Rise Of The Godking - Chapter 95 Kill

Daneel could feel that a state that was very similar to that which had led to the massacre on Graiton was coming over him, but he had not the strength or even the need to keep it at bay. It was also different, in a few ways, as he now had control of his own mind instead of completely being swept away, and because all that he wanted matched with what his fury wished to see happen, he just let it flow freely and completely let himself be entombed in a cocoon of rage that kept building with each second that passed.

In just a few seconds, he saw the startled face of the barkeep who seemed to have just finished coiling up the string tying the mace to a bone handle in his hand. He had even turned away, about to run in just a fraction of a second, but perhaps after hearing Daneel had slowed. Daneel had made no effort, whatsoever, to hide, so the barkeep had no option but to turn to deal with the threat so that he wouldn’t be stabbed in his back as when tried to run.

His lips drew back and his teeth ground together with what could only be the thrill that preceded a fight. In his right hand, the mace began whirling, once again, but Daneel paid no attention to it.

As soon as he reached, he went for the most obvious attack ever, intent on just ripping away the man’s flesh and bones. The punch to the barkeep’s stomach was deflected cleverly by moving his hand so that the whirling blur that was the string connecting the mace became a shield. It cut Daneel’s hand, too, before he came to his senses briefly and pulled back, but he couldn’t feel the pain.

“Kill. Kill. KILL!”

He didn’t even know whether he was screaming it in his mind, or out loud. The barkeep seemed to think this was his chance; with a jerk of his hand, he sent the mace flying at Daneel’s head in an attempt to repeat what had just happened to the maid. Seeing it, Daneel was reminded once again of the whole reason behind everything he felt, and with his wrath reaching a new peak, he actually jumped in the direction of the attack.

The barkeep looked as if it had been the last thing he was expecting. After all, no one would be foolish enough to wish to come even closer to such a deadly object that had already shown its power just a few moments before. Whether by instinct or pure luck, Daneel had also managed to duck under the mace’s reach, making sure that the attack would definitely miss him, and with haste, the man tried to move his hand again to change its trajectory.

From a sheath at his waist, he took out a long dagger that could almost be called a sword. He raised it above his head, its blade parallel to the ground in a stance that Daneel hadn’t seen before, but the way he handled it made it seem as if he had trained extensively with it, too. Putting his other hand behind his back, he quickly took out a shield covered with the hide of some animal that deflected Daneel’s next punch that had been directed at the man’s heart, and with a flat expression, he took a few wary steps back, as if getting ready to ward off a bull that would soon charge him.

Daneel didn’t like it. He didn’t like that every time he went for the man’s blood, all he found was air. He didn’t like that the land felt so dead, so bereft of the life it should have had its sense of loss seeped through his legs, filling him with all sorts of emotions. Something tugged at the corner of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay any attention to it. Still wanting to feel the sensation of the man’s heartblood and flesh flowing down his arms, he ran forward, again, this time picking up the dagger he had dropped on the way.

He slashed wildly as soon as he reached the barkeep, but the shield was always there to block every attack. An uppercut was met with a forward motion of the round thing made of hide that had no trouble in deflecting the sharp edge of the dagger. A sideslash was sometimes met with the man’s machete that clanked against his dagger, then sent it careening away. He tried to attack, too, and landed quite a few cuts on Daneel’s body, but again, Daneel felt no pain, and every time that he came close to sustaining a serious injury, Daneel drew on his actual skills that saved him, yet fled away a moment later.

The problem was that if he used them, their outcome would frustrating be, too. They called for a careful approach, with him studying the man and then giving the system the order to take control of him, but his overwhelming wish was to kill him, by himself, with his own two bare hands.

It became obvious, now, that he had been imagining those natural phenomena before. After all, if that was not the case, he would definitely have wished for them to help him now, when he needed them the most. He didn’t really think of them, though, completely focused on his blade that he sent faster and faster, in a series of jabs and thrusts and cuts that the man finally found difficult to counter, and at last, when he landed a gash on the man’s face, Daneel let out a grunt that held only a tiny bit of satisfaction.

“More. MORE!”

He pressed the attack, now. Clutching the dagger with both hands, he brought it down onto the man’s face, and although the small shield appeared, once more, it finally gave in. The barkeep screamed as the blade went through it and cut his hand, but at the same time, his other hand was already moving, sending the machete towards Daneel’s waste.

Daneel jumped back at the last moment. The machete still carved out a long gash near his belly button, but all he cared about was the blood flowing down the back of Hopkins’s hand. With a grin, he leaped forward again, oblivious of all the blood he was losing.

Just as he was about to send another attack, though… his legs wobbled, and his strength seemed to leak out of him as if he was a punctured balloon. It was then that he finally noticed that he was so covered with injuries that a normal man would have succumbed long ago.

With a smile finally appearing on his face, Hopkins raised his blade, ready to end it. Daneel fell to his knees, eyes on the dead, barren ground, ears picking up the sound of the blade coming at him, ready to kill him and grant him the same fate as the land he was on.

He still couldn’t bring himself to care for it, though. He now saw that everything he had been feeling was due to this island he was on, this beacon of life that had been snuffed away. He wished that it was different. He wished that he could do something, even though he was too late. He wished that people like those in front of him, who just wanted to take and take and destroy everything they sought after would die…and with a roar, he suddenly tried to will this thought into existence, even though no such thing could be possible with his present power and the dead state of the island’s will.

Only…hearing his call, something responded. Something stirred from deep within the ground, a wisp of what it had once been, but still there, still alive, still waiting, wishing, hoping for someone to come along that could aid it.

His vision blurred, and he saw two things happening at the same time. One, the tiny wisp traveled to a round, transparent crystal that had been set up deep below the ground. It flung itself at it, knowing that it would die in the process but not caring, at all, and the crystal shattered, whatever was inside it screaming for a second before vanishing as if it had never existed in the first place.

The wisp exulted in its victory for a single second, and then, it was time for it to go. It almost felt like it was…thanking Daneel before it disappeared, but Daneel was sure that he must be wrong, as that was something Wills weren’t supposed to be capable of.

Two, the patch of ground beneath Hopkins’s feet cracked, then fell through. The man could only give out a gasp of surprise as he disappeared, and then… the entire island shook as if an earthquake had erupted before beginning to sink, slowly but surely, into the endless depths of the Endless Sea.