Myth//OS - Chapter 69 (Patreon)

The noise didn’t die down as I pushed my way through the masses of people. The people up on the stage let the crowd’s radicalized rage run its course. They just stood up there, watching the crowd with the kind of practiced calm of those who knew exactly what was coming next.

While I moved, I silently grabbed my mascot from my bag and mounted it on my shoulder with a tendril of Ebonshroud. Lucia had gotten me a new one shortly after the Cloud Keep Temple raid. She probably didn’t expect that I’d be using it like this.

Up on the stage, Zortro lifted a fist. The lights flicked on, destroying the veil of darkness across the warehouse. The holo-projectors on either side of the stage shifted to the front. Guards moved around and pulled off tarps, revealing rows and rows of crates stacked along the walls.

Weapons. That much was clear as they cracked open the crates. Not just scavenged junk, either. They were assault rifles, shotguns, pistols and everything in between just off the production line. Most of it looked like stuff from Arbite Arms, but I spotted several brands.

“We are not alone, my brothers and sisters. Desmon rises all over Bastion!” Zortro’s voice cut through the sudden heavy silence. “We are not weak!”

The guards split off, and several people with combat chrome were projected onto the holograms. They wore heavy armor, and their sleeves were rolled up to expose the chrome. This was a lot more organized than I first gave it credit for… maybe I should come back another time?

More crates were cracked open, showing off hundreds of vials clinking softly. Healing potions, armor, cybernetics—there was enough stuff here to fund a small army. 

“Will without power is suicide! We learned that long ago.” Another gesture, and a different crate was projected up. This one was filled with dimly lit bottles. There were only a dozen or so, and each of them had a tag tied around the neck saying ‘Drink Me!’. “We have power! We have strength!”

The final tarp, this one behind the stage, dropped. Behind the Zortro and the others up there knelt one of Throne’s mechas. The weapons platform, built for overkill, was as deadly looking as ever. It was the only thing that gave me pause in the entire warehouse full of weapons. A weapon of war like that—it didn’t belong here. 

“We are not just posturing. We are prepared!” He stepped forward and the projector flashed back to his face. “Tonight is not just a feeble mob. It is a demonstration. Are you with me?!”

I pushed a man out of my way and continued through the crowd. I was almost to the front. I wouldn’t be able to rough up the entire crowd like Pursius wanted. I highly, highly doubted the Miix knew the full extent of what was going down, though.

“Not everyone is a fighter. Technicians, medical staff, messengers, lookouts, mechanics, ciphers—we need it all! If you wish to fight for our homeland and people, then stay! We’ll approach you, and figure out how you can help. If not…” He shrugged. “We understand. The door is open.”

The lights shut off just as I got to the front. For a moment, a heavy silence filled the air. The people all throughout the warehouse were about to start making their decisions. They’d only been fed one side of the story, though. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t shove the other down their throats.

Ebonshroud bloomed all over me, abruptly shifting my attire back to my armor and horned mask as I once more took on the appearance of Nyx. Tendrils of ooze shot into the ground below and worked throughout the warehouse in preparation for what was to come.

Now, I definitely didn't bring enough bullets for this kind of thing. It just so happened that they were kind enough to supply more than I could want. My first objective, of course, was the armory set up in full display.

The first guard to notice something was wrong received a sword transplant through his spleen. I twisted the blade, and yanked it out. A thin patch of Ebonshroud flowed over the wound. It’d keep him from bleeding out immediately. Before he could realize what was happening, I slammed my foot into his chest and launched him into the crowd.

I didn’t need just brutality though—I needed fear. Terror. It’d break this group apart far easier than anything else. My strongest AOE attack, Thorn’s Defiance, was linked to Moon, too. Using it here was a bad idea.

I had a few other options, though. For the first time since I awakened the Trait, Dream Shift actually came in handy without me having to force it.

[Nightmare - Inevitable Tide]

The walls of the warehouse shifted and took on a red hue. Blood leaked through. It started slowly at first, then poured into the place like a flood of malice. Hatred radiated off of it, driving a wedge of fear throughout everyone that saw it just like the stuff had appeared in Lucia’s nightmare.

Someone screamed. The lights flicked on, and confusion erupted through the crowd. The people directly behind me shoved and pushed to get away, and that started an inevitable tide of its own. People scattered and fled for the exits.

I stepped forward—

“Intruder! Even now, um, Throne attacks us! Right! People of Desmon, strike now! Defend yourselves!” One of the other people up on the stage shouted. She wasn’t nearly as charismatic as the Knight of Night. Her voice dripped with fear as blood dripped into her hair from above.

The tendrils I spread earlier erupted from the floor, snapped around ankles, and dragged people to the ground before anyone could make a break for the crates of weapons. The thin layer of blood wasn’t enough to drown them, but the people fought to escape their binds like their very lives depended on it.

Pling! Pling!

I created a dozen Ether Strings and played them in a discordant mess. Earth spikes erupted from the ground one after another, creating a sharp wall around the guns to keep everyone away and buy me some more time. Blood rained from where it was ejected by the erupting spikes.

A set of guards rushed me with shock mauls. I dodged the first one and retaliated with Ether Physique boosting my strength. I cleanly sliced through the guy’s arm and knocked him to the side. A black tendril stabbed out from my spine and created a dagger. It acted like a third arm, parrying an attack coming at me from behind.

I stabbed my sword into a woman with a club, and didn’t hesitate to leave it. Instead of wasting time on a throwaway weapon, a spear formed in my hands, easily blocking another baton. With the same motion, I twirled it around and sliced open a guy’s stomach.

“Bitch!” A Warden covered in ether finally showed up and activated some kind of skill—

Bang! 

A gun formed on my shoulder and shot him in the chest using some of the rifle rounds I grabbed from Pursius. The Warden collapsed backward as useless as everyone else so far and crawled for one of the scattered healing potions.

Really, I guess I’d been expecting too much. Desmon must’ve been quite the backwater if this was the extent of their warriors. The only thing they had going for them was numbers, and even then…

My shot seemed to wake them up, and several went for guns. The crowd had already cleared out for the most part. Only the ones desperate to fight remained. There were maybe a fifty or so left? Not including the guards or the people on the stage.

The people on the stage were deep in an argument. I could barely hear it from down here. “We can’t afford to loose it.”

“What’s the point of having this thing if we don’t use it?” A man climbed up into the mecha and powered it on.

“And risk throne finding out? Take it to—“ The person cut out as I casually swept a sword to the side and slammed my fist into the attackers face.

My stance lowered as I watched the power systems across the mecha light up. I could handle everything else fine, but the weapons of war drew close to the line I couldn’t cross quite yet. Instead of coming down to fight me, though, the pilot crashed through the back wall and vanished out onto the streets. With the mecha gone, so too was the only actual threat here—

A gunshot slammed into my side. The bullet crumpled against my Ebonshroud armor and clattered to the ground. My attention snapped back to the crowd of people, and I swapped the spear for a mace. My mace promptly gave seven people concussions as I carefully repositioned through the crowd for cover.

I played several more Ether Strings, and spikes erupted under the crates just before people could grab more weapons. They toppled, spilling their contents everywhere into a mess.

Someone finally got a good hit in while I was distracted. A shock baton slammed into my back, sending electric jolts throughout my body. My muscles tensed up unwillingly—but Ebonshroud didn’t share the same weaknesses as my flesh. A tendril shout out and whipped the man, sending him tumbling to the back.

One of the chromed out goons finally managed to get through the blockade of spikes and grabbed for a box. He tossed it into the crowd, arming a dozen people. He wasn’t satisfied, though, and moved for something else lost in the chaos.

”Ahahaha! I’ll be unstoppable!” He raised the Drink Me bottle up to gulp it down—

Bang! 

“…” I easily shot it out of his hands. The bottle exploded into a spray of glass shards that tore apart his face.

He stood there, frozen in terror for a moment. “Y-you—“

”Yep?”

”You—“ He pointed a finger at me like he couldn’t believe what just happened. Then he dropped to the ground and started to desperately lap at the liquid, not caring that his tongue was getting seriously cut up by the glass shards. 

A foot slammed into the back of his head, crushing it into pulp. Zortro finally hopped off his high ground and joined the fight with a rapier in his hands. “Desmon won’t suffer disgraces!”

I’d been keeping an eye out on the platform the entire fight, mainly to watch for the mecha. The others of the little terrorist group had already splintered, so it was just Zorro left. It didn't really matter. Throne would probably track them down one way or another. We were causing a big enough commotion that the Enforcers and Wardens should be dispatched any minute now.

The knight’s body glowed with ether. It didn’t look like an OS Skill, but closer to the true Ether Physique that the Muffled Musketeer used. “Zortro, Knight of Nights.”

I paused for a moment and then formed a longsword. I raised it to my chest in a proper salute—ah, wait. I couldn’t use Abyss of Serhymn like I usually would. Probably best I didn’t use any of my actual titles, for that matter. At least, the official ones. Hmm…

[Nighteye raises a paw. How about Eternal Night?]

That sounded way too edgy… I liked it. Maybe not Eternal Night, though? That’d sound like it copied him too much. ‘Sides, it overlapped with Moon. Oh! I was called this quite a bit in the past, especially near the end times. “Nyx. Queen’s Felsword.”

The Knight of Night lifted his rapier and stabbed forward without any further—

A gunshot slammed into the side of my head, totally ruining the duel. Ebonshroud extended out from my spine into massive wings of darkness and flapped back toward the crowd. Dozens of daggers and sharp quills exploded out into a barrage of throwing weapons that forced them back and away from me.

Zortro didn’t bother waiting for me to finish, and immediately took advantage of my distraction. His rapier flashed forward, perfectly finding a gap in my armor—one I intentionally left exposed. 

Ebonshroud lashed out and wrapped around the elf’s rapier, holding it in place. I lashed out with my sword, catching him over the head with the pommel. He staggered backward, and I casually flicked my wrist. Half of his ear was sliced off, dropping to the ground. 

“Argh!” He staggered back and ether flooded through his body once more. With more strength than should’ve been possible, the half-elf ripped his rapier free and moved backward.

“For Zortro!” The Desmon goons finally got their shit together after being stabbed a few dozen times by daggers and rushed me to buy time. Others fired shots at me, though it failed to penetrate my armor. They’d need at least arcanite rounds if they wanted to do damage. Still, the impact did jar my swings every now and then.

My sword extended as I swung, lengthening into a heavy warhammer. I slammed and crushed through the crowd and worked my way to the Knight of Night. If this was the best they had, then they had no idea how terrifying Throne could be when they got serious. Really, I was doing these people a favor. Better they were defeated by me.

Zortro dove under a javelin aimed at his head and snagged a Drink Me bottle form the discarded crate. Unlike the last guy, he actually managed to down it before I could form a gun. The effect was immediate.

“AGH!” Zortro fell back onto his knees and screamed. It was a screech half mixed with agony and fury. Not ether—something familiar flowed through his body. It was a discordant mess that shouldn’t exist. It was gone before I could fully lock onto it.

His muscles knotted and expanded under his clothes, tearing them apart. His skin rapidly expanded like something growing too fast to be contained. Veins lit up along his exposed muscles and chest, glowing with an unnaturally red. His spine and bones popped and lengthened, doubling the man’s height.

It wasn’t just a biological mutation either. The rapier in his hand twisted. What was once an ornate weapon reforged itself under the fel energy. The slender blade thickened and lengthened. He looked like one of the bosses from Glitch Scouts that just got a mid-fight power up. Only, I didn’t have the power of friendship to fight him off with.

Zortro stood again. He was easily twice his original size now, maybe even more. “Ah, there it is… the great equalizer. You Wardens think you're so special. Tremble in the face of real might!”

My grip tightened around the hilt of my hammer. Dragging him across the district to throw him off the wall just went from annoying to problematic.