering he was one of only three Warriors present clad in full Runic armour, it made sense he ought to contribute when Lady Yan came calling for volunteers. All the Peak Experts and Hidden protectors had already left to help Hongji, which was where Daxian had gone off to some hours back, but now it was time for Jorani and Ral to lend a hand.

Against Demons.

Which was a pretty good indication of how fucked they were.

If he could go back two weeks, hed slap the shit out of his past self before telling Daxian to shove this Runic armour where the sun dont shine, but when Joranis high-and-mighty half-brother presented him with the priceless gear, he put it on without even thinking. Who wouldnt? The old bastard was out of commission and Daxian said Gang Shu would want Jorani protected, but he didnt need convincing. This was Runic armour they were talking about, a full set which fit perfectly now that hed filled in a little. Noble families had bankrupted themselves paying for one piece of Runic equipment, and Daxian was giving Jorani a full set, so why wouldnt he take it?

Ral got a set too, which was mighty questionable since it wouldve probably fit Yelu Shi just as well, but Jorani wasnt about to fuck things up for his best friend. Of course, they wouldve been better served going to battle in proper Bekkie leathers, since everyone expected a full-on Runic Knight to be a real heavy hitter. Over the past few days, hed basked in the attention and prided himself on the respect and envy so many soldiers sent his way, but now he was paying for his sins. Here he was, first in line out of all the unqualified Martial Warriors holding the last, last line against a massed Demon attack, one which the likes of Hongji, two Exarches, ten Majors, and who knows how many hidden protectors couldnt keep in check.

Jorani only had his greed and attachment to the material to blame, one of the three poisons according to Monk Happy, and for once, he agreed he would be better off without it. Though still adamant hed never geld himself and join the Brotherhood, he had to admit that some of their teachings made good sense. All his life, hed dreamed of being wealthy, and thanks to the bossmans generous red pockets and lucrative War Bonds, that dream had become reality. Problem was, now that he had thousands of gold to his name, Jorani had no earthly idea what to do with any of it. Bed a fancy courtesan? He thought about it, but after looking into the specifics, he decided against it when he learned that most of the coin didnt go to the women, but to their whoremonger boss, which didnt sit right with him. Buy a big house to live in? Even putting aside the fact that he wasnt one to put down roots, his thousands of gold wasnt enough for a manor in the Citadel. Purchase art to show off and appreciate? How ridiculous. The only value in art was selling it to idiots who had more coin than good sense. Swaddle himself in silks and jewellery? Why bother? What purpose did swanky threads and flashy baubles serve? To advertise him as a mark to every cut-purse and mugger within a hundred metres, thats what.

When it came right down to it, the only purpose Jorani had for coin was to fill his belly with good food and good wine, but he didnt need thousands of gold for that. A lesson learned in the futility of greed, as Monk Happy had put it, for wealth and luxury were fleeting and impermanent. More to the point, by accepting the Runic Armour out of greed, Jorani created karma which had now come back to bite him in the ass. Who better to play bait for the Demons than the man wearing Runic Armour? He had the best odds of survival after all...

Despite standing ready with Spiritual Weapon in hand, the attack landed on Joranis chest before he even registered the Demons appearance. One moment he had his feet on solid ground, walking backwards at the rear of the Imperial soldiers from Sinuji, and the next he was staring at the nights sky and wondering why the world had moved so quickly around him. Coming to with a gasp, he sat up and ran his hands over his chest to make sure everything was still in one piece, but despite feeling the cool, unbroken metal beneath his fingers and the rapid-fire pounding in his chest, he wasnt entirely sure he was still alive.

The pain told him yes, he was, because even though his Runic Armour dampened the Demons powerful attack, the impact still managed to bruise his ribs and drive the air out of his lungs. Belatedly producing Panacea to fix his minor injuries, Jorani pushed himself up into a seated position and took in his monstrous foe. The eyes were the first thing he noticed, two dark, ravenous pits of despair, set over-top a formidable set of pearly bared fangs. Lips twisted in unmistakable agony, its sinuous, inhuman tongue writhed about from its open, cavernous mouth, dripping with viscous ooze which hissed and steamed when it hit the grass. Its gnarled head sat atop a bulbous torso covered in pulsing, fluid-filled bulges, a torso which ended abruptly at the waist where a half-dozen armoured, crab-like legs poked out from beneath its prodigious belly. The chitin-covered limbs blurred as it skittered to and fro with harrowing speed, its meaty, flabby arms swinging twin hammer-like pincers instead of hands, pincers which snapped and jabbed at empty air as Mister Rustram danced about the field to distract the beast so Jorani could get up.

Which meant he should probably stop sitting on his ass in a daze, so he embraced the pain and bolted back into the fray. Mister Rustram was too valuable to risk like this, because he was one of the few Warriors around who had Condensed an Aura. They didnt have enough of those for this final last stand, and if enough of those rare individuals were to fall, then the army would be even more helpless before the Demons malignant Aura and not a single one of the fifty-thousand soldiers would make it back to the second line. Circling around to the Demons rear, Jorani charged in as quickly as he could before leaping into the air. With his Spiritual Rope coiled about his fist, he raised his hand to deal a mighty blow at the Demons exposed back, but then its torso turned at what seemed like an impossible angle. A weighty claw clipped him in mid air and sent him flying away once more, but this time he kept his wits about him. Inwardly cursing as he sailed through the air for the second time tonight, he grit his teeth and rolled with the impact, all the while feeling his body groan in protest with each bump. Head over heels he tumbled, once, twice, five times in total, before finally landing shakily on his feet and finding his bearings once more.

Mister Rustram was still dancing with the Demon, and somehow even fighting back, as several of the Demons pustules had burst open to ooze sickly green Ichor down its frame. The injuries did nothing to slow it down as it chased relentlessly after the annoyance, while Pran and Saluk lingered on the outskirts with their massive hammers pointed at the Demon. A fat lot of good those two giants were, which was disappointing since their sheer size and brawn were the sole reasons he stationed himself by them in the first place. With Ral playing bait in his Runic Armour somewhere down the line, Jorani figured the two towering half-bulls would make for decent enough replacements, but they werent even holding their hammers ready to swing. Keeping a few choice phrases to himself, he took a deep breath and readied to charge back in when two thunderous explosions stopped him in his tracks. A good thing too, for the Demon went wild with rage, flailing its arms and snapping its claws in a murderous frenzy of movement. Turning towards the bull brothers, the Demon screeched as its tongue reared up like a spear readying to strike, only to open and reveal a fanged maw within the writhing, fleshy protrusion.

Only then did Jorani see the pulsing craters on the Demons torso, as if two pustules had exploded and taken a fist-sized chunk of flesh with it. Somehow, Pran and Saluk had hurt it, punching through the Demons innate defences and invisible Domain to damage its fatty flesh. While the injury was almost negligible, it was more than nothing, which meant they were Joranis best chance to kill it. Moving to intercept the Demons charge, he arrived just in time to get swept up by the man-crabs claws, his arm and Spiritual Weapon caught fast in the Demons left claw and his head and helmet caught in the right, all while the fanged tongue repeated stabbed out in search of a gap in Joranis armour. Rune-reinforced metal creaked beneath the behemoths powerful, vise-like grip and miraculously held firm, but while he felt minimal physical pressure from the squeezing pincers, his neck strained something fierce as the Demon tried its damnedest to put more distance between Joranis head and shoulders.

Thankful it was too stupid to twist, Jorani fended off the Demons tongue with his free hand and gathered his Chi. Dispatching everything he could spare towards his Spiritual Weapon, he envisioned a layer of sharpened teeth travelling along the outer surface of the rope and biting into the Demons chitinous claws. It was just like shaving through a tree with his Spiritual Rope, except this tree was fighting back by trying to squeeze the life out of him. His efforts counted for nothing as the invisible teeth ground themselves flat against a similarly invisible barrier while his neck muscles strained and tore. Feeling his Chi reserves draining fast, he thought fast and acted without thinking, because if he had, he wouldve tried something else. Grabbing the lancing tongue with his free hand, he redirected it up the Demons right forearm where it bit deep just below the wrist. By some miracle of the Mother, its tongue somehow pierced through its own innate defences and caused it to release Joranis head, giving him a short reprieve from his still-imminent death. Pain shooting through his head and neck, he grabbed the loose end of his Spiritual Rope and slipped a quick noose around the lower part of the Demons left claw, the one still clamped around his arm. Pulling hard to tighten the noose, he Honed his weapon and sawed away for all he was worth.

It was do or die now, so this Rope had best get through...

Again, the Mother smiled on Jorani as his weapon bit deep into the Demons chitinous plates around the wrist, not enough to injure the Demon, but enough to force its claw open. Ichor gushed out of the wound as Jorani fell back to the earth, where he immediately scrambled away out of the Demons path. The only problem was that his weapon was still fastened around the Demons claw, which meant Jorani had a choice to make: abandon his weapon and pray he got away, or keep fighting and maybe somehow kill a Demon.

The choice was simple. The Spiritual Rope billowed out as Jorani slipped his arm out from the bundled coil, but his foe was already upon him. Hammering him aside with a powerful right, Joranis world shook as he bounced off the dirt at speeds no human should ever experience. That was the downside to Runic armour, because no matter how durable it might be, its greatest flaw was the squishy human inside. Internally bleeding and more than a little concussed, he returned to his senses all too quickly and hated everything about this experience, with waves of crippling pain emanating from what felt like every single part of his body. A broken shoulder was the first injury he identified, solely due to the debilitating agony which shot through his very being as large hands pulled him from the dirt.

Hold tight, yes? came the rumbling question, and it repeated itself before Jorani realized it was directed at him. Noting he was being cradled in Prans arms, he used his good hand to grab the burly half-bulls forearm, only for Pran to shake his head. Not to Pran, he said, using his chin to point at Joranis crippled arm. To rope.

Apparently, Jorani hadnt divested himself of his weapon quickly enough, because the tail end was still resting in his hand. By the Mother it hurt to close his fingers around it, but once it was done, he felt oddly comforted, like a child hiding under a blanket. Nothing had changed, but he felt safer, which was better than nothing right? Nodding at Pran to indicate hed done as instructed, Jorani opened his mouth to ask why, but the half-bull cut him off while looping the Spiritual Rope a few times around Joranis wrist. Hold tight, very tight. Do not let go, okay?

Without waiting for a reply, Pran planted Joranis feet on the ground and wrapped both arms around him, eliciting a shrill, unmanly noise some might call a scream. This was not solely due to the pain, as immeasurable as it might be, for in a moment of crystalline clarity, Jorani knew what the half-bull had planned, and he knew true despair.

Running backwards with more speed than Jorani thought possible, Pran dragged him kicking and screaming away from the man-crab currently locked in combat with Mister Rustram. Not the worst idea in the world so far, but there was more to it, for Joranis Spiritual Rope was still tied to the Demons left claw. The rope grew taut and the world turned white as agony lanced through his arm and brain, and he almost passed out. Blinking the spots out of his eyes, he endured the pain in hopes of seeing the Demon laid out flat on its back, but alas, it stood firm with claw raised and legs braced against Joranis taut rope, holding Pran in place while fending off Mister Rustrams rapier.

Im coming brother! Saluk shouted, barrelling towards Jorani with head lowered and arms outstretched. Brace yourself!

The half-bull tackled Jorani before he could scream, Stop!, and the impact introduced him to new heights of previously undiscovered agony. When he came to his senses again, he found himself pressed between two burly half-bulls with the Demon straining to resist their combined efforts, but Jorani was fairly certain his arm would give out long before Pran, Saluk, or the Demon grew tired. He was actually kind of hoping it would, because shortly after his shoulder separated from the socket, he ran out of breath to scream with and couldnt bring himself to draw another. In fact, he could barely even keep conscious, though why he struggled against sweet oblivion, he couldnt say. Besides, this was the dumbest plan hed ever seen, because all the Demon had to do was ignore Mister Rustram and come after them.

For more than a decade, Big-Eyed Kang led the Sharktooth Syndicate and Siyar played his part, even rising to the rank of nominal third in the gang thanks to his skills in the field. People feared him then, respected him even, and he took more than his fair cut in the profits, but despite all that, he never cared much for his fellow bandits. Big-Eyes death was an unfortunate accident, and the same with Light-Fingered Yu, because even though he grew up with those cutthroats and killers, he never counted them among his friends. Things were different now, because the bossman treated Siyar differently, not only trusting him with a Spiritual Weapon, but also inviting him to his weddings to hoist a drink or three. Silva, Birca, and Viyan werent a bad sort either, and Jinoe and Ronga were idiots, but they meant well most of the time. Even Ravil wasnt so bad once Siyar was fairly certain the dark-skinned bastard wasnt going to gut him in his sleep, but Bulat was still an insufferable twat. Jorani was somewhat bearable now that he stopped bragging all the time, though these days, he was prone to rants about religion and philosophy, and while Ral was an idiot, there was something about him which made it impossible to hate him.

Then there was Kimi, who shared his bed more nights than not, even when they were both too sober and tired to do anything about it. They just laid there together in silence, and damn him if he didnt come to cherish those moments more than anything else, so he had to fight on for her, to keep her safe as she marched with the other tens of thousands of soldiers too weak to do anything against Demons. Siyar had come a long way from his bandit days, and he was a smuggler no more. He was a soldier of the Empire, but more importantly, he was Falling Rains subordinate, and that meant something, so he was in this to the bitter end.

Even though the smart money was on running.

As if to prove him right, a scream rose up in the distance, and several seconds passed before word arrived. Xue Biquin and Jin ZhiLan are dead, the breathless runner reported, his fear making him speak louder than he should while reporting to Lady Yan. Their Demon is loose and headed straight for the troops.

Im on it, Siyar said, the words coming out before he thought better of it, and then his feet were moving away. His quin was waiting nearby, and he hopped on and rode towards the screams against his better judgment. Lot of that going on tonight, but to his surprise, he found Ravil, Silva, Birca, and Viyan right there with him, riding even faster than he was and flashing taunting smiles as if to say, What? You afraid to die?.

Siyar was, but hed be damned if hed admit it.

Go in hard and fast, Ravil said, grinning like a madman while reloading his weapon. Weve got your back. I just hope this aint another weird one, like that shitty plant thing. Takes all the fun out of shooting when they dont bleed.

That put a smile on Siyars face, if only because hed had the same thought earlier, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. The soldiers were scattering from before the Demon, a right spindly skeletal creature with bones of translucent crystal and skin which hung over them like loose cloth. There it stood in the midst of frozen soldiers, slaughtering the helpless warriors with aid from its Demonic Aura, but as they approached, Siyar unleashed his own Aura to counteract it. Big Eye was right, but he never mentioned how the weight was so oppressive it felt like Siyar couldnt breathe, but he pushed through and charged the Demon with blade drawn. Behind him, Ravil hissed, I knew it, ye sneaking bastard, and Siyar belatedly remembered hed been hiding his strength since before hed joined up, as not even Big-Eyed Kang knew he had an Aura. Well, too late for regrets now, but it warmed his heart to know Ravil and the others had come along on a hunch, especially since theyd all be dead if their hunch had been wrong. That was a lot of trust to put into a man like Siyar, and he never thought it would mean so much to him.

Rather than thank them, he growled, What are ye waitin for? A written invitation? Shoot the bastard!

Five shots rang out and struck the Demon head on as it turned towards this new threat. Ravils and Siyars shots smacked it clean in the face, leaving twin gashes along its forehead and cheek. The rest thudded solidly against the things torso and rang out with an almost pleasant, melodic chime. Opening its mouth in challenge, a high-pitched shriek emanated from its throat and set Siyars skin to crawling and ears to ringing, but he ignored the pain and leapt from his mount to do battle with the crystalline bastard. Dodging beneath a wide swing, he circled around and scored three clean hits, his instincts taking over as he gutted the Demon, stabbed its liver, and directed a killing thrust to its spine. Or he would have, if it had those organs and his sword could cut through its hard, translucent flesh, but it was the thought that counted, right?

The Demons attention was wholly on Siyar as they fought in close quarters, cognizant that he was the only Warrior with an Aura and that without him, everyone else was helpless. The Aura was so oppressive, like nothing Siyar had felt before, trapping him in an unseen and unfelt blanket of fear and despair, hinting at what would come to pass if his courage should falter, but he had faced far worse with far less. It was like being back in the smugglers tunnels in Sanshu, with barely enough room for a skinny, eight year old boy to slip through in complete and utter darkness. The dirt couldve collapsed atop him at any moment, or he might get snagged onto a rock and stuck to starve to death, but he never gave up then, and he wouldnt give up now.

Hold the line. That was his purpose here, and Siyar would see this through to the end.

While he fought, Ravil bellowed orders at the surrounding soldiers to make themselves scarce, and they hot-footed out of the area with such speed it made Siyar question why the hell he was doing this to begin with. Certainly not for glory, since that was worth less than shit, and definitely not to save lives, since he would rather eat shit than be a Hero of the Empire. All his life, hed kept his head down and made the most with what the Mother gave him, but he supposed now it was time to pay his debts. Better soldiers than Siyar had died beneath his blade, so it was only fair he take up their cause now, when the whole world was going to shit and they needed every blade they could spare.

This Demon was neither fast, nor strong, and Siyar had a remarkably easy time against it, and the most annoying thing was its incessant, high pitched whine. After a minute, the whine went away without warning, and Siyar finally thought he could do this. Even one Demon Slayer was enough to make a difference, especially if they could all hold out long enough for the Slayer to get here, but then the world rolled around Siyar and he found himself stumbling like a drunk on New Years.

His ears werent working, and he couldnt tell up from down or left from right. This happened sometimes, when people fell into one of the Lakes and were fortunate enough to survive, and Siyar finally figured out why the high pitched whine went away. As the blood dribbled out his ears and down his cheeks, he found his bearings and faced the Demon with blade in hand. Its lifeless face broke into a smile as it reached for Siyars helpless frame, and all he could do was watch deaths slow approach.

Hopefully, Kimi would find a good man to keep her company, or a better man than Siyar at least. That wasnt asking for much, was it, Mum?

So close he could see his reflection in the Demons glossy skin, Siyar took solace in the fact that even at the end, he kept his cool. There was no fear in his eyes, only resignation, and the determination to take his foe with him.

The Demons hand closed about his face as Siyar put everything he had into his swing. He barely even had to aim as his sword sliced across its neck, the target ingrained into his body from tens of thousands of repetitions. He was the sword, and the sword was he, and Siyar would cut this Demons throat even if it was the last thing he did.

Pain erupted across his face, neck, and chest, more pain than hed ever felt before. For long seconds, he waited for the pain to subside and cold nothingness to come claim him, but his torment would not end. Grasping hands grabbed him and pulled him away, while more hands pressed against his tender skin, but Siyar held in his screams to deny his foe the satisfaction. Something cold splashed against him, compounding his agony even further, but it also jolted him back to his senses. Opening his eyes, he found Ravil and the others all leaning over him with empty water-skins and mixed looks of awe and amusement. Ravil moved his mouth, speaking words Siyar couldnt hear, but hed learned to read lips a lifetime ago. Fuck me, the murderous bastard was saying, Never ever seen a man get covered head to toe in Ichor and not utter a peep. Even the bossman screams a bit and groans about it for weeks after, but you? Youre a stone-cold killer to the core.

Did I kill it? Siyar asked, more surprised than anyone that he was still alive.

No need to shout, Ravil answered, gesturing off to the side. Ye didnt kill it, but ye carved it real good, which ought to count as an assist, at least. Best thank the great hero there for saving yer hide though, before he runs off to slaughter some more Demons.

Turning just in time to catch the Demons death throes, Siyar chuckled beneath his breath as the Warrior flourished his twin curved sabres and turned to face him, dressed head to toe in silver and white silk as if attending a banquet rather than striding across the battlefield. No offence to the bossman or anything, but this was what a proper hero of the Empire was supposed to look like, now a man whod finally crossed over into greatness judging by the ease with which he dispatched his foe. Warrant Officer Jia Zian, Siyar called, not sure if he was shouting again. Appreciate the save. Head west for more of the Demon bastards to kill.

No need to fret anymore. Reinforcements were here, led by none other than the Twinned Dragon Scion, Lu Jia Zian, a Talent second only to Falling Rain. His presence meant the tides had turned against the Enemy, and so with that, Siyar finally relaxed and let the sweet relief of nothingness finally claim him.

Chapter Meme