Book 7: Chapter 10: Timing is Everything

Book 7: Chapter 10: Timing is Everything

Victor hefted the handle of the giant axe, grinning at the way he had to strain just to lift it onto his shoulder. The massive axe head was still resting on the ground behind him. He figured if the axe were made of steel, it would weigh a couple thousand pounds. The blade stood up from the ground more than a yard, and the spike on the backside was buried in the soft soil another foot, sunk there by gravity when Victor summoned it from his ring. The fact of the matter, though, was that the axe wasnt made of steel. It wasnt iron. It was some alloy or magical metal that neither he nor any of the men and women of the ninth could identify. It was far heavier and denser than an iron-based alloy, but it wasnt soft like lead or goldtheyd ruined hammers trying to test the edge.

Without his Iron Berserk, Victor could lift the axe and swing it, but it was unwieldy, and the momentum of the great weapon would throw him off balance. No, hed found that to use it effectively, he needed the size his Berserk granted him and the strength from his Titanic Rage feat. He twisted his hands on the metal axe haft, grinning at how his fingers could barely wrap around the dark metal. He wondered what the silly bastards up on the wall were thinking. Did they think he was insane? Did they wonder how hed swing such a massive implement? He was having a good time keeping them wondering.

When hed released his Alter Self spell, hed done it as he fell away from the crowds, far beneath them. His hope was that they wouldnt be able to discern the fact that hed suddenly grown. No other people were on the field, and the axe was enormous, so he figured they thought he was still the same size hed been. He loved the idea of pounding those tanks into scrap without revealing his full titanic form. He loved it so much that he was going to try to fight them without berserking, just to see if he could pull it off. Yep, chica, he said, looking at his shoulder where Lifedrinkers haft jutted up, Ill just start off slow. Its better I dont get too pissed off, anyway, right? Wouldnt want me to lose my shit and smash through that wall. He chuckled, shaking his head, starting to daydream, but then he realized they were probably waiting for him to signal that he was ready.

Victor smiled and muttered, Timing is everything, then lifted his right arm in the air, waving it back and forth. Almost immediately, an answering boom sounded from the far corner of the wall, and a sparkling red flare flew into the air, arcing over the field. Victor had good reflexes when it came to starting a contest. From the ancient-seeming days when hed been a wrestler and waited for the whistle or beep to the death battles in the pits, arenas, and colosseums, hed always been quick to jump into combat. This was no different, and he literally leaped into action. He squatted, flexed his powerful thighs, and, gripping the massive axe like he was trying to uproot a streetlamp, he launched into the air toward the centermost tank on the field's eastern edge.

The axe ripped a massive divot out of the ground, trailing dirt and grass as he flew through the air with it hanging behind his shoulder. Soaring through the air, he began to bunch the wire-taut muscles of his shoulders and arms, getting ready to swing the tremendous weapon over his shoulder as he descended. Of course, he was channeling Sovereign Will into his strength and vitality. Of course, hed pulled that hot, familiar rage-attuned Energy from his Core and into his pathways, casting Channel Spirit to fill his arms and the massive axe with its furious heat. Considering the axes black metal and the trail of dirt, it was hard to see, but if one were discerning, they might catch the hint of a faint red halo limning the weapon.

As he reached the apex of his leap, some thirty yards in the air, and began to descend, Victor saw the automated, Energy-driven tanks had reacted to the signal, or perhaps some remote operator had. He didnt know how smart the things were on their own. Regardless, theyd all rumbled to life, their treads glowing with yellow Energy, their turrets turning to try to track him, but only a few had enough vertical mobility. Victor had no idea what they might fire out of their many differently-shaped barrels, but he didnt find out right away; hed gotten the jump on themVictor laughed at the punand before they could react enough to stop him, he fell like a flesh and metal comet on his chosen victim. With a roar loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the many machines, he jerked his gigantic axe over his head. His feet hit the turf with a muffled boom, and he smashed the weapon down on the tank.

Karls axe, focusing thousands of pounds of metal on a wedge-shaped cutting edge, split through the shiny tank like a hatchet hitting an aluminum can. Victor had placed his blow on the front quarter of the machine, just in front of the turret, and the axe tore through the armor, the metal gears, and whatever else was inside, all the way down into the ground. In a spectacular shower of rainbow-hued sparks and flames, the machine began to come apart at the seams. Victor would have loved to watch the show, to see the various liquids spurting forth, to listen to the pop of magical crystals and fuses, but he knew better than to stand around when nineteen other enemies were targeting him.

As the concussive sounds of cannons being fired echoed around him, Victor jerked on the enormous axe and started running toward the machine to his left. The shots werent aimed at where he currently was, thankfully, because the axe didnt want to come free. Victors momentum was brought to a screeching halt as the blade caught up in the smoldering, smoking metal of the ruined tank, and, despite the vast disparity in their relative mass, Victor began to drag the vehicle through the grass. He only made it a few feet before it became too much for him, the treads buried a foot into the soft soil. Still, as it bit into the ground, the axe jerked free, and Victor veritably flew through the grass toward the next tank as it set its sights on him.

#

Jesus Christ! someone off to her right exclaimed, confirming, if Valla had doubted the fact, that these people came from Victors home world. The outburst had come when Victor launched himself into the air and smashed one of the machines before any of the automatons could react. She couldnt help her small smile and slight nod, approving of Victors showmanship. He was holding a lot back, but it was probably wise; Borrius thought these humans had something in reserve, and she agreed.

She watched Victor struggle to pull his axe out of the wreckage of the first machine, saw him actually pull the massive vehicle a short way through the grass, and then sprint toward the next one as the axe broke free. All the while, colorful explosions were bursting in the air as the other war machines fired, belatedly, at the places Victor had been as he soared toward the first broken construct. Quite a spectacle, Issa said beside her. Reminds me of a harvest celebration back home.

That axe, Darren Whitehorse said from the other side of her, it must weigh thousands of pounds to do that to our tank. How does he move with it like that? He sounded genuinely incredulous. Hadnt he seen the magic people could work in this world? Hadnt he listened to Victors cousin? Was he so dense?

Before she could respond, Issa did, I suppose hes put much of his Energy cultivation into improving his physical attributes.

#

Hah, what a pendejo I am! Victor laughed, sharing his amusement with Lifedrinker. I should know these things might explode. Before he could say anything more, he heard the deep booms of the tanks firing at him, and he instinctively jumped into the air. He tried to angle his reflexive leap toward his fallen axe, but he wasnt facing quite the right way, and he couldnt turn once he was airborne. Still, he cleared the area in time to avoid getting pelted with whatever projectiles those things were firing, and when he landed, he turned and sprinted for the gigantic weapon.

He was a little battered, his arms cut and scraped, his face and neck raw from the explosion. His entire body was a little sore; when hed crashed into the ground, it hadnt felt great. Still, his armor and helmet kept the brunt of the explosion from really affecting him. His feats and affinities made him almost immune to fire. If I couldnt berserk, Id feel like hell tomorrow. Victor smiled grimly as he grabbed ahold of the tree-like axe handle. When he pulled on it, he realized the blade had buried itself a good six feet into the soft ground. Jerking and tugging, he grew a little annoyed. His shoulder was sore, and he knew those cannons were retargeting him. As they firedthum, thum, thum, thumhis frustration got the better of him, and he released his tight control on his Core and let his rage flow into his pathways. Without a second thought, he cast Iron Berserk.

#

Hes gotten himself in a pickle now. That axe is too much for him in his battered state! Darren Whitehorse smiled at Felicity, his aide and one of the best engineering experts in the colony. She nodded to him, habitually pressing at the space on the bridge of her nose where her glasses used to be; she no longer needed them, but her brain hadnt caught up to the fact.

Hell have to abandon it, or theyll fire upon him there. She leaned close, looking left and right, perhaps trying to time the rudimentary intelligence shed helped program into the tanks. Right about now . . .

The long-range-cannon-equipped tanks interrupted her with their boomsthum, thum, thum, thum. Darren watched the big man, still struggling with the axe. It was hard to see his expression at this distance, but he imagined he was frustrated and exhausted. Undoubtedly, that explosion had hurt. He had to be exhausted, ready to quit. Perhaps that was why he didnt jump again, why he didnt flee. Was he really too tired? Was this the end? Darren wouldnt relish seeing the haughty, beautiful woman beside him in mourning, but he also wouldnt mind taking her down a notch. What would Issa say? Would she finally bend a little, admitting that what they brought from Earth, their technical know-how, made them worth listening to?

With those thoughts racing through his mind, Darren clenched his hands into fists of nervous anticipation and watched as the big man disappeared in a cloud of colorful smoke, turned-up soil, and fiery gasses. The four long-barreled tanks had struck direct hits, and already, the others were firingmortars, fire canisters, and short-range cluster munitions. Yes! Felicity hissed, clapping her small hands together. Direct hits!

Darren was watching as she spoke, and sure enough, the smoky ground zero of the first shots suddenly erupted with fire and more smoke as the dozen other tanks landed their hits. Ouch! Again, my apologies, Lady . . . Valla. I do wish youd have surrendered for him.

She didnt respond, but when Darren looked at her, he saw for the first time that shed pressed her lips into a firm, flat line. She was worried. His heart began to race at the idea. Had they just killed him? The hero of the Free Marches as that fool, Alec Green, had been billing him? Had Darren really just orchestrated his death? The idea was both terrifying and thrilling. Hed truly advanced his agenda with this display. Who would stand against him? This demonstration would certainly sway the voters, and the next election would be a landslide . . .

Like something out of a monster movie, a roar ripped through the smoke and dust, echoing over the field and up the wall. It shook the very mortar in the stone crenelations, and Darren found his knees buckling as they started to tremble involuntarily. What the . . . he managed to say through lips suddenly dry, with a tongue that felt like it had been salt-cured. But then the roar sounded again, and this time, it ended in a mad, bedeviled laugh that threatened to loosen his bowels. Something fell on him with that sound. Something like a blanket of pure, oppressive dread. He had to clutch at the crenelation to keep from falling, and he realized he wasnt alone. Many people on the wall had fainted or fallen, pressed down by that palpable field of hatred, fury, and fear.

What . . . Felicity tried to say, her voice trembling and thready. What is . . . she had to stop and lick her lips, also hugging the smooth, lime-washed wall to keep from collapsing.

Thats Victors aura, the tall, angelic warrior-woman said, her voice perfectly steady. He must have summoned his banner. Youll see it after that smoke clears. Judging by that mad laughter, I'm afraid that hes likely gone berserk, too. I dont think any of your machines will be salvageable.