Apocalypse Redux - Chapter 266: Interlude Cult

Josef had nothing to say now. Nothing to do but slump against the back of his seat, both his body in the real world and his representation in their group’s chamber. His insides still throbbed from where shrapnel had torn through him, nothing to say for the fact that the bones in his left leg were still in multiple pieces. And he had more than a few other wounds that were still healing.

Not to mention that he’d bled all over that teleportation room. Nowadays, the cops could literally reconstruct your face based on nothing but your DNA, though knowing about such things as your current Cholesterol, hormones in the blood, and the like did help them figure out in which direction your DNA had helped you grow. Once they had his face, they’d get his name and then he’d be stuck running from safe house to safe house for the rest of this planet’s lifespan.

Not only that, but their numbers had taken a serious hit. Two horsemen aspirants, Kronos, Surtr, and Utgardloki. The aspirants had been replaced already, but each newcomer lacked battle experience with their new potential and their [Skills] were at Level 1, without the big power boosts from hitting thresholds. The council had lost several members who’d been on it since the very beginning.

And then there was the issue of their overall numbers. They’d gained most of their members from the initial divine message, as “we’re ending the world, join us, but only the initial members will reap any benefits” made for a pretty shit recruiting message. They’d still gained some new blood, but all in all, there were around 700 true believers left, very few of them being what the outside world called “S-Rank”, and another 20,000 who were just in it for the money.

Not even 21,000 against the world.

“So, we got some information on our enemies,” Fox announced as he stood up, still sounding rattled. He’d come face-to-face with the Monkey King and barely gotten out of there alive. In fact, the only reason he was still here was that the same wave of information that had gotten their colleagues killed had distracted the damnable primate long enough for him to get away.

A hologram-esque image manifested above the table, showing a face they all knew and hated.

“Isaac Thoma has been confirmed to be immune to all kinds of flames, and capable of utilizing any flame he comes into contact with. He’s already stolen Surtr’s flames so this is probably a case of closing the barn after the horses have already escaped, but we still shouldn’t give him any more munitions. Hyperion, stay the hell away from him.”

“I’m a light mage,” The warned man rumbled, a mask like the surface of the sun practically radiating displeasure.

“I don’t care,” Fox snapped, “Sun magic, fire magic, same difference. If you give him another power-up, I’ll kill you myself.”

“As if you could.”

“I can, and I will if you keep interrupting,” Josef snapped, “Fox has the floor, and he has useful information. Next time I see your tongue in this meeting, I’m going to chase you down in the real world and hack it off!”

That particular declaration was met with shock, and thankfully, silence. Did they not realize how bad the situation was?

They didn’t, he supposed, considering how many new faces had entered the inner circle.

“He’s also capable of temporarily increasing his cognition to absurd levels, to the point where he can both analyze situations to the point where he’s basically seeing the future, and do that to an entire battlefield at once. We don’t know where the limits are, we don’t know how often he can do that and we’ve got no idea about much of anything beyond the fact that there have to be some kind of limits … right?”

Wow, Fox was really off his game at the moment. Yet he had managed to get the necessary information, somehow.

But how would they use that information? Isaac Thoma’s superpower was his mind, and what were they supposed to do now? How the ever-loving fuck were they supposed to counter that?

What beat intelligence?

Misinformation? No, he was too perceptive for that.

Complexity? No, they’d be liable to confuse themselves as well as their foe.

Simplicity and honesty, along the lines of the saying “you can’t cheat an honest man”? And that was the biggest no of them all because it was just plain idiotic.

“So we hit them first, they’re a threat, call it pre-emptive self-defense?” another newcomer suggested.

“Halycon. Shut. Up,” Josef growled, “Our response in Lorient was already over the top, but at least there we only started throwing multiple S-Rankers at them after theirs arrived. We might not know where the divine line is, but if pre-emptive self-defense doesn’t cross it, hell has frozen over.”

“Calm down, oh fearless leader. They’re coming for us, we know that, but we can prepare, we can make sure that whenever they dare show their faces, they’ll run into a meat grinder the likes of which the world has never seen. We can slaughter their best and when the countdown on that there wall hits zero, we’ll end it all just like we planned,” Jormungandr spoke up. He usually kept his trap shut in meetings like this, but when he did speak up, there was usually a reason to listen.

“Or maybe they do win, only to later destroy themselves all the same,” Jotun interjected, “From the very beginning, we’ve been able to trust in the fact that people are self-destructive idiots. If the deal with our gods didn’t also require us to make actual preparations, we’d all be sitting on a beach somewhere, sipping Mai Tais, secure in the knowledge that everything was going to go to shit all on its own. Chill out, guys, things will work out just fine.”