Chapter 5: Queen’s Pet

Artur was surrounded by a dozen city keepers, with each man and woman holding a firearm aimed at him.

Considering his only bulletproof parts were heavily injured from blocking one too many bull slugs, Artur decided caution was wise against these armed guards.

Their leader, the Warden of Truving, wasn't with them.

A potential weakness waiting to be exploited.

However, all it would take for them to capture Artur was one solidly placed bullet, timed just right to bypass his dragon scales, and break one of his knees or puncture an organ.

But not even the best of their shooters could manage such a shot, Artur knew.

Not under a starless sky.

Using the night dark to his advantage, Artur rushed to the nearest streetlamp—the only source of light helping the keepers see him.

And when he'd already reached halfway to his target, only then the lead keeper barked the command to open fire, shooting the first bullet himself.

Warden Darius Hooks wouldn't have hesitated even slightly, ordering Artur's killing the moment he moved.

Hooks was notorious for being extremely merciless against Mutants.

Something the Beyond Steelgrit Slayer had learned in his home region, where the most powerful warlords reigned.

Darius Hooks being absent from the keeper squad was an opportunity that needed to be utilized fully.

The Outer District echoed with pops of gunfire, the revolvers covering for the single-shot rifles as they were reloaded with second rounds.

Firearms were difficult enough to handle under the sun, but the city keepers didn't even have the moon to assist them tonight.

Several bullets came close to hitting Artur as he moved closer to the lamplight, but only seven managed to connect in the end.

All blocked by his dragon scales.

Two struck him in almost the same point on his left forearm, chipping a few scarlet scales off.

But aside from a short spurt of crimson, Artur touched the lamp without any further damage.

And before the rifles fired a second volley at him, Artur slashed at the pole.

His dominant right lacking two claws, Artur swung his left—the more injured arm.

Not wanting to worsen its condition, however, he didn't go all out.

Slashing the hollow aluminum post of the streetlamp halfway through was enough to topple it.

The neon red light cracked into the concrete, Dark Dust scattering upon its shattered glass as it blew out with a bright flash.

Drenched in darkness now, more than half of the keepers still made their muzzle flash, letting lead fly aimlessly.

As if they were ordered by their leader to waste as much ammunition as they could.

But it did make sense why they pulled their triggers with such restlessness.

After all, they were against Artur Dragonclaw.

And the Organization was adamant on how Mutants they'd declared Forsaken were to be dealt with:

Execute on sight.

Artur crossed his scaly forearms in front of his neck and head, guarding his most vital yet weakest parts against their gunfire.

Only a couple bullets even scrapped against his dragon scales, the rest going wide to eat concrete.

And within seconds, the blind barrage ended.

Without their leader, the city keepers came off as unprepared and incompetent.

Were they expecting killing a Forsaken Mutant to be no different than shooting a mindless Chimera?

The keepers fumbled in the dark while reloading their guns, muttering in low voices to their partners, as if reassuring one another they were still alive and together.

'Talk about a fuckup.'

Artur walked over to the nearest building and started climbing it.

Pipes, windows, lamps, everything was a handhold to him.

And where there wasn't one, he created his own with his claws.

Missing the middle two of his right, though, did slow him down, allowing the keepers to fire another round of wild shots at him.

But Artur managed to reach the rooftop of the building with only bleeding cuts and not bleeding holes.

Standing at the edge of the rooftop, Artur looked down upon the city keepers reloading their firearms yet again.

Though Artur didn't have true night vision, he could still see far better in the dark than those beneath him.

And he was eyeing one individual in particular.

The Huntress, collapsed in the middle of the concrete road, a third of the keepers checking up on her.

And on the disappointment she'd died for.

Was this Vesper Drayton's legacy?

A Steelgrit Slayer who sacrificed her life to save that of a Mutant Slayer who didn't even slay Mutants?

Initially, Artur had taken Vesper Drayton for another greedy human being.

For her to waste her talents away in Truving, he'd assumed, the Towers must've been paying her generously.

Enough gold for her to abandon her duty as a Mutant Slayer of the Organization.

Now, however, Artur was even less sure why Vesper tied herself down to this place than he'd been when he was first told about her.

Truth, like everything else, had been corrupted in the Last Lands for ages now.

However, there still remained some that were absolute.

Like the perpetual nature of war and the fleeting nature of peace.

Like the foundational nature of pain and suffering.

And, like the inevitable nature of death.

Just like them, there was another absolute truth accepted by everyone:

No one can carry gold to their grave.

Or as the saying went:

The dead lack pockets.

If Vesper Drayton did indeed care only about the money paid to her by the Tower Family, she wouldn't have accepted her death so quickly.

So, if not gold, what was Vesper actually fighting for?

She'd been the Protector of Scotty Tower, and in the end, she died honoring that duty.

However, was that how she saw it?

'I never had a choice,' the Huntress's words echoed in Artur's mind.

And as he continued gazing at her limp body, Artur wondered what she'd meant by her final words—

Artur caught himself.

'Why do I care?'

At once, Artur tore his eyes off Vesper, stepping away from the edge of the rooftop.

And as the city keepers lost a couple more idle shots at him, Artur backed out of their range, turning to the building right next to the one he was atop.

After that, it was all a matter of hopping from rooftop to rooftop.

Jumping, rolling, scaling, descending, all the way to the south of Truving.

Where a section of the city walls was blasted open this noon by a pack of four Chimeras.

Just as planned.

'If only the rest of it went half as well,' Artur thought, making his way to the breach in the city walls. 'But the Huntress had to ruin it all.'

And here he was, almost feeling bad for her death.

Vesper Drayton was a grown woman, and a Steelgrit Slayer on top of that.

She'd made a decision. And now she suffered its consequences.

That was another absolute truth: the nature of the Last Lands.

It made you choose, then tortured you with your choice.

Just as Artur was the unforeseen factor that led to her end, Vesper was that for his plans.

Artur was supposed to chase down Scotty Tower, as the Spite venom pulled the Mutant Slayer deeper into the underworld.

Had the young man not given up the information Artur demanded of him even while dying, there was still one way to wring it out of him.

The Spite antivenom.

Artur had planned to use it as his final move, offering relief to Scotty Tower's suffering in return for Dante Warrick's whereabouts—

A spasm shot up Artur's left forearm, the blood leaking from his dragon scales dripping off his claw-tips.

As if his body was trying to remind him of the one who ruined it all.

Everything had been going so well—all according to his plan—up until that first bull slug fired by the Huntress.

Artur came to Truving seeking Dante Warrick.

And now he was leaving the safe city worse off than he'd entered it.

'Don't be greedy,' Artur told himself, descending to the streets when he was almost at the breach.

'Impatience is at the heart of every fuckup.'

Artur might not have reached any closer to slaying Dante Warrick tonight, but he'd survived a Steelgrit Slayer and a keeper squad.

And as long as Artur lived, it was only a matter of time before his claws ripped out Dante Warrick's heart.

Artur's steps echoed against the concrete path as he neared the city walls.

The lamplit street was so eerily quiet that he could even hear the blooddrops dripping off his scarlet scales onto the pavement.

It would take more than a week to fully heal all his injuries and all his dragon scales, Artur knew, and it would cost him greatly.

Not in gold, but in something far precious:

Sleep.

Only twice had Artur been hurt this bad or worse.

Proving how dangerous the Huntress was.

'And now she's in the underworld.'

Vesper Drayton had been an obstacle standing on Artur's path to slaying Dante Warrick.

But the Huntress was no longer alive.

'Then why do I not feel any satisfaction?'

Before Artur could figure out an answer to that, he noticed a large figure blocking the breach in the city walls.

Standing at over six feet, the bulky man loomed with his shining arms crossed, wearing the plate armor of an eastern swordfighter.

"Took you long enough," the knight said in a grinning voice from behind his steel helmet. "Thought they already got you."

'So this is why he wasn't with his squad,' Artur realized, stopping about thirty paces from the Warden of Truving.

'He was waiting for me here all this time.'

But how had Darius Hooks figured out Artur would not only be escaping Truving this very night instead of hiding in its Outer District, but also that he'd be doing so through the breach in the city walls instead of its gates?

Did the Warden of Truving hold all the might of the city keepers as well as all their wits?

"Why did you stop?" the knight asked, gesturing toward the hole blasted into the granite barricade.

"Is the door not big enough for you? Leave already. Shoo."

Artur closed in on the armored Slayer when he sensed no other hostile aura nearby.

He still kept a cautious eye on the longsword strapped beside the knight's waist.

Dragonfire required more training.

Dragonsmoke demanded quite a large opening.

And Spite venom wouldn't poison a man encased in steel.

Artur sighed. 'This'll get bloody.'

Crossing his forearms, Artur protracted all eight of his remaining claws, before throwing his hands behind him and charging at the knight.

Darius Hooks went with a bizarre strategy.

Instead of drawing his longsword, the knight showed his gloved hands disarmingly.

"I'm a friend," the Warden said casually. "You can relax—"

'Friend, huh?'

Artur slammed a scaled palm against the helmed head of the knight, throwing the armored man to the ground with a loud bang of steel.

'I'm immune to that trick, idiot.'

Hooks grunted in pain from behind his visor. "You out of your fucking mind, Mutant piece of—"

With the Warden's back against the earth, Artur stomped on his right elbow with his left foot, crashing his right knee into the shiny breastplate of the knight.

And using his claws, Artur dug under the steel neck guard of the Warden's armor, pricking his jugular without killing him.

Their battle was over before it ever began.

Suspiciously quick.

Was Hooks's notoriety merely a façade fueled by the Organization?

The Warden of Truving was a deadly swordfighter from the east, a feared Beyond Steelgrit Slayer.

Artur was strong, but he wasn't delusional.

He knew he couldn't defeat an opponent of such caliber this effortlessly.

Especially while injured and not in his peak condition.

So… what was Artur missing here?

"Get off me, you fucking freak!" the Warden grunted. "What gave you the idea I was waiting for a fight—"

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Artur demanded. "Who told you?"

"Who do you think, dimwit!" Hooks blurted. "The one who granted you entry into this city!"

Artur pressed his knee harder into the knight's chest. "Nobody granted me entry into Truving. I wanted to come here. So I did."

"Fuck off!" the Warden spat. "Did you blow that hole in the wall all by yourself? It was those Chimeras! And who'd they belong to, eh? Tell me!"

That was restricted information.

'He not only knew about my entry,' Artur realized, 'but also the method.'

The flames of vengeance burning within Artur flared.

'Who betrayed me?'

"I'm done with you," the Warden said in an annoyed tone.

Artur tightened his claws around the knight's neck. "We'll be done when I say so—"

Darius Hooks threw Artur off of him, as if brushing off a feather pillow, then climbed to his boots with his armor clanging against itself.

Artur landed five paces from him, stunned at the show of sheer strength by the Slayer.

No wonder they called him "The Might of the East."

'I had him pinned.'

Or so he'd thought.

'Is this what I was missing?'

The Warden, with his longsword still sheathed, pointed to the side at a dark spot near the base of one of the watchtowers on the city walls.

"I covered for you and this is how you repay me?" Hooks hissed.

Artur glanced where the knight pointed, expecting some kind of trick.

But there was no deception waiting.

Only three corpses laying splattered at the foot of the watchtower.

"Just get out of my sight," Hooks said with a sigh. "I'll deal with you some other time."

Artur eyed the Warden with increasing suspicion. "Who do you serve?"

"Wh?" Hooks was taken aback. "You telling me you haven't figured out yet?"

The knight snorted behind his helmet. "So this is what they call false advertisement, eh?

"You were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you stand, Dragonclaw, wondering who your mysterious savior serves.

"I didn't want to judge you off your looks, but you're not doing much to save that.

"The Mutilator: young, dumb, and full of—"

"Is it her?" Artur asked simply.

"Of course it's her," Darius Hooks said with a snort. "Who else would it be? We serve the same master, you dimwit!"

The knight stretched his arms out. "The one true Queen of the Last Lands."

Hook's strength had stunned Artur.

But his allegiance had utterly shocked him.

To think Sabine Spinetamer, another Forsaken Mutant like Artur, had the Warden of one of the Safe Seven on her leash all this time, working as her spy in Truving, was nothing short of astounding.

Darius Hooks wasn't blocking Artur's exit; the Warden was making sure he escaped without alerting the watchtowers.

Pushing fellow city keepers off to their deaths was one way of proving to whom his loyalties truly belonged.

"The Queen had entrusted your escape to me," Hooks revealed, finally drawing his longsword.

"But you seem quite eager for a fight. So let me put you in your place, little freak."

"Your queen wouldn't like it," Artur reminded the knight.

"You don't know what she likes. You swore to her just recently."

"I didn't," Artur clarified. "She's not my queen. I don't work for anyone. Not even her. We shared a common interest, so we made a deal."

"Oh," Hooks said with a chuckle. "It sure starts that way, trust me. But soon, you'll be one of her many pawns. Just another Queen's pet."

Artur raised a brow. "Like you?"

Darius Hooks paused, before closing in on him with his longsword gripped tightly.

"It will look suspicious for the Warden of Truving to not put up a fight against a Forsaken Mutant who managed to infiltrate the city he is sworn to protect."

The Might of the East charged at Artur with his longsword pulled back.

"So don't mind if I kill you, Dragonclaw, but you're not getting past me with all your freaky limbs still attached to your mutated body!"