Chapter 65: Seriously Badass!
Surround House Hurst?
Dace shook his battered head as hard as he could.
"What did you just say?"
"Who are you?"
"Antares Command listens to you?"
His voice had lost all shape.
Nearby, Hector Tyren had gone gray in the face. His whole body shook so violently he looked like he was trying to dance.
"It is over..."
"We hit a wall..."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Warmth spread through the front of his trousers.
"Who am I?"
Joren did not even bother looking at Dace again.
"You are not worth knowing."
He raised his right hand and pressed two fingers together like a blade.
Buzz.
Brilliant golden protective force gathered at his fingertips and sharpened into a crescent of light.
"No... wait..."
The madness in Dace’s remaining eye vanished the moment death brushed against him.
"I do not want to die..."
Slash.
Gold flashed once.
The plea ended.
His oversized, misshapen head rolled into a pile of rubble, the terror still frozen across its face.
[Ding! Rank Four mutated Fiend killed.]
[Bloodstars obtained: 1500.]
The system notification rang clearly in Joren’s mind.
He stepped over the corpse without expression.
"Ah!"
Hector, who had been pretending to be dead nearby, finally broke.
He crawled to Joren’s feet, heedless of the blood on the ground, and began hammering his forehead against the concrete.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The skin split almost at once.
"Spare me!"
"Please spare me!"
"Dace forced me into it!"
"That monster made me do everything!"
"Why would I ever want to hurt my own students?"
"He threatened me! He said he would eat my entire family if I refused!"
"My lord, you have to believe me! I am a victim too!"
Snot and tears ran down his face.
He even pointed at Dace’s corpse and cursed it, desperate to scrape every last stain from his own hands.
That was human nature.
When death stood close enough, family and honor became empty words.
Joren stopped and looked down at the man who had always carried himself like the picture of virtue.
"Forced you?"
"So Dace forced you to expel me too?"
Golden force flickered over Joren’s fingers again.
Hector’s pupils shrank.
His mouth opened.
"No!"
Gold swept past.
Silence returned.
Joren released his Mental Force once more.
It spread like a tide across the entire campus, then rolled beyond the walls and into the surrounding streets.
There were more.
In the shadows around the school.
Among the trees beyond the perimeter wall.
On the rooftops of several buildings.
Dozens of weak but hostile presences remained hidden there.
House Hurst patrols and lookouts.
The commotion had already alerted them.
Some were drawing weapons.
Some were making calls.
Others had begun moving toward the walls, ready to flee.
"You came all this way."
"Stay."
Joren gave a thought.
Thirty six nearly invisible ripples shot into the night.
[Voidshard Array].
An S Class psionic weapon.
Not a single blade disturbed the air.
With their unusual material and Joren’s precise control, they disappeared completely into the darkness.
...
Outside the wall, high in the branches of an old tree, a House Hurst Awakened Warrior in camouflage watched the playground through binoculars.
The instant Dace lost his head, his face changed.
"Shit. This is bad. I need to report it."
He lowered the binoculars and turned to jump down.
A faint breeze touched his neck.
Cool.
Then the world began to spin.
He saw a familiar headless body topple from the branch, blood spraying behind it.
That was...
My body?
At the same time, on the roof of a classroom building, two snipers settled behind their rifles and aimed toward Joren.
"Target locked. Do we fire?"
"Hold. Wait for orders."
Puff.
Puff.
A bloody hole appeared between each man’s brows.
Neither had time to cry out.
They collapsed over the hot barrels of their rifles.
At the rear gate, a group of enforcers rushed toward the school.
They were halfway through the charge when transparent lines crossed the air before them.
Like death drawing a bow across violin strings.
Slice.
Slice.
Slice.
More than a dozen men kept running for another step.
Then their bodies came apart and scattered across the ground in pieces.
...
Ten seconds.
That was all it took.
Joren never moved from where he stood.
The thirty six blades of the [Voidshard Array] hunted like invisible assassins, while [Spider Sense] served as his radar.
Guided by Mental Force, they erased every hostile presence within five hundred meters.
No gunfire.
No clash of steel.
Only leaves whispering in the wind, covering the final sounds of dying men.
Transparent streaks returned through the night.
Joren straightened his collar and turned toward the students, who had long since gone rigid.
A mild smile appeared on his face.
"It is over."
"Go home."
Kest turned and ran for the school gate.
After a dozen meters, he stopped.
He spun around and shouted at Joren’s back.
"Joren!"
"That was seriously badass!"
Then he vanished into the night without looking back.
Joren remained where he was, watching him go.
...
Alkaid Authority headquarters.
Second underground level.
The private cafeteria of Antares Command was filled with a rich aroma that made the stomach stir.
High rank Voidbeast meat had a scent all its own.
At a table in the corner, Brann held a stainless steel basin larger than his face and shoveled chunks of red meat into his mouth.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Sweat covered his forehead.
The empty sleeve on his left side swayed with every movement.
"Slow down. No one is taking it from you."
Across from him, Alar sat with one leg crossed over the other, spinning a gleaming dagger between his fingers.
Brann had no time to answer.
Only after scraping up the last trace of broth did he set down the basin.
A long belch followed.
Comfortable.
Far too comfortable.
He rubbed the faint warmth spreading through his stomach.
"Officers..."
Brann wiped the grease from his mouth, still awkward beneath the gratitude and respect in his eyes.
"Do not call us officers."
Jazz finally spoke.
Built like a bear, he was working his way through an entire roast lamb, bones included.
"You helped Joren."
"Call me Jazz."
"And I am Alar."
Alar grinned and poured him a cup of pale green drink.
Brann hesitated.
"Can I ask something?"
"What exactly does Joren do now?"
Alar lifted an eyebrow.
"What do you think?"
Brann lowered his voice, looking as though he were discussing a crime.
"Do not tell me he really has the Frontier Marshal’s favor."
"I have heard important people always keep a few trusted men close."
Alar nearly spat out his drink.
Even Jazz stopped chewing.
For the first time, the corner of that permanently frozen face twitched.
Brann was about to press for more when a piercing alarm tore through the cafeteria.
The warm lights died.
Blood red warning lights flooded the room.
Every member of Antares Command stopped moving.
Some had been drinking soup.
Others had been laughing.
None needed a second signal.
The black tactical watches on their wrists began vibrating at once.
Then a cold voice sounded from every device.
"All units of Antares Command, move out."
"Surround House Hurst in Norcrest."
"Not even a fly gets out."
Brann knew that voice.
That was Joren.
Hundreds of Antares Command elites rose at the same moment.
The motion stirred a gust through the cafeteria, sending napkins flying from the tables.
No one questioned the order.
"Move!"
"Team A, seal the perimeter around the House Hurst estate!"
"Team B, secure the main roads!"
"Team C, with me!"
Short commands moved through the room.
The warriors who had been eating moments before now surged toward the exits like a black flood, their eyes sharp and hungry.
Alar and Jazz exchanged a glance.
Something bright had entered both their eyes.
They turned to join the flow.
Then Alar stopped.
He looked back at Brann, who remained seated, lost between confusion and disbelief.
Red warning light washed across Alar’s face.
"Brann."
"Joren is the current Frontier Marshal."
Brann went completely still.
"He..."
"He is...?"