Wake of the Ravager

2/11 Bent remaining.

By the gods, I’m actually doing it, Cal thought, overlooking the dozen siege towers and their thousands of men that had been brought to a standstill. We just might make it.

In another  ten minutes or so, they could expect the runners to get back with reinforcements, and everyone currently on the wall could drag themselves to their bunks and sleep for a week.

You totally jinxed it.

There’s no such thing, Calvin thought, once again, reminding his wasps to only sting the blue men in the tall caves.

As time went by Calvin was getting more and more appreciative of minions who could think and adapt on their own rather than requiring constant control. Maybe I could-

“Damn good work,” the aging sergeant said, clapping Cal on the shoulder. “We’re looking at another problem, though.”

“What’s that?” Cal asked, glancing over.

“All these boys are holding off a Break, me included.” He pointed at a young man snoozing tucked up against the parapet. “Some more successfully than others, I might add.”

“Yeah, I feel it,” Cal said, noting the pressure behind his eyes. It wasn’t quite enough for him, he didn’t think, but the other survivors would definitely come away from today stronger than they were before. Cal looked down at the city and relief flooded his veins as he spotted a thick formation of Gadveran soldiers running down the main street to make it to the wall on time.

They were just coming into view, so they had maybe seven minutes left to go until they were relieved.

“Just tell them to hold on another-“ Calvin glanced back to the sergeant and saw that the man’s face was a mask of rage as he sank a wickedly sharp knife through Cal’s armor and into his stomach.

The sensation of steel sliding through his meat raised every hair on Cal’s body, followed an instant later by a staggering amount of pain.

Calvin felt something, like the sensation just before you caught a cold, a tickling in the back of his throat that moved down to his stomach. An instant later, it caught fire, and his vision narrowed to the snarling sergeant in front of him.

Your Will has begun digesting the foreign Bent, ETA 35 seconds. Hang in there, kid.

Cal ignored the meaningless words, and let out a howl of rage as he punched the sergeant in the face, causing the man to stagger away from him, clutching his bleeding nose.

Calvin reached into his pocket and gripped the inch-wide ball bearing.

Sense-Grafting.

1/11 Bent

With a thought, he moved his sense of touch and pain to the extremely tough ball, going blissfully numb.

Sense-Grafting has reached level 9!

Sense Grafting Level 9: Sight, hearing, touch, pain, smell, Taste, Balance. Self-only, 81ft range, 45 minutes.

Splitting.

0/11 Bent remaining.

Cal, with his grip still on the large ball bearing, used Splitting and Shaping to create a war-pick.

Cal caught the silvery weapon with his free hand, and while the sergeant was pulling his hands away from his face, Calvin introduced him to the hammer’s spike.

In the strangest sensation Calvin had ever experienced, he felt himself propel himself through the bastard’s brains. It was so unexpected that he let out a chuckle as he moved on to the next. Calvin’s sense of touch was on the pick spawned from the marble. Interesting.

The wall was in complete chaos, men fighting the closest person to themselves, while the wasps were swarming everywhere, biting and stinging Gadverans, Ilethans, each other, anyone who deserved it, and truly, they all did.

It would be rude not to join the melee, so Calvin caught another Gadveran in the back of the head, savoring the sensation of putting himself through someone.

I could get used to this, he thought as the man’s opponent locked eyes with him, charging forward with a snarl.

Calvin lunged forward to meet him, slamming his foot down on the other man’s and pinning it in place. Calvin leaned out of the way and the Ilethan floundered with a comical expression as he toppled to the ground.

Cal raised his pick up.

“Wai-“

Calvin swung it down, penetrating the man’s heart and lungs through the back of his ribcage, enjoying the squishy sensation the man’s organs made across his skin, especially his groin. Calvin resisted the urge to spike-fuck the squirming corpse, and instead searched for more potential warm homes for his phallic weapon, the exhultation of victory running through him in shivers.

I wonder if this is what fucking is like. Maybe I could use sense-grafting to be a little more specific with which areas have their sense of touch grafte-

Between one blink, Cal was a homicidal killing machine who equated penetrating people with his weapon to literally fucking them, and then all of a sudden, he wasn’t.

“What the-“

Will has reduced the Foreign Bent to below critical levels. Welcome Back.

Cal glanced at the three men he’d killed in a handful of seconds. Cal’s stomach wanted to flip and cover the stone with bile, but he didn’t have the luxury.

Another battle-crazed Gadveran emerged from the frantic melee, dragging a wounded leg behind him and fixing Calvin with a wide-eyed stare as he lunged forward.

“Taste me!” He shouted, wiping his slender sword with the blood oozing from his wound before lunging at Calvin. Despite his disgust and horror at the slaughter going on around him, Calvin’s training kicked in, leaving his mind free to be repulsed while his body moved forward into the man’s space.

He let the blade slide against the handle of his pick, pressing forward to trap the sword between the two of them, then choked his grip on the pick and slammed the hammer back down on the man’s unwounded leg.

The horrifying sensation of cracking the man’s bones against himself resounded through his entire body, sending shivers of revulsion through him.

The Gadveran let out a pained wail as Calvin shoved him back into the dense melee, where he bumped into two Ilethans locked in a struggle to the death. They turned and slaughtered the crippled man in seconds before returning to each other.

Calvin caught a second to assess the battle, scanning the chaos.

This can’t be natural. He now recalled seeing the System Message through the haze of bloodlust, and realized it had been a spell, like the Genosian paralysis spell.

That meant someone was responsible for it. Cal walked over to the parapet, and nearly fell as his left leg was far weaker than he expected. He glanced down and spotted the gash in his left stomach, still oozing blood.

His legs were fine, but Karen had told him that a wound to his core would always reduce his overall strength, since so many other things relied on it. Cal compensated, limping to the parapet and looking over the edge.

He scanned the army below, his heart sinking as he spotted the rows upon rows of unaffected Ilethans charging up the siege towers. Cal glanced over his shoulder, and saw that only a fraction of the original defenders remained, and they were too busy killing each other to create any kind of formation.

Cal looked back down at the Ilethan army, scanning for his target as quickly as he could. There, in the middle of the field, was a woman wearing a flamboyant suit of armor that was designed more to accent her figure than to protect it. She was walking away, a single dark dot in the middle of the flood of Ilethans.

That’s the one I need to kill.

Cal glanced up, and his ears picked up rumbling halfway up the siege towers as thousands of perfectly fresh Ilethans clomped their way to the frontline.

Well, we’re fucked, better- Cal’s thoughts were cut off by a harsh buzzing as a wasp landed on him and presumably stung him on the back of the neck. He swatted it away as quickly as it came.

Cal couldn’t feel the sting, but he started to feel a sensation of pressure. He immediately dismissed all of the berserk insects, and the odd sensation in the back of his neck stopped building as the poison ceased to exist.

So the wall is screwed, and If I don’t get out of here right now, then Ella will die, and that’ll ruin my day.

Sure wish I could summon something that was smart enough to carry me out of here on its own, Cal thought with irritation. Not that I have any Bent left.

Cal started limping back to where he’d left the Genosian tucked against the wall, and tried to hoist her up.

On a good day, Calvin would be able to just barely lift the heavy girl over his shoulder, but in his current condition, all he could manage was dragging her unconscious body by the foot.

The rumbling tone from the siege towers changed in pitch as the stomping feet got closer and closer to the top.

Gotta go, gotta go… Cal thought, straining to haul the Genosian across the battle-damaged wall as fast as he could. His guts twisted in impotent anger as he spotted the recruit snoozing up against the wall, mid-Break, and the handful of Genosians killing each other even as the Ilethans began to pour out of the siege towers again.

Hopefully they just take him prisoner.

Cal glanced toward the staircase, and realized he wasn’t going to make it before the Ilethans got to him.

Damn, Cal’s heart pounded frantically as he considered tossing Ella over the side of the wall. Unfortunately there were no roofs below them, only the main street, where the Gadveran army was sprinting toward the stairs.

They’re not gonna make it.

Cal had an idea as he watched the Ilethans slaughter the remaining Gadverans and turn their gaze on him, a wounded soldier dragging another away.

Didn’t wanna do this, but better odds than tossing her off a roof.

“Wake up!” Cal shouted, slapping Ella’s face, hard.

They started sprinting toward him, weapons held high.

“Wake up!” he repeated himself, doing it again.

Ella gasped, her eyes snapping open and focusing on him, her brows furrowing in indignation.

“What do you think you’re-“

“Bent,” Cal demanded, putting his palm out.

“Okay,” she said, putting her hand in his reflexively.

Cal drained a point of Bent from her with all the speed he could muster, Causing Ella to cry out in pain from the rough treatment.

1/11 Bent remaining.

Calvin released Ella’s hand, his own shooting down to his belt and grabbing the ooze-weaver Slime component.

All the towers were to the north, which meant if he could make the wall impassable, it would prevent them from making it to Calvin’s stairs. There was another set of stairs on the north-side, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

Wasps might slow them down, but oozeweaver slime would bring them to a dead halt.

Shaping.

Cal focused on making the resulting pressurized slime cylindrical.

A long tube of compressed slime appeared above the Ilethan’s heads before spreading out, coating a hundred feet of the five-foot wide wall with the unbelievably slimy material.

The sprinting ilethans fell as one, while dozens were pushed off the walls by their peers, creating a veritable rain of bodies falling to the cobbled streets below them, thin streams of blood erupting from their noses and mouths as their brains were dashed on the rock.

Calvin stumbled backward, his limbs trembling. He felt cold, but that could just be the numbness associated with Sense-grafting. Calvin looked at his palm, and marveled at how pale it was. Nope, definitely blood loss.

He felt his limbs lose the strength to stand as he settled back against the wall, the enemy floundering in the slime a dozen feet away.

Calvin began to feel the pressure behind his eyes morph into a fever. He was about to Break.

Not now, damnit.

“Ella, we need to-“

“Buy a little time,” She responded, climbing to her feet and picking up a nearby weapon. There were plenty scattered around the wall.

“That’s not what I-“

“That’s what you want.” She said, hefting the steel in her hands before picking up a shield, too. She bent down and kissed him on the lips, folding his hand over his wound and pressing it down tight.

“Stay alive. I would prefer my Incha Huala a bit more mature.”

Cal scoffed. “Are you kidding? I’ll live to a thousand, and summon your juicy ass whenever I want some eye candy.”

Did I just agree to eat her? Cal thought as a shiver went down his spine.

“We’ll see,” she said, tweaking his nose and standing.

“Bastard!” An Ilethan launched an Air Cutter from his belly, his eyes fixed on Calvin.

Ella’s skin turned silver, and she held her forearm in front of Cal’s face. Calvin heard a ringing sound, and when she turned her arm to stand, he saw her leather bracer had gained a long cut down the center.

Ella marched over to the edge of the slime and began methodically clubbing the struggling Ilethans, taking care not to set foot in it, or get any of it off her. Cal saw an Ilethan use Charge and the Genosian simply braced her feet, rebounding the man off her shield. Unable to catch any purchase of the slime, he tumbled down to the street below.

This went on for a minute, and Calvin was starting to feel like there might be a chance for them, until a hulking man shouted, bringing the fighting to a halt.

He was large, with dark hair, pale eyes and skin, and he had formation of six swords hovering around him, straight and dignified like royal attendants.

The Ilethans backed out of his way, and he stopped just shy of the pile of writhing ilethans coated in gunk.

He snorted in disgust and lifted a foot. A sword placed itself beneath him. He repeated this with his other foot, and was suddenly airborne.

He swooped forward, flying in a diagonal arc like a frisbee, until he stood facing Ella from thin air beyond the edge of the wall.

Suddenly the advantage of terrain was reversed.

“You must be the Genosian causing us so much trouble.” The man said, in rumbling Genosian. “Iron skin tribe?”

“I wonder,” Ella said, pinching her silver skin.

“Or is it…” His eyes focused on Calvin, narrowing in thought. “You…Malkenrovian, you shouldn’t be here. You’re both out of place on this wall. If experience has taught me anything it’s to look for what’s out of place. You’re both going to have to come with me. If you give up now, I’ll bring you back to camp without hurting you first.”

Calvin peeled his outer hand away from his gut wound and gave the big man a pale, shaky Middle Finger.

“I like your style kid, but you just asked for it.”

Ella put herself between the two of them.

“Wait…there’s something more going on here, isn’t there? Why protect him? Why would you even be here…unless…” the big man muttered to himself, thumbing his chin.

“Boy,” The big man said. “You’ve got an Incha Huala, don’t you?” He pointed at Ella. “And you’re probably the one flooding the battlefield with those damn wasps, too.”

Ella tensed, ready for anything, but Cal’s vision was started to stutter as his eyes tried to close on their own.

“I thought as much. Let’s go have a chat.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” A commanding voice came from the top of the stairs, where Bekvah stood, holding a red cylinder in front of him.

“Could’ve used that…hours ago.” Cal muttered.

“Sorry,” the thin, owlish man said apologetically. “Government moves slow.”

As Cal’s eyes slid shut, he heard a rush of flame moments before Ella draped herself over him, protecting his skin from the wave of scalding heat as Bekvah unleashed the potential of the tiny cylinder in his hand.

****

Nadia was settling down in camp, relaxing in her rocking chair she’d had shipped all the way from home, sipping tea provided by her handmaiden while she discussed the progress of the battle with the Malkenrovian lliason.

The liaison was wearing the typical, poofy velvet and gold of a Malkenrovian dignitary, but she showed no sign of human emotions, like unease, or hubris. Speaking with them was all the more disconcerting for Nadia, whose expertise was getting inside the minds of others.

Malkenrovians didn’t have minds, and it was terrifying.

She was too well trained to show it on her face, or in her actions, though.

“I doubted your metal beasts at first, but they’ve provided quite the golden opportunity. Please tell your king that we are most appreciative.”

The woman who was staring unblinkingly at the battle turned her head to regard Nadia.

“We can see everything. The One is aware.”

“I see.” Nadia said, nodding. “Well, all the same. We most likely won’t need the remaining ones, so perhaps we can renegotiate the terms of-“

The entire top of Mujenan’s wall exploded with fire, creating a shockwave that knocked those at the bottom of the wall down, and spread out to wash over Nadia.

A tiny black object was ejected from the top of the wall, sailing high into the air and trailing a thick cloud of smoke as it was catapulted toward them.

The Malkenrovian stared at the object impassively, while Nadia stood out of her chair, alarmed. Her handmaiden dashed for cover, causing her to roll her eyes at the girl’s cowardice.

The object resolved into a man…a rather large one.

When it became apparent the man wasn’t going to land on them, Nadia sat back in her rocking chair and took a sip of her spiced tea.

The man hit the ground twenty feet away from them in an explosion of dirt, leaving a furrow before he began skidding along the surface, landing just in front of the table.

“Commander Grant,” Nadia said sweetly. “Back so soon?”

“Reporting for sack time,” Grant muttered, pulling himself out of the ground and favoring heavy burns on his left arm. His two remaining swords showed signed of warping, and his other four were melted off at the hilt.

He limped over to where half a dozen card-playing soldiers were now staring at the flaming wrecks of the siege towers and swiped their booze, downing it in one gulp.

“The Prince has entered the battlefield,” Grant said, staggering away. “They’ve got Mage’s Fire, and some Malkenrovian kid’s bastardized Genosian magic to make the wasp spell somehow. Debrief me tomorrow.”

Nadia watched Grant limp to a cot and throw himself down on it, no one bothering to interrupt him.

“As I was saying, your assistance is most appreciated, but we feel your metal beasts could be doing more.”

The liaison’s face twitched into a mockery of a smile, as if a puppeteer had tugged up on the corners of her mouth.

“Perhaps we should renegotiate our deal.”

Nadia forced an angry sneer down, her grip on her cup tightening.

“I don’t see any need for that.” She said with a pleasant smile.

“Bring Us the Malkenrovian, and We will reward you with the rest of Our…beasts, to do with as you please.”

Nadia felt her eyebrows climb.

Macronomicon

Welcome to 2020! that year all those 80's movies predicted we'd be running around in mohawks with androids taking over the world and shit!

Patreon will be about ~ 20 chapters ahead by the end of this flood.

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