Shattered Ladder 1-14 (Patreon)

It started with a kick.

“Burn it.”Angry and eager, Hunter Rai didn’t bother with any more questions after that simple order, a roar of agreement fresh from his lips. Almost immediately, the armored man simply turned and put a heavy black boot into the main display case; the one holding some of Wei’s prized herbs and tonics, the same one Ken had spent days of his life polishing until it shined.

Wood splintered apart, the dry cracking sound forcing Ken to flinch in the darkness of his hiding spot. The whole of the shelf shattered with a groan where the hit landed, hundreds of pounds of thick wood pitching forward all at once as if it had never stood tall and proud at all.

A hundred glass jars hitting the floor at the same time was a fist to the gut; the sound of three years of careful sorting, patient weighing, and simple labeling with Wei’s gentle humming in the background.

All of it breaking apart into a million pieces as he watched.

Fragrances exploded into the air; a choking cloud of dark red Cinder-Knuckle root, the sharp sting of Frostscrubs, and the overwhelming coppery tang of Zeng-bulb extract. The mix of those three and so many more burned their way through his nostrils, eyes watering immediately from the force of it, but Ken couldn’t sneeze. 

No matter what, he couldn't afford to make a sound.

"Scourge everything." Rai’s voice was tight with the need to break something as he grabbed a handful of dried herbs with pale leaves hanging from the rafters — Wei’s prized Arjen weed bundles — and tore them down, each and every bundle shredded apart between too-strong fingers. “Everything.” Delicate leaves didn’t last long in his armored grip, medicine becoming useless waste in a matter of seconds as the man worked to destroy what he hated.

"Understood, sir." Zero’s words were a bark of acceptance, already moving to kick a pile of scattered notes across the room. A heavy book fell from a shelf, the young Hunter catching it without thinking. The leather cover was intact for all of a heartbeat, before pages scattered free to join the rest on the floor; the sound like skin tearing as Ken gritted his teeth. 

Stop it. He shook his head. Just… stop it.

The Captain stood there, not joining in on the frenzy as his three subordinates took down the entire front room. "Thoroughly, Examiner Valen. Leave nothing for the Demon to reclaim or recover. Destroy what you can and burn the rest."

The Examiner barked out an understanding as Zero marched past both him and the Captain, the smallest of the Hunters on a direct path to the mixing station near the front door. He swept his arm across the table without even wasting a moment; stone mortar, brass scales, and delicate glass piping flying free. Metal bounced, glass exploded and stone slammed against the floor with a dull thud.

"Traitors." The Seeker stomped one large boot on a brass scale, the thing bent to uselessness immediately. "Cooking poisons for their filthy masters."

Every broken jar, every torn page, every smashed tool was a piece of the old man being wiped away, erased to nothing. They couldn’t just stop with killing his grandfather, they had to kill the only home and life Ken had ever known that wasn't about hunger and fear.

Val grabbed the largest copper cauldron from the hearth and hurled it against the wall, a deafening gong echoing through the shop and ringing in Ken’s ears long after the metal had clattered to the floor, dented and ruined.

"Clear.” Valen scattered one last shelf to the ground, the entire floor a sea of broken glass, torn herbs and spilled powders atop the dark brown of dried blood, a raw mix of colors and smells that made Ken’s stomach turn. "Nothing here but traitor filth."

As the Hunter in the gray-lined suit finished, the other three began moving; a simple line forming as they marched toward the still-open door behind them. Captain Kade was the last of the three still standing in the doorway. “With the passing of Binder Jin, the task falls to you, Examiner.” 

“Understood, Commander.” The Hunter in the gray-lined suit nodded as he pulled a small, silver canister from a slot in his armor, the man pausing for a moment. His armor expanded slightly, chest bulging outwards with a deep breath before the Hunter twisted something on the top. A low hiss filled the air, along with a smell thicker and more acrid than anything that had ever been in Wei’s shop before, as Val held it high.“For the Order.”Three voices echoed back at the Examiner as he tossed the canister into the center of the room right atop Wei’s corpse.

With a loud whoosh of air, the world outside Ken’s hiding spot turned a bright orange.

Raw heat washed into the back room, air sucked away from his lungs along with it, as the entire front of the apothecary knew flame. The sharp, clean smell of herbs was gone; instantly replaced by the choking stench of smoke, Sun-petals turning to acrid ash and Iron-vines burning like scorched metal. 

Ken pulled away from the wall, scrambling away from the flames licking at the wall. Fear filled his chest, even more than when the men had been just a thin wall away. But where he had been frozen before, all he knew was movement. 

There was only Go.

Thin limbs backpedaled from behind the crates, once-watery eyes suddenly dry and stinging from the black smoke filling the back of the store as flames climbed wooden shelves and devoured everything in its path. Dried herbs and ancient books were nothing in the way of its hunger, the few intact glass jars popping and shattering from the heat one by one, with showers of alcohol-preserved reagents feeding the blaze.

The Hunters were already gone, and the fire was finishing their work.

Wei.

He knew without looking that Wei’s body was in the center of it all, flames consuming his corpse before everything else; tunic burnt to nothing and beard already ash from the fury of it all. A sharp hot pain lanced through him, the feel of it traveling up his throat until he swallowed back down. I can’t help you, Master. 

He couldn’t even bury him. I'm sorry, Old Wei. I'm so so sorry.

Ken’s eyes darted around the room, training of the last three years guiding his body even through the panic. Wei's satchel, notes, and so much research stared back at him as he stumbled into another room, visible even past the dark fumes. Can't lose that.

His gaze went to a set of low shelves in the same room. Lesser stock. Less potent primary reagents he’d packed away, all of them still valuable but past their prime or never that good in the first place. Need those.

He didn’t waste a second more to think as he snatched the satchel from its hook, worn leather already hot to the touch. Jars and bundles from the low shelf were swept into it carelessly, all of them clinking together with Ken unable and unwilling to move even the slightest bit slower. Bloodmoss pouches, vials of Wei’s catalysts, Ghost Cap, Iron-vine, Sun-petal; all that and anything else he could reach from nearby bins and shelves, Ken just kept stuffing them in until the bag was bulging.

The smoke was thicker now, tears streaming down his face as it burned at his throat, clawing at his lungs and robbing him of the breath he was just getting used to. Skin blistered as the flames crawled closer, orange searing at the wood and cutting off every other path before he could even consider it. Hacking his lungs out, Ken ran for his only way out, shielding his face with the satchel. 

Half-blind from the smoke and heat, Ken burst through the back door, the cold air of the outside touching his skin properly for the first time in almost as long as he could remember. He didn’t stop for a second, three steps at full speed carrying him free of the smoke and many more launching him out into the grimy, neon-lit night of the city.

No matter what, there was no looking back at the funeral pyre of his home.

He couldn’t look back. I’m sorry, grampa.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

His feet refused to stop.

Ken didn’t know if he could anymore, everything around him a blur as his body pushed forward and through. Bodies clashed into him, sounds and words he didn’t bother listening to or making out as he just kept moving. 

The only option was to put distance between him and the fire, as far away from the four ‘Hunters’ who killed his Master and destroyed his new life. Even with eyes half-blind from the unrelenting smoke of those sickening chemical flames, he managed to keep going.

Where? He didn’t know and he didn’t think it mattered. He would be lost anyway, and it was better to be lost in one direction than waste time standing still where he was a target for anyone and anything. 

Just keep… keep moving. His lungs sucked in deep breaths, minute after minute after minute of his cotton-sandaled feet slapping the hard floor of the outside world not enough to make him stop. A steel and concrete maze stared back at him, a jungle of narrow alleys and dark, looming buildings; each one on the brink of falling apart.

The air was thick with the smell of damp rot, the smell of sparks in the air from poor wiring, and the distinct scent of too much grease everywhere. Chaotic neon flickering past him in streaks of color, languages he couldn’t read casting everything in shades of red, blue, pink and purple. The few sounds that managed to reach his ears were a constant, overwhelming roar; machinery thrumming off in the distance as people argued loud and frantic over the hiss of steam from buildings and grates.

The blood on his tunic, long past dry, had stiffened even more against his skin, painting it in spots of reddish brown that he knew didn’t go unnoticed as he tore his way through the backstreets. His heart pounded faster and faster, the smell of blood on his skin as thick as the actual sight of it. Eyes followed him from doorways, curious and wary; even a group of kids playing a game with a sparking piece of tech paused to stare as he passed.

Another ragged breath tore its way free from his lungs, his chest heaving as he ducked out of another narrow alley. That same breath froze halfway out as Ken’s eyes went wide, the teenager blinking wildly as he stared all around at the noise, lights, and flood of people. Oh…  oh wow.

A marketplace, packed and pulsing, moved all around him like a living thing; Ken unable to do much more than stare at it all as he finally stopped for the first time in who knew how long since the fire. T-too…

It was too much.

Going from just one person for years and most of that time spent alone to this.

I… I gotta… Whatever he had to do went out of his mind when someone stepped out from behind him. Oh.

Ken blinked up at the first; a big shirtless man looking back down at him. Thick chest and heavy arms layered in crude, ugly piercings and faded tattoos, he had the lean, hungry look of a predator who had just spotted an easy meal. "Yo, scrap-rat. Bit lost, ain'tcha?"

A laugh came from Ken’s right and he flinched, head snapping to the side as two more figures, both of them thin and scrawny and near-identical, hopped over a bunch of overflowing trash bins to join the big man. “Ay, Ko, what this?” A cruel smirk spread across the face of the second and third, each one at least wide enough to match the first, their  eyes fixed on the bloodstains on Ken's tunic. "Some nice paint. You gut ‘em for that?"

Ken backed away, hand going for the satchel as both sets of eyes fixed on it.

Both thugs took a step forward, the biggest one moving in closest. "What's in the bag, ‘eh? Sum’ worth bleedin' for? Let's see it."

The shove was rough, Ken’s head snapping up against a wall he didn’t realize was behind him as the world went white. For a second, he was twelve again and the world was big and he was small, alone, and hungry.

So hungry.

A fist flew out, dark skin coiled tight around hard knuckles. The big thug didn’t have a moment to finish his laugh as the blow hit him dead in the chest, the smile on his face vanishing to nothing all at once.

Dark eyes went wide, and air rushed free, as a man twice his size flew backwards a few good feet. Force Ken didn’t know he had carried the thug through the air and sent him crashing into a pile of overflowing garbage bags with a wet gasp.

Ken stood frozen in the middle of the street, arm still outstretched; the flame in his chest burning cold as his nerves felt while he just stared at his own fist.

The other two stared at him, the three of them silent as the crowd moved around them, one question on all their unmoving lips. 

The hell just happened?