The Book of End's End: Fighting Dogs - Chapter 2 (2.0 - 2.1) (Patreon)

Crow wasn’t sure how long the quiet stretched as they walked. It felt like an hour and a minute at once.

The walkway had grown fearsome in the time he’d traversed it. Fathom-wide gaps between the flickering glow of torches becoming unidentifiably dangerous. His frantic mind ever more convinced that something lay beneath the patches of shadow.

It became too much for him when they came to their first turn, and he found himself speaking as they made it. If only for a distraction from the foreboding gloom around the corner.

“What brought the two of you to the Sieve?” He asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Ethi gave no answer, yet Unity seemed downright eager to reply.

“I wanted to make my parents proud, distinguish myself even among our most elite of classes and rise to the top of the world to carve my name into its history!”

The boy put so much energy and bluster into his words that Crow almost failed to recognise them, even after seeing them on each of the Sieve’s entry posters for a month.

He felt his temper rise.

“If you don’t want to answer the question then just keep your mouth shut.”

Unity’s hands raised placatingly, though the amused glint didn’t vanish from his eye.

“Alright, sorry. I was forced in by a number of excruciatingly irritating people who have an extremely inconvenient interest in what I do.”

Crow eyed him for a moment, barely noticing as they turned into the next corridor.

“What about you?” The boy prompted. Crow paused, he hadn’t expected him to ask or care.

“I need to win so I can…” Crow tried to think of the best way to avoid the question without lying, yet the words slid from his grip. “Help someone.” He finished.

“What, become a hero? Protect the innocent?”

As mocking as it was, Unity’s answer flooded Crow with relief. A held tongue would be enough to keep the boy with his misconception.

Apparently deciding that he would get no rise in pushing the topic further, Unity turned away from Crow and resumed the silence that had gripped them before.

They hadn’t taken even a half dozen more steps before Ethi drew in beside Crow, speaking in a low murmur.

“I’d be careful what you tell that one.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean it,” She continued, “Guard your tongue around him. He’s the sort to remember all kinds of things and store them away as ammunition to use later.”

A few swift steps carried her near to the other side of the corridor before Crow could even think of an answer, and the girl’s eyes remained dead ahead as though she didn’t even notice him. He stared down into the corridor too, mulling over her words.

The silence blanketed them once more, allying formidably with the ever looming blackness ahead. Unlike the first hallway, torches grew more and more sparse the deeper they went.

Mist came to Selsis in the winter months, and Crow was well familiar with fogs thick enough to form an opaque curtain a few dozen paces ahead. Where the light fell off ahead he saw much the same thing, writ black.

It sent a far more primal chill down his spine, and he noticed that both Ethi and Unity joined him in edging closer to one another as they walked. He drew comfort from that, but the security of numbers was feeble next to his real source of assurance.

Sending his focus inwards, Crow felt for the ever-present hum of magic in his core. It leapt at his touch like a loyal hound. Warm and static, quivering as it awaited use and holding the power to rival a powder keg.

He resisted the urge to let any of it trickle free, simply kept a hand on it. Though every heartbeat seemed to redouble the temptation.

Step by step they neared the wall of darkness, and Crow was surprised when they stepped entirely free of the light without interference.

Surprise and relief didn’t free his hand from magic, however, and as the area around him drowned the light ever more, a new wave of uncertainty crept in to replace the first.

The rhythmic sound of footfalls became the only indicator that Crow’s teammates still walked beside him, so deep were the shadows. His heart was a drum in his ears, breath hot and loud in the suffocating corridor.

I could have a safeguard. Toughen my body, forewarn myself of any attacks. Defend myself with magic.

Crow was tempted to give in to his fears. His magic took two forms that he might use at once. The first ubiquitously common, a simple strengthening of the flesh and hastening of the mind, the second an ability nearly unique to him.

Utilising both would leave his reserves of power completely gone in just thirty minutes, but enhancing his body alone required only two thirds as much from his reserves.

Might the stage be over in under one hour?

He couldn’t risk it. Reluctantly, Crow continued to walk without drawing anything from the well of power at his fingertips. It was almost sickening.

Like walking towards a musket line unarmed and naked.

“Is this a test?” He asked, voice sounding strange in his own ears as it broke the quiet. “To face our fears, or… Or something.”

He trailed off, suddenly aware that Unity and Ethi may well have found the dark a trivial thing.

“If it is, I imagine it’s going to get worse before long.” Remarked the girl, sparing him the embarrassment.

“It isn’t.” Unity cut in. “The Sieve doesn’t play on phobias and anxiety, it tests magic and guile.”

“Wouldn’t pushing on past one’s fears fall under that banner?” Crow asked.

Though the boy’s face was hidden from him, he could practically see the grin as his voice rang sharp and solid through the hall.

“It could, but there are far more direct ways to test a person than this. And the Alliance rarely cares about courage when measured against power, skill or polymagery.”

Crow found himself oddly relieved by the thought. He had always doubted his own courage, and he knew his skill in magic was middling at best.

Yet power was something he had always excelled at, and as a tetramage there were few mystics with access to more of the seven spheres of magic than he. Perhaps he had a chance.

His thoughts scattered as a pinprick of light glinted far ahead; small and feeble as a candle beside the sun, yet seeming as incandescent as a roaring hearth against the gloom surrounding it.

A gasp let him know when Ethi saw it a moment later, and a hissed warning reached him from Unity at nearly the same time.

“Be careful, this is just the sort of trap the bastards in the Alliance like to set. Don’t be lured in by something as simple as a glimmer of light.”

Crow saw sense in the boy’s words, but restraining himself took effort all the same. He stared as the light widened and swelled with each step, silently urging the hundred paces separating him from it to shrink faster, yet knowing the dangers of sprinting ahead.

Ethi and Unity slowly faded into his vision as they neared the shining speck, and Crow realised the glow came from an opening in the corridor’s back. Tighter, shorter, better lit by far and paved with articulated slabs of stone. It arced diagonally away from where they stood, its end hidden from sight.

“Any idea about where it leads?” Ethi asked. Crow turned to see her question was directed at Unity. He frowned, for all the girl’s distrust of the boy, she seemed to have endless faith in his knowledge.

“None.” The boy answered. “Would you care to pop in and find out for us? You can let us know if there are any traps or ambushes by screaming in agony.”

She didn’t answer, but Crow saw something flash across her face at the response. Surprise, he thought. Strange.

They came to a stop before the next chamber, peering inside suspiciously. Tension seemed to replace the darkness from which they’d escaped, and Crow realised it was a caution that might paralyse them without end.

He stepped forwards; crossing the threshhold from corridor to chamber with two strides, hurrying to outpace his own fear then halting mere feet into the room. For a moment he felt rooted in place, yet when no attack came from mechanism, magic or man he felt his lungs empty with relief.

“That was the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever seen a person do.” Unity said, a laugh distorting every word. “Please tell me you plan on doing it for the rest of the stage.”

Crow paid him no heed, focus taken by the study of their newfound surroundings.

The room was long, and shorter than the last by no more than a dozen feet. It was stone, yet of a kind coloured like sand, and the pillars had been doneaway with. Torches burned hot on sconces, thrice as numerous along the walls as in the first passage and giving the room an undeniable warmth. It was only the rows of steel men that tainted it with fear and unease.

“What the pit are those?” Crow asked. His question hadn’t been directed anywhere in particular, yet Ethi picked it up.

“Suits of armour.”

He glanced at her, keeping an eye on the statuesque figures.

“I’ve seen armour, it doesn’t look like that.”

“Because this armour hasn’t been used in… pit, a century? Probably more. However long ago men killed one another with bows and swords rather than muskets and bayonets. The only suits like this you’ll find nowadays are mystic-wrought. People who can afford them tend to spend that money having others kill in their stead.”

Resting his gaze fully on the plates once more, Crow found a strange fascination studying them. They were insectoid, somehow. Carapaced about planes and articulated around joints. Strange to imagine a man wearing. As he studied them, though, he realised the breastplates did strike a chord in his memory.

“We’re dawdling enough.” Unity said, stepping ahead of both Crow and Ethi. The boy washed the room with his gaze, seeming to study it, as though deeming it a prize rather than a threat.

“If you’re looking for an exit-” Ethi began, only to be silenced by a gesture. Unity chewed a lip, turning to scrutinise the room’s every crevice.

“I don’t like this.” He muttered.

“Nor do I.” Crow agreed, starting towards the direction Ethi indicated. “Which is why I’d like very much to leave sooner rather than later.”

“Wait!” The boy barked, a sudden intensity to his tone. Crow found himself stunned almost to a halt, but it was far too late.

The moment he came within ten paces of the door a great hissing filled the air. Like the breath of a bellows, running through every wall and floor around him, making the stone tremble.

A sudden screeching pierced the air, and Crow spun to the thirty standing suits of armour.

Torchlight cast shadows around visored masks, quivering and contorting like eyelids. It struck fear enough in Crow that he nearly missed the rest of the armour’s movement.

Steel scraped against stone and wooden latches snapped as the figures tore free of their stands.

They shambled more than walked, and the clumsy sight might have calmed him, were it not paired with contortion enough to leave them steady footed and constant as they approached.

Shock slipped Crow’s grip from his magic, wasting precious seconds while he scrambled to grab it anew… Suits approached as he fumbled, nearly a dozen for each of his teammates and all moving faster than a man.

Fast enough to come within yards almost before he could think, fast enough that they could surely muster a killing force.

But not quite fast enough.

Before any were upon him, magic flowed through Crow’s body like a river of liquefied power. He felt it wash through every strand of his muscles. Every cluster of his nerves. Cutaris mixed with Utalis, the magic of energy with the magic of matter. One providing power and the other directing it through his flesh.

Skin became harder than iron, muscles tensed tighter than steel. Thoughts and impulses danced along with a speed that brought decision almost before any time could pass at all.

His eyes refocused on the armour. The creaking metal robbed of its speed, as though they moved through water where just seconds prior there had been air. Crow knew the illusion for what it was, the enemy was no slower than they had been when his heart still beat without magic.

It was he who had quickened.

Crow met the first of them midstep, bringing his shoulder to crash against its chest like a ram falling upon castle gates. Magic gave him solidity as much as speed, and strength even more than that. The impact tore creased steel boots from the ground and sent its recipient sailing backwards to break against the wall. It clattered to the floor as a score of disconnected segments.

Light enough to move in afterall. No wonder they can’t stop bullets.

Crow almost surprised himself with the ease he found in accepting the armour’s emptiness. Utalis, as always, proving a sturdy pillar.

Another replaced the first, giving even Crow’s hastened heart time enough to beat only twice. He ducked a grab and brought a fist against its head.

Mundane metal proved less stubborn than the knuckles of a mystic, and the helmet buckled inwards with a deep and hollow thrum. Surface marred by a dent almost as broad as the fist that had made it. Somehow, the suit advanced all the same.

Crow threw it back with a second strike, then cursed as three more charged to replace it.

Gauntlets lunged for him from all sides. He avoided all but one, shrugging the feeble blow off and lashing out in retaliation. Two more suits reached him as his target met the floor.

Crow spun as he fought, trying to defend and attack at once. His strength was greater than any two of the suits, and the veneers of steel from which they were composed made a petty obstacle for him, yet their numbers seemed only to swell.

And with the each new set of armour to join the melee came a new pair of metal bludgeons for Crow to contest.

He felt them strike no matter how he moved, standing all around him, leaving no direction free to dodge to. One, five, a dozen blows fell upon him, bruising his flesh and leaving his teeth rattling. One fortunate impact shook his wits from their magic, almost stripping away his prowess before he could swiftly grasp it anew. Twenty came after, fifty.

Crow realised his resilience would be countered not by a guillotine, but by the prick of a thousand needles.

Focus, they’re just strips of steel.

Yet the knowledge seemed ephemeral even in Crow’s mind, for what kind of steel could move by itself? The same kind, it seemed, that might coordinate to strike from four sides at once.

Spinning, Crow raised a hand and caught a sluggish punch unguarded before pulling the suit responsible off-balance. His boot left a print in its breastplate before the automaton could right itself, flattening the armour against the ground.

The gap in their masses was all he needed. Crow tore through it and leapt ahead, rolling to his feet three yards from the rest of the suits and turning as they hurried to re-engage.

Once again he darted forward to meet the nearest of them mid-charge, his boot catching it with a jolt to fly back as if hurled by a sling. Three more fell beneath it, caught by splayed limbs, and Crow didn’t waste the opening.

He ducked and dodged, weaving in and out of the metal men and letting loose fists, feet, knees and elbows whenever they neared. No form constrained his motions, nor did his countless hours of practice refine them. The fight was too hectic, panicked and chaotic for any such precision.

There was time enough only for instinct, not thought.

A fist shook Crow’s jaw, and he retaliated with a punch of his own. Then another sunk deep into his side and sent spears of pain to torment the flesh below. Anger sprouted to bury it.

His fingers hooked inside the mask as Crow spun to the sound of another scraping footfall at his back, dragging the first along with him. Armour screeched against armour, and two more suits lay flat against the ground.

There was no time to celebrate his victory. Even as he stood and panted to refill burning lungs, all of the armour sets he’d left strewn across the stone of the floor were stirring. Clumsy, slow and, unless wishful thinking were fooling him, enfeebled by his blows. Yet undeniably coming to stand.

Glancing over one shoulder, he caught sight of his teammates as they struggled against enemies of their own.

Shining white energy coiled about Ethi’s body like smoke wafting around a fire. Pure and unbroken as clouds, intrepid and unconstrained as a hurricane. It trailed behind her as she moved. Seeming to mingle with the blurred shadow left in her wake.

What speed. Crow thought, and his awe was well founded. For the girl moved as though to race the very sound her steps and strikes sent ringing across the walls.

Scraping drew his focus back too late. He whirled to see four suits already within paces; the plates of their epidermis crumpled and dented by fist and fall alike, yet their vigour unsapped even as mangled legs dragged behind them or ruined helmets lay twisted across throats.

Crow met metal with magic again, first blow not even landing before more foes reached their feet.

Empty suits. They’re just empty suits.

The realisation chilled him, even coming as late as it did. He’d felt his fingers sink into empty space behind that visor, seen for himself how bereft of mass the automatons were.

Somehow, though, it was only upon seeing them move heedless of the greatest ruin he could muster that Crow truly came to understand the nature of his enemies. Mindless, soulless. Fleshless.

They came on like a row of pistons, arms shunting with the force to splinter wood. Crow’s retreat turned to a stumble, his defence to a flail, and all the while they continued without hesitation or error.

Crow was not so mechanical, nor nearly as calm. Panic gave him pause as haste gave him error, and both were punished with pain time and time again.

Skin darkened with bruising, air escaped him in gasps, bones rattled and bloody spittle ran down his chin from burst lips while his head swam from a dozen batterings.

More suits stumbled forth, their clumsy steps serving as a warning of what was to come.

If Crow remained on the backfoot, he would lose.

The thought galvanised him, and when the next blow came he abandoned all defence to grip it. Pulling back, he dragged the armour towards him and ducked as it sailed over his head. Rose to bring knuckles ringing against another’s helmet before any could interfere.

He ignored a punch, then threw another suit back with a kick as the rest finally reached him.

Once more Crow fought the mass of them, yet now he relinquished any attempts at protecting himself.

A crack reached his ears from somewhere behind, yet in the madness of battle Crow barely even noticed. Only when the sound rang out again, twice as close, did it capture his focus.

Jagged crimson arcs seemed to dance across the air, as if tongues of lightning were bleeding. Crow turned to see the forked energies convene about a pair of figures- Unity and one of the suits.

Steam hissed and metal quivered for a moment before being torn asunder and scattered in all directions as a thousand smouldering shards of debris.

The boy’s blue eyes stilled to meet Crow’s greens, then a sharp bark escaped his lips.

“Behind you, idiot.”

In his wonder at the destructive power of Unity’s magic, Crow had let his guard down. The suits seemed to notice it just as his teammate did and stormed forwards like a landslide.

Left, right and straight ahead. Attacks came as if he were amid a den of vicious snakes, and Crow stopped perhaps two of every three. His heart sank and his blood boiled as despair and frustration alike flooded his thoughts. Advantage lost to hesitation.

But when he gave another step to their unrelenting attack, he heard again the crackle of power and saw the twisting of red lightning.

Unity gripped another suit; filling the chamber with a light great enough to boil air and melt shadow. When it cleared another enemy had been reduced to scrapped and blackened shrapnel.

Smoke had barely begun to wheeze from the remnants when the boy spoke.

“You can down them, I can kill them. Hurry up and give me another opening.”

And so he did.

Crow soaked more blows and returned them in kind, though he found the automatons almost a triviality with Unity at his back. It took only one pull to cast their insubstantial masses off balance, then a single grab from the black-haired boy to reduce them to sludged air and detritus.

It took minutes to thin the attackers; perhaps only one, or even mere seconds. Time was difficult to gauge as it passed in a world slowed by magic. The beat of Crow’s heart was the only constant measure he could use.

However long they fought, he and Unity soon reduced their enemies to piling scrap.

The taste of victory was sweet on Crow’s tongue for only a moment before he turned to Ethi.

The girl dodged still, weaving between the attacking armour with no less speed than she’d shown before. As Crow neared he studied her battle more closely, baffled that she would struggle so long while controlling such power. Curiosity overwhelming his instinct to help.

She struck the suits as vigorously as Crow had, moreso even, but her blows seemed shallow and feeble. Bouncing harmlessly where his had left dents, staggering rather than launching. The truth became clear in moments.

Ethi’s speed was far greater than Crow could hope to match, yet magic’s tie to physics was of the ficklest kind. Moving faster meant nothing for the force of her strikes, and hers were clearly too light to get the better of metal.

Crow resolved to substitute them with his own.

He crashed into the crowded automatons from the side, scattering and flooring one half as the other was sent stumbling. Before they could recover he leapt for those that still stood.

Hands and feet darted between them like cracking whips, and a deep, harsh ache sank into Crow’s knuckles. He remembered it from his preparation at home, stifling it just as he had when striking bags of sand had drawn it on.

Cracking lit his ears from behind, telling Crow that Unity had turned his magic against this new mass of enemies. The thought was reassurance, but an irrelevance.

It took little time to destroy the remaining automatons.

Crow looked at the scattered ruins as the magic left him. His lungs heaving from exertion, body buzzing with exhilaration, yet still he studied what was left of the foe. Better to be cautious, he thought.

But it was hard to muster any suspicion as he gazed upon the graveyard of artifice. Charred and bent, blackened and buckled, there was no more threat to be found.

Reluctantly, Crow stemmed the flow of his magic. The twin spheres that flowed through him left an aching absence; surge of ferocious vigour from Cutaris and the unflinching steadiness of Utalis both being poorly replaced by fear.

More than the discontent of his natural emotion, Crow feared that very attachment. To use magic was to invite thoughts and impulses born from whichever spheres were touched. Such things could balance a mind when needed, but every mystic was warned against the dangers of relying on them.

Feeling such thoughts was one thing, but it unnerved him to be left yearning in their absence.

“I think that went quite well.” He said, speaking for no reason at all save a distraction.

To his surprise, the words were met with assent.

“Let’s hurry up and leave before something else happens to roll that dice again.” Unity cut in, looking pointedly at Crow.

He didn’t answer, merely fell in behind the black haired boy as he hurried out.