Knights Apocalyptica

“By the spirits, what is this place?

Why does it reek of piss, and reek of abandoned dreams?

Never before have I laid foot in Vega, and never will I again.”

- Rise-Sun, Journal Entry, (292, 3rd Era)

Each step down the sewer was a battle inside. Erec wanted to unleash, to let his anger out at this situation, everything he'd imagined in being a Knight, from the fighting to the strife. None of it included being taken, hostage. The way the steel felt binding his hands, or the stranger dragged him by the collar.

Infuriating.

He tried to distract himself by pulling up his Blessing notification.

Strength Advancement: Rank E - Tier 7 → Rank E - Tier 8

Vigor Advancement: Rank F - Tier 9 → Rank E - Tier 1

This level of growth was starting to get to him, to scare him in a way. He’d broken through a bottleneck, and his Strength seemed to be pushing up close to the next one. Sure, it was all E-ranks, and his Mysticism and Faith remained at the bottom rung, but…

His power escalated further and further with each fight. He couldn’t explain why, though.

Was Fury pushing him? Was his body adapting to the Strength it temporarily provided, or was it trying to stop him from tearing himself apart?

Unfortunately, as distracting as the advancements were, he got dragged back to his physical reality. The unfortunate feeling of a man dragging him by the collar.

If he used Fury, could he break the steel binding?

And if he did, would it be quick enough to defeat the man before he drew his gun?

His kidnapper spat on the ground and coughed, shoving Erec around to give a lopsided grin. "Aint too far now, steel boy. Hey, tell me, they gonna pay well, or will I get to blow a hole in your skull? Wanna know what to expect."

"If you did that, you'd die." Erec gritted his teeth and growled. Was the man trying to provoke him? Or a sadist?

"Aw, shit, I would, huh? Well, the thing is, I think I know this place better than y'all." He waved out towards the stretching network of the sewer. Dark, except for a small lamp hanging from the man's hip. Being this close, Erec couldn't tell what smelled worse. The ancient shit-pit or the fact this man hadn't cleaned himself off in years. His kidnapper's hair was a greasy mangled mess, and every now and again, the awful matted black hair would rub against Erec—leaving an almost tangible layer of oil.

"You have no idea how strong we are."

"Don't matter for shit when they aint gonna be able to follow me; by tomorrow, I'd be long and gone. 'Sides. The real trick is you give 'em your demands; if things don't go your way, then I just drag you back quick like, outta sight, and then pop a bullet in your skull. Then I'm free to be free, yeah?"

"What do you get out of this? Why are you even threatening me to begin with?" Erec suppressed the inferno twisting in him. Maybe this conversation wasn't helping to quell that inner anger, but he couldn't stop his mouth from moving.

A real problem. One he'd contended with for a long time. Erec started to count in his head.

[Administering sedatives. Keep it cool, buckaroo. Tense negotiations require stable minds.]

…The drugs helped a bit. His head slackened as suppressing the fire inside became easier.

“Matter of fact is, you steel fucks are a scourge on the wastes. Got lots of loot, and aint like this is the first time y’all tempted me. But it is the first time I got such a good shot to teach a lesson.” He spun the gun out of the holster and set the barrel between Erec’s eyes. “See this? Real pretty, aint it? Aint just for Rifters. Naw, naw. The thing is, when you think about it, are we really so different from those things? They walk into our world, but it aint to kill people, naw. It’s survival. They wanna live, only, we’re like ants to them.” He chuckled.

“That’s untrue,” Erec said quietly. If he wanted to pull the trigger, he would’ve done it long ago.

“Aw, shit, it is? Shocked. But I’ll tell you the truth, kid, because I hate that look in your eyes—too much like when I was a lil brat. We aint just a pest to those Rifters, naw. We’re pests to another too. So tell me, why let that man walk by with a bag of food when your stomach’s empty? Why shouldn’t you feed yourself?” The gun barrel left Erec’s skull, for the side of it to tap against his kidnapper’s head. He gave a wicked yellow smile. “Can’t help but reckon they think the same, only, instead of the guy having a sack of food you want, he’s a sack of food.”

Erec squinted at him, frowning. “There is such a thing as intentional evil in monsters.” How else could he explain the coordinated effort to destroy him in the trial? At the encampment? Of those targeted nightmares and the killing intent that radiated off the white stag that lived in his and Boldwick’s dreams?

The man paused and shook his head. “Sure. But, the thing is. There’s intentional evil in people too.” He backhanded Erec, and at the same time released his grip. Erec hit the ground and stared up at the gun pointing at him again.

The inferno strained, and the cage’s bars bent. He counted in his head, heart hammering as this moment came; thank the Goddess for the sedatives… But… Had the man given in? Decided he wasn’t worth the trouble? Was his only chance to take a risk on the one thing to doom him? With the drugs, could he use Fury quick enough for a chance to save himself?

"Say I killed you now. Say I wanted to shut you up because you're pissing me off. End you because you're a fuck'n thorn, pissing in their breeches, brat. Would someone call that evil? Say I wanted to kill you because I don't like the look of your fucking face—or those angry eyes you got? Say that I thought the world be brighter if you died right now, it'd be real easy."

"…Such a thing would have no honor."

"Honor?" The man seemed baffled, gun held as steady, as if were clamped by a steel vice. "Where'n the hell does honor fit in with life or death? Good or evil? We're talk'n about survival, doing what it takes to get what you want." He grit his teeth, his eyes widening the whites laced with a thin red veins. "Who the fuck cares about honor!"

Now the gun shook, as did the finger on the trigger.

Erec took a steadying breath; his cheek still stung from the blow. Was there too much distance? That gun—such a brutal weapon. It shouldn’t have the power it did, but Erec couldn’t tell what made it special. From the limited knowledge he was allowed about such weapons, they were an old-world relic trapped away in lost facilities, forbidden and useless against the strength and hides of most monsters.

Still, plenty enough to kill a weak human, though, and that gun would’ve shattered through his Vallum Armor.

“I don’t know,” Erec answered honestly, defeated. He couldn’t fight this man. Not now, not like this.

But, one day, he’d pay this back.

The gun sunk. His captor spit on him, a glob of yellow that landed right on his still-stinging face. “That’s what I fuck’n thought, life aint got no reason, no good, no honor. You do what it takes and get what you can. Lucky your friends got something I want, makes it worth dragging your ass to them for a payout.”

After a long moment and complete silence, the bastard pulled him back up and pushed him further down the sewer tunnel—only, now he kept the gun pointed at Erec’s back.

They must be getting close.

He yanked Erec up by the collar and pushed him forward down the sewer tunnel—having him lead the way as a gun pointed at his back. They must be getting close to wherever the Verdant Oak was.

[I’ll be keeping you sedated to suppress Fury from triggering. It is currently fighting back; retain your internal focus on control. However, I have good news. They didn’t account for my remote operation of the Armor—his partner has been disabled, and I’ve moved your Armor somewhere else in the sewer.]

Disabled? Did VAL mean killed—but—a sudden horror dawned on him.

My bag. The last letter from his mother was in it. Since the orders were to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice, the bag was left on his Armor. But that was before he'd gotten kidnapped; no doubt this bastard already went through it.

They reached the new hideout of the Verdant Oaks shortly after, a barricade checkpoint in the sewers with knights in Armor guarding a tunnel. Boldwick’s underground retreat must’ve worked, while Erec had no clue of their condition, his captor seemed to know right where they’d went.

The man swagged up—the Knights tensed, grabbing their weapons as he shoved Erec proud and center, and between them all.

“Gimme someone to bargain with, and only a single person or this kid’s head is popped.” the man called out—before pointing the weapon towards the ceiling of the sewer and discharging it. A loud concussive blast erupted, deafening Erec’s ear even as a portion of the already weakened ceiling above collapsed into a rubble pile. The manic bastard holding him laughed as he pressed the gun back to Erec’s head.

The Knights exchanged looks; one ran off quickly down the tunnels, and the other removed their hand from their weapon and raised it as a symbol of peace. “Easy now, easy—“

“Sorry, I don’t talk with small fies; keep your fuck’n lips sealed, and don’t waste my time.” He jerked the gun towards the Knight. “Bam,” he said as the gun pointed in their direction before he pressed the barrel back to Erec’s head. “Too slow, wow, would’a gotcha.” He laughed.

The Knight kept quiet but drew his weapon while maintaining a safe distance.

Erec wasn’t sure how long he sat there, his attention focused inward as he suppressed the fire. It wasn’t easy; even with VAL’s help, his limbs started to feel heavy. But with the guy dragging him around, it wasn’t like he needed to hold himself up. No, he could divert all of his focus on not losing control at the wrong time and costing him his life.

Had the priests been right? Were all outside of their walls sinners, people cast out because they were capable of only evil? Such a thought was hard to revoke, given this. Though, it didn’t sink right. That would’ve meant his mom was one of their number, a woman on equal par with this man in the eyes of the church.

There wasn’t a way in hell the two had any similarities whatsoever.

His grip faltered as the fire began to build; the drugs over the last half of an hour wore away at the discipline. Deep down, he wanted to fade away into oblivion, to resolve this and let what might happen, happen.

“Who are you?” Boldwick strode down the dingy gray sewer tunnel, a sword in his hand as a harsh white LED light flooded the scene from a visor on his helmet. “And why the hell do you have my initiate?”

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