4.3 - Adam

  I should’ve taken only the sword from that dog. Smearing his odor on my skin was too much.

  The humans’ escape had yet to be noticed.The creatures’ sharp senses must have been dulled by whatever celebration had taken place during the night.

  But they were about to be found out.

  Adam would make sure of that.

  Make sure chaos ensued.

  The central campfire came into view.

  He pulled out the MPPTL and fitted it with a plasma grenade.

  Aimed at the center of the fire — pulled the trigger.

  Plasma grenades had a smaller radius than other anti-infantry variants, but in this case the device was perfect. Like Ars Arcum, plasma grenade melted metal, crumbled concrete, turned flesh to ash, blood to vapor.

  But Adam had chosen the bonfire as his target for a specific reason: the large amount of firewood gathered around it.

  The grenade crackled — then exploded into white light.

  When the light faded fire was raining from above like a small volcano had erupted.

  Flaming debris scattered through the camp, igniting any tent it touched.

  Hell broke loose in seconds.

  The enemies closest to the explosion died instantly.

  Those farther away caught fire and flailed, running or rolling, desperate to smother the flames devouring their skin.

  —Noise filled the air.

  Shouting. Howling. Inhuman cries. The dull sound the Jaarts emitted from their mouths — their sonar — rose from every corner of the camp as the humanoids poured out from their homes.

  The stage was set.

  Hostiles: 6

  No need to hide anymore.

  Energy flowed into iron.

  The sword began to glow — red-hot, its edge crackling with lightning.

  Then it lunged straight at the two guards outside the Jaarmuth’s tent.

  Ars Arcum: Incinerate.

  Struck by metal, fire, and electricity vessels burst with blood boiling. The enemies were torn apart from both outside and inside.

  Hostiles: 4

  Raising output: 8%

  With the weapon now kept low in both hands, Adam advanced

  Ars Arcum: Incinerate.

  A single horizontal slash — three more fell with a flash of lightning.

  The last one, slower — Adam’s hand grabbed his face.

  Incinerate.

  Energy surged from his fingertips.

  The creature convulsed. Then stopped.

  He let the smoldering body drop.

  Ars Arcum was a cruel Alloy.

  But it was also undoubtedly powerful — and, above all, versatile.

  The Alloy allowed his body to generate high-voltage electricity through his nervous system.

  Over time, Adam’s body had adapted to it. He had become resistant to shock and high temperatures, for example.

  For the way he used it, Adam had conceptually divided Ars Arcum into two forms: inner and outer.

  The inner form let him direct electricity into specific muscles, forcing them to contract with strength and speed far beyond what willpower alone could produce.

  Efficient, too — even 1% output was enough to empower a sword swing.

  Bio-engineered instinct and more than two-and-a-half centuries of practice had turned those small adjustments into pure reflex.

  The outer form instead let him project electricity beyond his body — not precisely, but with devastating effects.

  That was probably the more proper way to use the Alloy, as Hephaistos had engineered it.

  But to Adam that outside was more often his sword or an enemy he was in contact with than open air.

  If he had trained it properly, he knew he could have used it in other ways too.

  But — out of defiance — Adam didn't.

  That was probably the reason why Ars Arcum came with severe drawbacks too.

  Too much electricity in his muscles — and they tore. Too much output — and his nervous system would be damaged.

  The Alloy demanded control.

  To him restraint too.

  Pushing too far bore consequences — heavy ones.

  The day he acquired Ars Arcum flared into his head.

  He’d woken up in a pool of blood.

  That Thing had already embedded the Alloy in his DNA. He’d barely avoided his body breaking.

  His whole nervous system pulsed like it needed to split — every cell begging to expand.

  But Adam had endured, adapted. Gained control.

  Hostiles: 1

  Suggested action: Intercept.

  The sword moved the moment the system flashed the warning — the iron of his sword clashed with multiple blades.

  Threat: Evaluating.

  More attacks followed — fast.

  Ars Arcum: Incinerate.

  The enemy backed off before lightning could struck it.

  Adam did the same, skidding on his feet across the burning ground.

  “There you are,” he grinned.

  —Jaarmuth.

  The figure before him was that of a graceful feline predator with pale skin.

  Taller than him — about two meters. Slender.

  Her skin looked stretched tight over the flesh beneath, only her back was covered by short fur.

  Long arms, nearly reaching the ground.

  Reverse-jointed legs — slender but powerful.

  Her whole figure appeared skeletal, especially the limbs. But her body wasn't frail.

  Corded with chiseled muscle, it was built for speed and agility.

  Hands and feet were disproportionate. They clashed against an otherwise well-balanced figure.

  Too long. Fingers too thick.

  They were her weapons.

  Long, retractable claws extended from the four split fingers of each hand and foot. The blades that had struck him.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Adam met her gaze — hollow eye sockets with deep blue irises at their bottom stared back.

  Jaarmuth had the face of an enraged predator.

  At the end of a long and flexible neck, was a small head with enormous bat-like ears — longer and larger than those of the Jaarts.

  The visage resembled a skull — protruding bones with thin skin stretched over them.

  Like Jaarts, she had a short, flat nose with long vertical slits for nostrils. The mandible was thin and elongated, lined with canines too large to fit wholly inside her mouth.

  In stark contrast, a long brown mane gracefully draped over her right shoulder, flowing down her back, decorated with braids and metal rings.

  The mother of these hunters — as Skyros had called her — was not a simple beast.

  She wore armor too.

  Fine armor compared to what Adam had seen so far.

  A silver-toned metal breastplate, polished and etched with crude alien designs similar to those on the butchering altar.

  It left her abdomen bare, exposing the only soft feature on her body: six small breasts.

  Matching bracers and greaves covered her limbs.

  Just below her wide hips — nearly twice the width of her waist — a studded leather belt held a strip of red cloth over her groin.

  Raising output: 9%

  Adam redirected the energy he had poured into the sword to his own body, preparing for a battle of speed.

  The battlefield had become a raging fire already. Almost all the tents were burning.

  “Let’s see how strong you really are,” Adam muttered.

  With only one hand gripping the hilt, the blade lunged forward.

  The exchange of blows that followed was faster than Adam expected. Human eyes wouldn’t have been able to follow it.

  Jaarmuth parried with one hand — instantly counterattacked with the other.

  The sword deflected in turn, then slashed. The creature dodged before striking eight times in the span of a second.

  —Pain.

  Adam’s side was cut. Two claws had slipped through.

  They were matched in speed. But her claws and arms together were longer than his reach.

  Raising output: 12%

  Lightning flickered across Adam’s skin before sinking deep into the flesh.

  His speed spiked.

  The creature’s ears rose. She sensed the danger.

  Adam pressed the attack — caught her wrist with one hand as Jaarmuth stepped back.

  The sword arced upward aiming to sever the limb.

  From below, more claws surged.

  —A kick.

  The enemy’s foot snapped forward, hitting Adam’s chest.

  He let go of the wrist to avoid a deeper wound and was flung backward, landing on his feet.

  He briefly checked the the impact point.

  Blood flowed from the tears left by her claws — straight through the bulletproof vest.

  Adam then glanced at his sword.

  The still red-hot edge had already started to warp.

  “What are those claws even made of?”

  He shrugged off the vest. No point in armor.

  If things got serious it would have burned anyway.

  The curved sword swung, readying for another exchange.

  “Don’t worry,” he taunted, “we can go on all day.”

  The wounds had already sealed. And the creature — she seemed to understand.

  Replied even.

  “Smikja klotach, ut-kur!”

  Her voice came out high-pitched and hoarse, speaking the same guttural tongue of the other Jaarts.

  A moment later, a flying ball emerged and approached her — the source of the magnetic field he had detected.

  A Gaider-Tabori’s Debris with three claw marks carved across its casing. Those scratches were no doubt Jaarmuth’s doing.

  That must have been what Bluttar had meant by talking circle.

  The AI soon drifted toward him.

  “Spiteful greeting: Oh, hello, Alter-human. My name is Boris, and I was the AI in charge of managing the frozen zoo you came out of. The Parvus prison block”

  Adam listened without removing his gaze from his enemy.

  “Explanation: I am currently forced into the servitude of this creature to ensure the continuation of my functions. Request: If you could kindly eliminate her, I would be forever grateful. Clarification: Sadly, I must still report your escape to my superiors so they may proceed with your termination.”

  Adam exhaled in annoyance. Skyros was almost entertaining compared to this machine.

  “What does she want?” he asked evenly.

  “Explanation: The reason I begrudgingly approached you, Alter-human, was to convey a message from my current, despicable master,” the machine replied.

  “The message is the following. Quote: Surrender, Hallowed. I will spare your life and keep you as my personal slave. You are strong. Our offspring will be the new First Children leading the pack hunts.”

  Adam blinked — looked at the machine, dumbfounded.

  “Are you sure you translated that correctly?”

  “Reproachful statement: Insolent primate, you are as ignorant as my foul persecutor if you question my translation abilities.”

  Adam moved his eyes from Jaarmuth and onto the metal sphere — before he could picture anything he would regret.

  “Explanation: although disgusting and in clear violation of UN.SY. protocols, the meaning behind each word I conveyed is correct. Warning: Proposing Alter-human procreation is a serious offense.”

  In this case, Adam had to agree with that last warning.

  “Question: How do you wish to respond?”

  “No.”

  “Overjoyed Statement: Praise be to the Union Leader, Alter-human! The sight of you disgusting creatures breeding might have caused my system to force a memory wipe!”

  The Gaider-Tabori sounded a little too happy while saying it.

  “Suggestion: to solve the matter in the most efficient way, Alter-human, may I advise you take your own life—”

  “No suggestions needed,” Adam spat before that obnoxious ball could go on.

  “Disappointed statement: Then I shall simply convey the message.”

  The flying ball zipped away, returning to Adam’s opponent to deliver his response.

  As soon as the machine finished speaking, Jaarmuth let out a furious hiss and lashed out at the device — sending it bouncing and clattering across the ground.

  Adam glanced around: the battle had already blown out fully across the camp.

  The humans had been found out. They were holding their own — barely.

  The chaos was quickly shifting toward one of the exits.

  Skyros’s submachine gun hummed through the noise. He’d been spotted too.

  Adam walked forward — sword spinning lazily in one hand.

  Jaarmuth, radiating fury, opened her mouth.

  *GLUCK—clak-clak-clak-clak-clak-clak-clak-clak.*

  The sonar washed over him. Crawled underneath his skin like a probe.

  “Search as much as you want,” he said. “The more you dig, the sooner you’ll understand.”

  Now close enough, Adam shifted into a guard stance holding the sword slightly above the forehead, wrists crossed.

  Jaarmuth growled low — then slid one foot back, preparing to leap.

  He did the same.

  Raising output: 15%

  “Round two.”

  — Metal clashed with claws.

  A storm of blows in seconds.

  But after a mere three-percent increase in the Alloy, now Jaarmuth struggled to keep pace.

  She was being driven back.

  The sword’s scorching point scraped her breastplate.

  She parried.

  Another strike and a cut bloomed across her abdomen. The humnaoid dodged, but her left ear was sliced off by the returning arc.

  She stumbled — Adam pressed.

  An upward slash: her right arm was severed at the joint, blood sizzling into a crimson brushstroke across the ground.

  The enemy shrieked but didn’t falter — she feinted.

  Jaarmuth lashed out with her remaining hand, but before the strike landed her hips spun, snapping out a kick.

  “That won’t work again.”

  Adam’s sword came down, intercepting the attack — then, in turn, he drove the enemy back with a kick.

  The sword came down again on her skull.

  —It shattered.

  Her foot had parried the killing blow, shattering two-thirds of the curved blade clean off.

  Jaarmuth resumed the attack with teeth and claws.

  The remainder of the sword caught the bite, then Adam pulled the beast closer.

  He met the creature with a punch to the face and a knee to the gut in rapid succession.

  The last one sent the enemy sent flying into a nearby burning tent.

  Adam clicked his tongue, eying what was left of the looted weapon.

  “Guess this thing couldn’t handle much.”

  He dropped the still hot broken sword — used the pause to briefly scan the battlefield.

  His senses sharpened.

  At least half the humans with fading or no pulse — dead.

  Thunder from outside the camp — Alba had opened fire.

  The fighting had spilled outward.

  Skyros was on the move. Six hostiles chased him.

  “Time to end this,” Adam muttered.

  Suggested action:—

  He already knew what to do.

  His gaze fell on something gleaming amid the flames. Sharp iron. Bloodied.

  He moved toward it — grabbed the handle and raised it.

  The butchering knife would do for tonight’s job.

  Adam would give Jaarts a taste of their medicine.

  His eyes snapped back to his opponent.

  Jaarmuth had risen to her feet. She was in bad shape.

  Parts of her skin scorched red from the fire. The stumps of her arm and ear still bled freely where the heat of the greatsword had not cauterized them.

  Her mane was a blackened mess now — clumped and burned.

  The creature coughed blood and looked at the weapon in his hand — that massive, sword-like knife.

  Her ears flattened on the top of her head. Eyes widened.

  Fear — it was the same on every planet.

  Jaarmuth let out a tremendous cry — then started shouting, her voice cracked and raw:

  “Kinrath! Jaartrath! Einjaarth! Jo wulf’n!”

  The words rang through the camp like war drums.

  At once, the Jaarts began abandoning their prey, leaving behind the humans they’d been chasing or killing — sprinting in Jaarmuth’s aid.

  With weapons raised, they swarmed between Adam and the agonizing creature, roaring and scanning him with their sonar.

  — An instant later they charged.

  Hostiles: 15

  This was no duel anymore.

  He had no more time.

  No need to hold back.

  Ars Arcum: Incinerate.

  Lightning cut through the press — cries erupted. Adam charged in turn.

  Cleaving. Burning. Severing. Shocking.

  Metal flashed and clashed. Blood sprayed and boiled.

  Not only his enemies’.

  Adam was hit — multiple times. Never flinched.

  Florentem Carnis: Rebirthing.

  Her Alloy tailored his wounds faster than the crude weapons could open them.

  He kept the slaughter up: no anger or fury. Only purpose and rhythm.

  —Claws.

  One hand gripped his arm, resisting the current that laced his skin.

  More followed. Tearing him — digging. Dragging him down. Trying to pin Adam to the ground.

  The largest Jaart yet approached.

  Second only to Jaarmuth in size — but broader. A black mane. Furious eyes.

  A greatsword raised high.

  An execution.

  Raising output: 20%

  Ars Arcum: Incinerate.

  A surge of electricity struck — the air burst into flames along with the bodies clinging to Adam.

  Free again, he rose through the steaming blood.

  The ardent knife spun in a single, clean cut. The greatsword-wielder’s already scorched head dropped in the flames below.

  Jaarmuth alone now stood before him.

  Adam took a few steps toward the defeated enemy, now dropping to her knees before him in a submission pose.

  “It’s you — it’s really you. The commander.”

  A voice called out from behind.

  Adam’s gaze flicked to a naked man.

  Skyros.

  “Six o’clock. Woods. How was that unclear?”

  He turned his full focus back on Jaarmuth.

  “This will be the last time I disobey an order, I swear, Commander.”

  “Have we met before?” Adam asked.

  “No. But the stories were true,” Skyros said.

  “ An Alter-human who strode the battlefield cutting down Martian automata with a sword. Eclipse’s leader and one of its three founders — Zweihander.”

  There was... poetry in his voice. But no more upper-class arrogance.

  “Quite the shift in tone. Even the way you speak now matches mine more. Convenient, darling.”

  Adam smirked. “I think we have much to discuss. But first, we should tie up the loose ends.”

  “I’ll answer all your questions, Commander,” Skyros said, bowing his head. “As for the reason I didn’t leave... well — there was none. You killed all of them. The rest fled.”

  Adam glanced around the burning camp. He couldn’t count the bodies even if he wanted. Most of them were not whole.

  But he knew — at least twenty-five corpses lay scattered.

  Half the settlement.

  The rest — females, cubs, and cowards — had escaped into the woods.

  Hostiles: 1

  Suggested action: Terminate.

  For an instant, he was distracted.

  Jaarmuth lunged. Not at him — at Skyros.

  Her only way out was a hostage.

  The knife moved. A swing from behind — waist level.

  Her body struck the ground in two halves before the attack could land.

  Adam moved in to finish it. The upper half still clawed its way toward Skyros, screeching.

  Merciful, the knife came down on Jaarmuth's head, splitting her skull.

  “There was a reason for you to leave after all,” said Adam, walking past Skyros.

  “Let’s go. We’ll come back when the fires are out.”