Knights Apocalyptica

After the initial shouts of surprise, came the grabbing of guns.

Erec twitched, trying to retreat and find cover, but his legs refused to cooperate. Where did that axe from and why did it vanish when he needed it? The thing barely held in his hands had nowhere near the level of power he needed.

They were taking tactical positions. He saw them shifting about ahead. But the sudden shock of the barrier opening caught them by surprise—they mustn't have been able to hear them outside of the door.

Colin stepped between Erec and the room, his hands weaving a glyph. In a second, a thick wall of ice rose like a curtain, cutting them off from the room. Bullets slammed into the barrier a couple of seconds later, a blind volley from the defenders. The ice chipped and cracked ahead of them, and on the other side, a ball of fire slammed into the barrier.

But Colin didn’t wait for his spell to collapse. After putting the wall up, he wove a larger glyph—his hand outward as a more complex form of deep purple spun into the air; his hand crackled as sparks burst from his arm.

For Colin to act first—and actually present himself as a contender on the battlefield was baffling.

But with Erec’s body refusing to move, he could only watch in awe the moment the ice shatter.

Colin brought his hands together, and a thread of light rammed itself through the glyph—bursting into a tree of lightening that snapped from the narrow point of his palms and tore into the room like a tempest, cracking into unknown assailants and turning the standoff into a slaughterhouse. Burnt flesh and screams responded from the interior—but there were no bullets that flew at them.

Stronger than the typical spell he flung; how had he made such a breakthrough? Was that lightning the result of his soul? Either way, he’d drawn clear first blood. But then…

That was it. He twitched and then convulsed as a bolt of electricity sparking off of him rebounded and hit him instead, slipping to the side and gasping.

It had to be. Like Erec’s silver flames, but less developed. Colin was, without a doubt, out of the fight. But he’d bought them time. Erec needed to get in the room and disable Seven-Snakes before he tried to run. Erec let out a grunt, trying to force his legs to cooperate and stand up. They were numb, wrung out, but it wouldn’t stop him. Colin’s act of defiance jump sparked Fury into spiraling once more, igniting and burning through the inertia.

But he wasn’t alone—Garin grabbed him by the shoulder as he rose, pushing him past the threshold and into the battlefield as their targets were recovering from Colin’s sudden attack; sensing his intent.

The interior was smaller than Erec might’ve predicted. Not a vault at all, but a kind of living chamber. Completed by turned over sofas, what had been a pleasant dining room table. A Magi was bleeding out on the ground; his skin tore and seared, with odd veins on his body. Another man was leaning against the wall, gun dropping as his arm convulsed. Another Magi was hiding behind a door, shifting slightly to look and no doubt cast a spell.

Seven-Snakes flung open the door to what appeared to be a bedroom—a revolver swaying to take a shot.

Erec shoved Garin to the side and flung himself forward, spinning across the ground as the gun went off and its bullet skidded against a wall. Erec quickly crawled behind a flipped table. Garin was crouched beneath a counter.

“You brats again?” Seven-Snakes called out, shocked. “Get up, fuckers. Die early and with dignity.”

A challenge. The fool was going to challenge him—He was too far to reach in a single bound, not without getting shot. But the others were gathering their bearings after Colin’s attack. The problem was Erec would catch a bullet without his Armor; catching it in the wrong place would end the fight. He didn’t have Enide’s speed, but he knew what he had to do. Erec adjusted, trying to maximize his posture to get a good sprint in; he wouldn’t lose this opportunity, even if the risk was death.

He needed answers.

Another bullet flew, tearing through the wooden table and exposing it as the weak amount of protection it was, to begin with.

Fog spilled into the room; rapidly filling the chamber and cutting off the view. Morgana. There had to be wolves about in that mist, based on the cries of alarm. She’d gotten involved. Which meant that Seven-Snakes was now liable to fly into fleeing like the coward he was. They wouldn’t be enough to hold him down and capture him, Erec was sure of that.

With a yell, Erec sprang forward, dropping his axe for a different weapon: the table. He rushed to where Seven-Snakes was last. Using the makeshift ram, he smashed the table into someone and tossed it against a wall—looking at the twitching body beneath.

It was sinking into the ground.

No.

Erec’s hand snapped down, his fingers desperately trying to grab at the sinking figure; another gunshot went off from below, the aim too wide. There. His fingers wrapped around a neck—and then with a grunt, he yanked upward, pulling Seven-Snakes from the ground, his grip a vice as he held onto his prey. His muscles screamed as Seven-Snakes kicked in his choke-hold, the gun dropping as the bastard’s desperate hands tried to force him away from his throat.

“You’re going to tell me what I want or you will die.” Erec tightened his grip even further. The violent storm within him barely contained. He knew all it would take was a little more force. The barest bit and that windpipe would crush beneath his fingers and put an end to this slinky rat that slipped from shadow to shadow. Fury was a tool, and it’d let him take what he wanted.

His arm shook as Seven-Snakes slowly choked out within his grasp. Once he stopped struggling, Erec let up—looking around at the mist surrounding him. He saw the suggestion of wolves forming around him, circling, guarding. Outside of it, he heard Garin talking—his friend had taken down someone, and there didn’t seem to be any more fighters left.

Slowly, the fog swept away to reveal a complete victory.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

“What do you know about this map?” Boldwick pointed to the lain-out sheaf of paper in front of them; they’d taken control of an empty building not far away from where they’d captured Seven-Snakes, and the place was an absolute dump. Dusty and a waste of space, considering all the people outside of Vega who’d have been more than happy to convert it into housing.

It pissed Erec off, but he had to satisfaction of taking his anger out on his grip on Seven-Snakes collar.

The bastard shuffled in front of him, leaning over the broken table to look at the map. He turned to give Erec a nasty sneer and coughed, rubbing his throat.

“Never seen it before,” the man lied.

Erec yanked him back by the collar; lifting him off the ground, a reminder of how he got here, and what Erec could do to him. Seven-Snakes kicked out feebly, cussing up a storm.

“Lie again, and I’ll put you back to sleep. You’ve seen my mother. I want answers.”

Boldwick crossed his arms as he watched from the other side of the table, offering no help to the man. In fact, he hadn’t issued Erec any orders; came in to help with the questioning. The level head to the situation, which Erec desperately needed. At any second, he felt like he might snap and beat Seven-Snakes into a barely functioning pulp of meat; and the calm voice in the room helped keep him under wraps.

“Fucking kid,” Seven-Snakes bitched, as Erec let his feet touch the ground again. He sneered as he took in the map. “Shouldn’t have marked it up like this. They’re gonna be pissed if a priest sees it.”

“Why is that?” Boldwick replied.

“Eyes. It sees through the eyes,” Seven-Snakes pointed to his own and winked, “And that’s as much as they told me. Load of cryptic bullshit, sure. But it’s what it is. My advice? Listen to what they tell you, since they know more than they should. Kind of their thing.”

“They? Who was with Dame Isolde?”

“Damn, you guys no jack-shit, huh? And that whore sleeping around with one of them is this kid’s mom. Are you sure—“

Erec didn’t even hesitate. He flipped Seven-Snakes around and smashed a fist into his jaw. The bastard slunk to the floor, head hitting the table as he fell.

“Olivia,” Boldwick called, leaning down against the table and sighing.

“Sorry,” Erec said, even if he didn’t feel sorry at all. His fuse was short, and Fury was still flaring in his chest, a constant sensation that refused to burn away.

“You had a right to what you did, but I caution you this; no amount of force is going to make that man fear you. It might make him think twice before saying the wrong thing in a position of weakness, but he will not cower and consider that he may have been in the wrong. It’s only going to build resentment.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s going to the Magi after we get what we need. He’s their problem then, isn’t he?”

“That much is true. But you can never tell when an enemy you’ve made will return seeking revenge; take yourself and him. Do you think he expected you to be such a thorn in his side? No. But here we are. Why don’t you take a walk—now that we’re aware of his tricks, we can counter them easily.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!