All three were hit, but they took it differently.
The flowy-haired teleporter had half of her head shorn off and teleported away reflexively, while the brutes took the hit in the chest, flinging them through the back wall of the building and into the deserted parking lot.
I rose from my seat and slipped on my helmet, sending my knife into Cursed Inventory before stepping forward. The air whooshed past me as I sailed to the end of the hall, coming to a swift stop as I passed through the hole the brutes had made.
They had torn up the abandoned lot behind the club and were already recovering with barely a flesh wound. Their clothes were thoroughly ruined. They had been wearing suits, of all things, and they shared features. Tall, square-jawed, well over six feet, with dark hair. They were likely brothers.
I needed to switch tactics if I wanted to end this fight quickly.
Leaping down from my perch, I called on Earth Manipulation and attacked with a new trick I had learned from fighting Shelim. Earth Burial.
Asphalt shot up at an angle, wrapping around their limbs, and a heartbeat later, the ground gave way, pulling them deep into the earth—so deep that it would take an ungodly amount of strength and leverage to free themselves.
When I was done, the parking lot looked like a construction site. I was down a tenth of my curse energy, but I did not leave immediately.
Earth Burial was a finisher move, but I had a feeling it would not be enough, and I was right.
The pressure hit first, then everything went black.
Loose dirt collapsed inward with a crushing force, slamming into my shoulders and helmet, driving me to my knees.
Then sound vanished instantly, replaced by a suffocating granular silence. Soil packed into my mouth and nose. Grit scraped against my bare eyes and on my skin beneath my armor.
Did I just...
The weight was total, intimate, invasive, and for a single terrifying moment, I was completely powerless. Utterly human.
Those fuckers. They teleported me into the earth, didn't they?
I flooded my limbs with Curse Energy, reinforcing muscle and bone, but the earth did not yield. It compressed. My ribs creaked, my ears popped from the depth shift.
Then a fist crashed into my nose in the dark. The impact was dull, but it was clear that I wasn't alone down here. Curse energy started to build up around his fists, obviously in preparation for some kind of attack, and I lashed out with dismantles, shredding through flesh in the confined space.
Warm blood mixed with dirt, turning the dirt around us slick and metallic. He screamed. My attacks hacked through dense layers of muscle and even split bone, but I could feel the residual energy of my strikes being pushed back and expunged.
I felt a whisper of that strange pressure again, and then he was gone, replaced by an energy-soaked pebble, pushed into my chest.
My mind worked quickly, and I understood.
The first brute's technique let him swap places with objects carrying Cursed Energy. The second had some kind of energy blast.
Neither of them had been in the dossier I memorized.
On their own, neither sorcerer was impossible to handle, but together, armed with bodies that let them survive fatal wounds, mysterious meta abilities, and Grade One cursed energy reserves, they would be a challenge, even for a Leaguer.
I whispered the incantation for a barrier, and curse energy swept out of me, isolating the club and the parking lot from the rest of the world. I layered in a few helpful conditionals to keep the barrier fair. Only non-sorcerers.
Then I reversed my energy flow and flared Expanse. The soil around me detonated outward in a violent sphere of kinetic release, and darkness turned to light.
The parking lot was gone, as was the back half of the club. Dust and debris rained down in a slow arc. The brutes stood at the edge of the barrier, rapidly healing from numerous cuts. The confidence they had swaggered in with was gone from their eyes.
"You're him, aren't you?" Brute One—swapper—asked.
I did not answer. There was no point in telling a dead man.
I flicked my fingers, releasing two dismantles.
The first nearly took Swapper's hand. The second opened the linebacker's neck.
He staggered back, choking, before a strange energy erupted from him and wrapped around his body like a mechanical exosuit. He charged, and in two steps, he was inside my guard.
I swayed, letting his haymaker slip over my shoulder. Shrine flowed into my fist as I punched. Cleave split him in half, and the weight of the punch punted him hard into the barrier.
It was enough to crack it and displace the earth for dozens of yards.
I moved to finish him, but then I felt the pressure, and I was standing across the battlefield where Swapper used to be.
I pivoted instantly and fired a dismantle. Swapper grabbed Blaster and used his body to tank the shot. They shuffled back slightly from the impact, but Blaster recovered immediately, bringing his palms together and finally getting off the blast he had been dying to use. It was not aimed at me.
It was aimed at the barrier.
The energy ate at it until the barrier shattered. Swapper dropped Blaster. His palms were inches from touching when a bone spear went through his eye. I had flung it with a touch of Expanse on release, just like I had done with Ade.
I chased after it with a step boosted by Expanse as well, twisting as I came to a stop. My feet dragged up a shallow trench. Mini-expanses were something I had been practicing more of since I started sparring with Shelim.
Nearly a week later, I did not have to think about it. My Curse Energy control had risen to level nine, and I had copied Shelim's cursed technique, allowing me to channel electricity throughout my body and use it to accelerate my movements the way he did. I obviously kept that to myself.
It was better to let Shelim think I was limited to what I had already copied.
Blaster's fist came at me fast, but I had kept my senses on him.
He was mostly healed and screaming now as the barrier collapsed around us. I twisted around him, summoning a chain fashioned from bone. I wrapped it around his hand as I stepped behind him. With a swift pull, he was off his feet, and I bound his legs as well. Then I went for his other arm. Finally, I placed my hand on the back of his head.
He was shaking, even through his purple exosuit, and it made me hesitate.
"What did they tell you about me?" I asked.
"That you were the devil," he spat. "You turned against Crucible. You kept your talents to yourself instead of trying to better humanity."
His words sounded hollow and rehearsed.
"Did she force you into this, or were you stupid enough to volunteer?"
I heard him grind his teeth.
"What's the point?"
"Curiosity. You get to live a moment longer. Isn't that enough?"
"My mum was sick. The money was good, and the upgrades were better. My brother and I peaked in high school. We were only ever going to be has-been jocks. At least this way…"
"You stood a chance at leaving your mark," I finished.
It was tragic. If I were in his position, I might have made the same deals. The same mistakes.
"You did leave your mark," I said. "You saved your mother."
My cleave separated his head from his shoulders.
I let out a long breath. It was necessary, but I felt the weight every time. Letting him return alive to Artisan was never an option, and killing him swiftly was better than what I had done to Black Mask.
Those boys were decent. Better than most I had faced.
I sent them both to storage, rose to my feet, and surveyed the damage. People were staring now. A siren wailed in the distance, and it would not be long before someone arrived.
I raised a curtain and slipped behind a bend, sending my leather and bone armor into Cursed Inventory and leaving myself in under-armor clothes.
Loose joggers and a compression shirt.
I swapped my shoes for a pair of Nikes, selected a jacket, added shades and a wig, and blended into the growing crowd.
Reaching into my jacket, I pretended to search for my burner phone as I pulled it from my inventory.
I had a new message from Shelim.
Found what you've been looking for.
It brought a smile to my face. A small one. A part of me wanted to track down the bleeding teleporter, afraid she might still be alive, but it wasn't worth the risk of sticking around. And I wouldn't even know where to begin.
Read up to Chapter 145 on Patreon.com/artandcreativewriting