Knights Apocalyptica - Chapter 168: Hyde

I lingered but a moment at the mirror: the second and conclusive experiment had yet to be attempted; it yet remained to be seen if I had lost my identity beyond redemption and must flee before daylight from a house that was no longer mine; and hurrying back to my cabinet, I once more prepared and drank the cup, once more suffered the pangs of dissolution, and came to myself once more with the character, the stature and the face of Henry Jekyll.

-Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886, 2nd Era)

The gilded roads of the ‘Golden State’ lived up to the name, and the hype. As promised, they were clear of scrap. Wreckage of old cars rusted to the side in sections, and it made it the smoothest driving Erec had ever seen. And it wasn’t just because the roads were clear, out here, they carried the cars like a long sheaf of black silk; any broken road was repaired with poured asphalt by a special Pack.

These patched places of road were distinctive too, they shone brightly in the sun with flecks of crystal that stood out on the otherwise dark grey asphalt.

This Pack had a special place within the linked relationships of the nomadic offspring of Uther. They used a hidden technique and resources to benefit all of those that used the road out here, in return, the rest of the Packs swore to answer any defensive aid they requested if trouble came up.

Aside from the road, life thrived out here. Greenery replaced the deep browns and dead lands out east, and the land was rapidly becoming more flush with flowers and trees. Bushes and grass dominated and reclaimed the world. That and the odd patch of dirt, surrounded by grass, already planning to take it over. It was also reclaiming the broken remains of mankind, tearing apart buildings, and returning this place to nature. Beauty hid the danger beneath. With empty roads and more greenery than the bio-caverns, it’d be easy to forget that monsters could even be out here. But they were thicker here than in the wasteland; the land was able to support a far greater variety and population. Even with care taken from the Pack by sending out scouts, monsters managed to hit the caravan twice in a single day.

The first was a group of five giant flying scorpions. Even though the concept of that was fucked enough already, the horrible things had four wings which translated to an annoying air flexibility and speed, which made it so they couldn’t press down on the gas and escape the monsters.

In the end, the Pendragons shot those down, and ran them over. Not before someone got stung with a nasty poison. Any enemies that could be avoided, they did.

They spent the night before arriving at their destination—a city called Muerte del Lagarto—camped with somber resolve, stabilizing the poor bastard poisoned by the flying scorpion.

Unlike normal procedure, Rochester didn’t send his scouts into town. He picked the Pendragons headed in with him, all the way to the vault, and that was that. They would make a straight line to the vault with the Arch-Magi and break in, but going in without proper arms was a major mistake. The entire place was infested with a strange lizard-like race. The Pack thought a stable Rift might be hidden inside, but they’d never found it. And the creatures within acted with some intelligence and had a form of society, with rituals and communal gatherings, tiers of dominance…

Very simple societal structures, but it meant some could be cunning. Overall, though, they were bloodthirsty and in such massive numbers that any breach of the city demanded a complete team stocked with ammunition.

Still, intelligent monsters were always an eerie proposition, especially in numbers large enough for a society. Even though these things would rip apart humans on sight, that little bit of community and structure to them made him unsure of what to expect.

The rest of the night was spent making preparations.

Garin sent out birds he wrangled out of the surrounding trees from where they made camp—if Rochester couldn’t send scouts, then Boldwick wanted whatever information they could get. But the information left a lot to be desired.

A lot of lizards. More than his birds could feasibly count, holed up everywhere in the city.

It wouldn’t matter. If they could get into the vault, and find what they needed, then he could see his mother again. Simple steps and no fucking lizard was going to get in the way of that path.

— – ☢ – — – ☼ – — – ☢ – —

[Light to the left.]

Erec looked at the direction highlighted by VAL. Just as it said, the barest but unnatural blue glowing light passed the doorway into an abandoned office building. Not even ten minutes in.

Vines grew up in the dilapidated architecture, threading their way through broken window frames and climbing the massive concrete giant like a tree. Birds shuffled from their perches among the leafs, and near the top floor, barely perceptible if not for the enhanced vision offered by his helmet, were small thin wires of string hanging with bones. Many buildings around here were similarly decorated, but they were a reminder that this place crawled with those lizards.

The blue light grew in intensity. At last.

“Halt,” Erec said, raising a hand and pointing towards the light. Boldwick confirmed the order, and the group of thirty stopped moving.

“Lizards?” Rochester asked.

“Probable,” Boldwick answered, “Prepare for a fight.”

Rochester barked out his orders, and the twenty Pendragons moved on command, sorting themselves into a quick firing line. Erec’s axe found its way into his hands, and he joined the front line of the Knights. They were the shield to the more vulnerable Pendragons.

There were now shrill, trilling noises sounding from the entrance to the office building, followed by a sharp whistle.

A cold shiver ran through Erec. That was definitely communication. It only confirmed what they knew, but he hated it; it reminded him of the Stag.

[No, we can’t translate that.] VAL cut him off before he could even think to ask. [Be wary of intelligent enemies. Oh, what am I saying, you can probably cleave a building in half at this point, short of running into anything crazy, you’ll be fine in this bundle of steel. Go get’em champ.]

A lizard threw itself out of the doorway the way that one might toss trash down a chute to the incinerator. It scampered up from the ground in a split second and let out a low hiss. As it did, flaps of skin fanned out from either side of its head, displaying bright orange spots. The thing was about the size of a human, and the bone structure and posture were on point, too. The differences were in the shoulders and limbs moved, double joints, if he had to guess. That, and of course, the claws and scales. Like those stretched humans, these fell too close to uncanny valley to be comfortable. This one had a bundled group of glowing blue mushrooms in one hand, wrapped together by duct tape. On the other hand, was a rusted piece of pipe.

It sized them up.

Erec didn’t give it the time, snapping a hatchet off his side and throwing it at the enemy. The weapon tore through its face and ended the monster before it could move.

Four more lizards rushed out the door. Then, one tossed itself out the second-story window, landing on Garin and causing his friend to stumble. That force wasn’t anywhere near enough to overpower the servos and knock him down, but it was enough to buy the lizard time to latch a claw underneath a pauldron and hold on for dear life while it whacked a massive femur against Garin’s head

Don’t think. Act. Erec moved to help, but five, no, seven more lizards had already cleared the doorway, coming in such density that they were shoving and jumbling up together to exit the apartment building. As they argued, a horrible screech filled the air, and another went flying out of the window like it thought it had wings. Erec was impressed. The moment they sensed a fight, they went all out. Was it an eagerness for death or to kill? Garin would have to solve his own problem, or someone else would have to help. The fire inside him was roaring, and their numbers were only scaling. Unless someone blocked off the chokepoint, most of them were scampering through, and sheer numbers would overwhelm the Knights.

Now.

Like a bomb going off, the ball of fire inside of him erupted, flooding him with that intoxicating sensation of power and Strength. The goal was simple. The best kind of goal to hang onto with Fury.

All he had to do was kill some lizards.

Erec rushed the choke point, grabbing the closet lizard in his path by the throat—the thin membrane around its neck quivered as its hands shot to fight his even as his gauntlet closed around the thing’s windpipe. With desperation it tried to pry its slimy digits between its neck and his hand, but it was for nothing. He flexed, an ounce of his strength, and the vice closed. There was a snap as its spine severed, and the lizard went limp, no longer fighting back. Erec threw the body right at the door, smashing a lizard leaving out of the office and causing even more chaos at the entry.

Those already out gave him a wide berth, sprinting away and chasing after different targets, which suited him fine.

If he wanted to slaughter the most there was only one ideal place.

Erec rushed the door, kicking off the ground and reaching it in a single bound, picking his path perfectly to collide with the ghost of another Lizard rushing through the gap as the door cleared; his shoulder rammed the thing, breaking its ribs as he forced it back out the door it just went through, further congesting that so vital point. Enough time for him to get right in position to block it. His headlight sprang on, and he got his first look at the interior of the office.

Absolutely flooded with lizards, and the ghosts of their predicted movements by the Q.A.P rushed by. The majority of the things in here were trying to get out, in a mad rush to get to the battlefield proper. A few tried attacking him, sure, but it was clear. They craved the chaos and blood of battle. But they failed to make one proper observation.

The battlefield had come to them.

First, Erec slammed his axe right through the closest one’s skull.

Next, he kicked a lizard on all fours, trying to slip by his shin, right against the side of the doorway, caving its chest in and smearing it against the frame in a gore paste. Its insides splattered over the face of another following the same path, making it stop and rethink the decision.

Another rushed Erec’s face, its mouth unhinged as if trying to swallow his helmet whole. Erec could’ve let it try, let its teeth break against the steel, but that wasn’t enough. He lashed out, nabbing it by the collar, then pulled it forward with a quick jerk while snapping his head forward to meet it. The blow broke its jaw and cracked its skull, leaving it screeching as its legs turned to jelly underneath it.

That was enough to get their attention. As he suspected, no more of the ghosts outlined by the Q.A.P. showed the lizards trying to slip by him anymore. No, they were all aiming to attack him. Outside, lizards screeched as they scrambled from the windows to join the fight, but that couldn’t be anywhere near the number in here. The whole lobby was filled with the scaley bastards, canned in thick. The occasional glowing bungle of mushrooms lit up the entire space; he didn’t even need the headlight.

Glorious.

His fire burned bright as the first wave of attacks rolled in. A bone-dagger jabbed at his midsection and burst into splinters as it failed to break through steel. Another smashed him in the head with a diamond-shaped sign with the number ’30’ written on it, which bent.

They kept coming for him, which meant they acknowledged him. He was an enemy worthy to spend their lives on.

There was a love for the battle, and for the first time, he felt a connection to these monsters. The love of war brought them together and crossed the vast difference between humans and weird-fucking-lizard. As the corpses of their allies piled up near the door, they didn’t even pause; the fighting only grew thicker. Blood and torn limbs flew, and when it interrupted their precious killing field, the lizards would drag off the corpses to make more room for them to get at Erec. Each held an eager look. Their pathetic tools of war quivered with anticipation in their hands. He was sure, in each of their heads, was the belief that they would be the ones to draw blood from the steel god that challenged them to this battle.

And they died.

There was satisfaction in that. They understood that the call of the moment, the rush of blood as one’s entire life hinged on the edge of a weapon, was an event more significant than themselves.

Erec loved these things in a way that made him burn hotter. Primal death and battle, they were kindred spirits. They let him tear faces off, smash apart bodies, and toss them around like playthings. Blood poured over them all in a haze.

At some point, he gave up his chokehold on the door, giving them the respect not to drag away their dead kin for the chance of a fight. None of the ghosts showed the lizards leaving. He could see, thanks to VAL, such a glorious sight. None of these thirty monsters left alive intended to leave this room. Not a single one wanted to do anything other than throw themselves at him and face death head-on or kill.

Erec laughed, a searing bolt running down his spine. His hair stood up.

They loved this. He loved this. These creatures, they were magnificent.

He caught one as it flew through the air, threw it at another, and then tore both of them in half with his axe; at the same time, at least two separate lizards tried to shank him with sharp objects—a few had been strong enough to leave dents in the steel, and then realized it was a faulty course of action, so now they were searching for joints to do real damage. Still, the VALLUM model was too well constructed for them to have much success with weapons like these.

Show me more. Erec begged of them as he tore through their ranks like a whirlpool of blood, his axe a twirling vortex that none of these things could resist.

Wasn’t there one of them here? A hero among their ranks? Whatever it wanted to call itself, he wished that something strong enough and with their glorious predisposition to pointless violence would arrive. If it did, it would give him a fight that would etch itself into the memory of this world, even if they both died in the process.

Fury burned, calling out with love and hate for that figure to show itself.

But the hero never arrived. The thirty in the room became twenty, then ten, and it stopped when Erec was left in a red office painted with viscera and decorated with the twitching limbs of his dying foes. Fury smoked out as the fight in here was over; outside, he already knew they’d be wrapping up. Erec turned his axe over, leaning on the shaft as his body twitched, the adrenaline running its course.

His eyes slowly trailed the room, waiting until he might move and rejoin his party outside.

These things were intelligent, and with that intelligence, they, too, chose to follow the path of violence and death. He respected it.

“Shit,” Erec said; “That ended too quick.”