No Mercy

Chapter 55: No Mercy

/Dear readers, today I have come upon something very interesting. I have been visiting various tribal states down south, and observing their practices, as someone such as me may do. I kept a close eye on their music especially, and soon they showed me some of their more peculiar ones.

Metal bowls, with many dents in them, that resonate upon being hit, long wooden tubes with some curves in them, far longer than the blowing instruments we are used to, and even special, large rattles. Those intrigued me especially, wrapped with thin strips of wood, and filled with hundreds of grains.

Its inside is lined with small sticks and thorns that the grain falls against, creating a continuous sound almost like rain, which is what it was named after. A rainmaker, oftentimes used in rituals to drive out drought.

But they have shown me much more than just that. They have shown me that their music is not written down, but individual, and they work together to create a slightly new piece each and every time. All members of the musical group, the mijuk, know their part and their place to improvise, as well as the other people playing with them.

It's a wondrous experience, hearing the droning of so many horns, and thumping of so very many drums, that I may mention in a later chapter, as well as witness their many dances. It is an unimaginable thing up north, the heat, the drink, the atmosphere of it all.

Combined, the mijuk and the dancers, the baileires, make the festival. They sing, and shout in the languages of their ancestors, they dance around a fire to the rising and sinking of tones, and all make merry. The baileires may even grab someone out of the crowd and invite them for a dance, sometimes those are couples, pairings, good friends, or entirely strangers.

The festivals are places of celebration, there is no conflict, no feuds, no fights. Only laughs, new bonds, merriment, drink and food. To celebrate a harvest gifted by the gods of the land, or the coming of a spring, or the birth of a child. It is a wonderful sight that I can only encourage anyone to come see, so long as you bring gifts to exchange./

- a diary entry of the deceased Kurt River, featured in his life's work, "Musico Telofio - The Journey".

- - - - - -

When Mercury arrived at the inn, everything was smashed. Davis was lying on the floor, blood leaking from his mouth, and there were no more soldiers to be seen. The floor was full of liquor and wood chippings, with the counter and tables all smashed.

The windows were busted, and all of it was smashed.

Mercury was stunned for a moment, as he entered the building. He was supposed to be on time, he had run there, and his little cat-sized heart was beating heavy in his chest. He was panting and his legs hurt, but he had come. So why again? Why again was he just a little too late?

Wait, was he?

<Appraisal>

[Davis: Human Barkeeper. Bleeding out. Unable to resist effects of Appraisal. 4 Hp left. Decreasing.]

Mercury still had some gold, right? He had killed a couple of soldiers, surely it was enough!!

Gold: 616

Enough for... how many potions? Uh... 30? No, wait, shit. 12. Yeah, 12 potions of minor healing. 60 Hp.

Mercury didn't even hesitate. Maybe those 60 Hp would be enough to bring Davis back. There was a chance, and a chance was all he needed.

Instantly, he sunk his money into potions, pouring the liquid down Davis' throat and onto his wounds all at once. But after he bought just 5 instances of glorious healing juice...

[Excessive consumption detected. Stock running low. Price will now double with each purchase.]

Mercury's face sunk.

[Davis: Human Barkeeper. Bleeding out. Unable to resist effect of Appraisal. 28 Hp left. Decreasing.]

It didn't matter. He bought another potion for 100 gold, then one more, and that was it.

38 Hp and some blood, that was all a man's life hung on by.

It was so fragile, so different from the heat of combat, so incomparable to friends disappearing. As Mercury watched the light in Davis' eyes return for a second, he felt hope.

Then, Davis coughed up blood, and it felt worse. Mercury hadn't even taken a look at his injuries, just hoped that the potions would fix it all, but...

This wasn't something easy to fix. A shattered ribcage, maybe ribs puncturing his lungs. Cuts and bruises all over, and severe bleeding from the head and stomach.

The man had been stabbed, cut, bashed, punched, and thrown, and all Mercury had done is prolong his suffering.

Davis was doomed, and now he had to life through his own death a little longer.

As Mercury realized what he had done, his legs gave in. His stomach sunk, and he felt sick. The cat came crashing to the floor as he gave up, and <Limitlessness> deactivated.

All of a sudden, he felt so much heavier. His legs were like lead, dragged him more and more onto the floor. He cried out in sadness, about losing someone, but there was no thirst for revenge.

His worries laid down on him like a heavy, heavy blanket, his eyelids falling like anchors, and his body sinking onto the ground. He had no stamina left, nothing more to give.

With his last lifeforce, Davis laid a hand on Mercury's head. He knew he was dying, and the pain was bad, but seeing his friend crumple before him... well, he could stand a little more for that.

"Heads up, sir," he whispered, coughing up some more blood. "I live... in your heart."

Davis forced up a small smile at this, his eyes shining just a little as his lips curled up, even in pain. He knew his line hadn't been original, or very clever, but he was a dying man with little thoughts to spare. Maybe, at the very least, he could give some comfort. The same comfort his inn had given himself.

Then, he closed his eyes, and his hand slid off the cat's head, hitting the floor with a quiet thud.

...

...

...

Mercury couldn't cry.

He didn't have tearducts the same way he used to, but even then, his lips still shook, and he git his teeth and clenched his paws. He thought the fatigue would be enough to take him away, to make him fall asleep, but he couldn't anymore. After what Davis had said, Mercury couldn't allow himself to give up again.

It wasn't good to push too far, he knew that.

It wasn't good to run before you could walk and he knew it too!

But goddamn it, if his friend died in such a way, what could a man do, but move forward in their honour?!

Mercury grit his teeth hard enough to make his lips bleed, adding just a smidge more to the red stains on his fur, and he opened his eyes.

Fuck.

FUCK!!

"AUUUUUUGGHHHHHHHHUAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!" he cried, screaming until his lungs could no more.

And then, Mercury pushed his feet under him, willing the heavy lead to move, shaking off the blanket of misery and deciding to instead keep it in his heart. Not closed away, not ignored, not left to fester and eat away at him, but as a part of him. As the memory of Davis. As the bittersweet harmony of the man's attitude and his death.

Mercury decided that to honour his friend, he needed to grieve for him, but one day would not be enough. He would be sad whenever he felt like remembering today, he would be sad whenever he thought of the blood eclipse, and he would be sad if he couldn't revive his friends. But he would always, always, and forever always be himself, unapologetically, and imperfect, but seeking to be at least a little bit better with every day.

And with that in mind, he took a step, pushing the heaviness out of his legs, into the floor, and far away from him. He took another, going beyond what anyone would have expected him too, but short of what he needed himself to.

And he took a third step, seeing the sun stand a little late in the sky now, shining through the broken windows and onto Davis' body, the smile on his face glowing all the more as Mercury turned away, and went outside.

There was still a city to save, still people with futures, friends, and families. Perhaps, if he took just one more step, he would be able to do some good.

[The individual is going through extraordinary circumstances. The unique trial "One more Step" has been created. Rules will be revealed upon fulfillment of additional requirements, rewards will be given out in stages. Accept?]

Piece of garbage wouldn't leave him alone, would it?

Mercury gave a disgruntled huff at the system, bothered by its incessant meddling with his mental affairs, but then again, he wasn't in the position to turn down rewards by any means.

Yes. Fine. Give out the goddamn trial.

And so, Mercury steadied his heart once more as he looked into the burning streets, and heard the stomping of many boots.

Today was the day to go just one step further than what people thought of him.

- - - - - -

Count I'htar was happy yet upset at once, frazzling trough his hair as he thought of the consequences. This wasn't quite how he had envisioned things would go, he didn't know the northerners were planning on blowing themselves up to allow others to escape.

This would create massive damages, and require massive repairs. The merchants' guild largely took care of insurance, so this would heavily put a dampener on their coffers, while it would enrich him, when he invested at a low to get the economy flowing again. But that was only the tip of the iceberg, only if the city remained standing with enough people to support it.

Otherwise?

Well, his fate wouldn't be too rosy.

The count had great faith in his personal guards, they were trained by the best, and far more capable than an average person. He didn't worry about dying, he simply worried about the future of his business with this new developement.

Perhaps it was time then?

"Deploy some soldiers, Kaga, I want the northerners beaten down and out of the city as soon as possible," he said, a chilly undertone to his voice.

Those mercenaries wouldn't even know what hit them. With a little luck, and some disguises, they would think that the local seekers struck them back, not his men, and certainly no suspicion would land on him.

"How many, sire?" the woman asked, making sure the buttons on her suit were properly closed. She was taller than most men, and had her long, blood red hair tied into a ponytail, her usually fiery eyes currently calm.

"As many as it takes. Spare only the bare minimum to keep me safe, make sure that the city recovers as many lives as you can. I want them indebted, not dead."

"Yes, sire," she said calmly, giving him a slightly casual salute and walking off to inform the other guards of their job. It was finally time to fire back against the hooligans attacking the city, and they would gladly do so under the name of count I'htar. Perhaps this way, they could finally nab the first spot on the local fame leaderboard.

Kaga smiled a little at the thought, musing over the possibilities as she went down the stairs. Her master was a good man, offering up his personal guards to protect the city. It wasn't something he was obligated to do, but instead something he was doing simply out of the goodness of his heart. Very nice.

But of course, before she entered the waiting room where most of the guards, or at least their communicators, were situated, she put her serious face back on. Time to look all professional and cool, she thought, wiping any traces of a smile from her face.

Then, she turned the handle and opened the door into a room full of equipped knights, wearing special battlesuits made from monster parts or fancy metals.

"Alright everyone, the count has decided it is our time to act! We will drive the brutes out of Stormbraver, make sure to show them that they are but a breeze to this city, and it has stood much greater winds! Capiche?!"

"YES MA'AM!!"

"Alrighty, pass it on 'n good luck. I'mma go do something else," Kaga said, half muttering the last sentence as she closed the door behind herself. She could only maintain proper procedure so long, and a couple sentences were usually her limit before some of her... stranger dialect came to show.

She shook her head as she walked down the endless hallways of the mansion, taking a couple of turns before she arrived at the vault. She didn't often get to use her proper equipment, since the count insisted on her looking good and professional, but still, she somtimes missed it.

The leasurely jacket, the cappy, the jogging pants and the sneaker. It certainly made her look casual, which the count minded, but if Kaga was concerned, that was the best.

She saw her chance, and didn't intend to waste it, immediately putting on her incredibly comfy combat gear, and pulling her weapon out of the inventory. It was a long Naginata, taller even than herself, and she gave a wry smile at it, driving her thumb down the clean edge of the weapon.

Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully she'd be sent out today! She got to take casual walks so rarely nowadays!

- - - - - -

Eventually, the boy fell. He stumbled as he ran, over a lone rock, and came crashing to the floor, and step by step the hunters grew closer

Yet, try as he might, he could not get off the floor.

It was but a matter of time. The breathing behind him grew heavier, bit by bit, yet his legs would not move. They were broken and exhausted, and after their motion ceased, they would not move again.

He cried bitter tears on the floor, crawling forward through the mud, pushing and pulling with his elbows as he clawed his fingers into the dirt until his nails broke. His face was bleeding and aching, the dirt burning in the scrapes, and he barely felt his knees anymore, but he ran.

Desperation had taken hold of him, and as his hot tears mixed with his blood and sweat, he stretched out his arm one last time, and watched it get stepped on.

Something picked it up from the ground, and the boy attempted to scream put in pain, yet all that left his throat was but a hoarse croak.

The running boy had given all he could to run, and the run had taken all he had. There was nothing more to give, yet so much to lose.

The boy watched as his arm was raised up by a hand, grey in colour and much larger than his. It remained in the air a little, then dropped to the floor again.

And then, there was a crunch, as something came down on him. For a moment, the boy only felt pain, until it was replaced by coldness, then by a quiet emptiness.

The boy had died, yet the hunt was more than on.

- - - - - -

Lucia was busy back in Stormbraver. She had put on whatever bits of combat gear she had in her inventory, namely a few accessoires to enhance her power and speed. she didn't carry her suit of armor around with her, and she wouldn't have had the time to swap into it anyways.

For a little while, she thought of Iris, but Lucia pushed the thought aside not too long. Her friend was certainly as busy as she at the very least, and quite frankly, Iris wasn't one to be beat down quickly. She was confident that it was fine.

Instead of looking for anyone in particular, Lucia ran through the city. She had taken off her uncomfortable shoes, and was now sprinting barefoot, quickly sparing an arrow for any enemy heads she saw poke out. Some of them willingly approached her, others she found, and other fled, yet her arrows pierced their hearts all the same.

She had no mercy left, not in a situation as dire as this. A war, no, an invasion, an onslaught like this deserved no hesitation, no worry, only a deep drive to defend.

And in Lucia's heart, that drive burned bright, just as bright as the flames of fury within her heart, making her bow glow constantly, and attracting enemies to her like moths to a flame. Eventually, she saw a familiar face, and an equally familiar visor.

"Geh?! Didn't the general say she was dead?!" the paladin asked in the northern tongue, putting his shield out front and getting some distance between himself and the bow wieldress.

The berserker woman on the other hand...

"RAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" she roared, charging at Lucia as soon as she saw the smaller woman, the fires of rage burning all the brighter in her eyes.

"I will not miss this time," Lucia whispered to herself, almost scoffing at the berserker's charge. She was truly pitiful, Lucia thought, using all that anger in such a primal way. Instinct and power can only take you so far, and the sight of using a berserker's strength so pathetically made her almost laugh.

She would show that wench how one raged.

Lucia crouched down low, remaining calm in the face of a charge towards herself, before leaping up onto a building in one swift, soft hop. The paladin tried to grab her with his flail, but quite frankly, he had been too far away, probably because he was scared of her.

From on top of the building, Lucia raised her bow and drew the string back, all the way to the corner of her mouth. Her elbow was straight, her bods aligned sideways, and she had both eyes wide open, honing in on her target. And then, she let go.

Instantly, her flaming arrow hissed forth into existence, cutting its way through the air with irresistible force. The bowstring hit Lucia's forearm and left a small burn, but she didn't even flinch at the pain, only staring at her target and already pulling the bow back once more.

The berserker didn't have the time to react consciously, yet somehow, purely by instinct, she raised one large meaty arm up in front of her face, and it was all that saved her. The arrow pierced right through her forearm, through the bone, and out the other side by about 10 centimeters, the head of the arrow stopping barely before her eye.

In anger, the woman roared, raising her arms to smash the floor, only to suddenly keep over and crumple to one side.

"URAAAGH!" she cried, having an arrow lodged into the same eye Lucia had already aimed for before, but without getting a chance to even channel her rage, another arrow already hissed forth, piercing her arm onto the floor, and then the same for her other arm.

The paladin watched in horror, charging forward to protect his friend from the slowly increasing hail of arrows, but it was too late.

"<Hammer of Order>," Lucia said calmly, drawing back her bowstring as the flames around it burned brighter.

And as she let go, the arrow hissed forth, before disappearing, as two more shone into the air behind Lucia. Then they hissed forth, and disappeared once again, leaving four flaming arrows in behind her. And then they doubled again, and once more.

Before 10 seconds had passed, Lucia turned around, and from behind her, a hail of arrows thundered forth, sundering the paladin's armor and rending the berserker's flesh.

"May you learn to resent chaos in death, northerners."

All that was left were charred bones and ash.