Page 36 of Cerulean Truth
This, however, did not go unnoticed. As if a signal had been triggered, the remaining rows surged forward all at once, from all directions, their faces contorted with hate, their murderous intentions unmistakable. The searing heat in my chest intensified, yet I held my ground.
They were too many to take out at once, so close combat was out. I focused instead on translating,tapping into my anger, lurking right beneath the surface. For years, my “rage haze” had been controllingmerather than the other way around—but now, it did my bidding like a cheap whore.
And so I let it out of its cage like a feral animal starving for freedom yet restrained by an unyielding leash.
Heat. I need heat.
My hands were still as steady as a rock when my first wave of translation collided with all the Radicals it could find.
Some of them burned on the spot, some of them melted and some of them incinerated so fast, it wasn’t clear what exactly had been done to them, leaving the rest of them staring at me in shock.
As cries of pain filled the air, disbelief started manifesting on their faces; how was I still standing and how had they lost over half their numbers in less than ten minutes?
I could’ve translated away the blood on my hands and clothes but I wore it proudly like badge of honor. My breaths were a bit heavy, but I flashed them a wicked grin, letting them in on my insanity like it was a dirty little secret.
That seemed to have finally done it, as a few of those last standing Radicals, disoriented and disheartened by the losses they had suffered, began to waver.
There were those who hesitated in their approach, unsure of whether they should continue, and others simply surrendered. A better man might have shown them mercy but I was no better man.
These people had challenged me, had threatened my Leader, and had attacked me with numbers to obliterate. They wouldn’t have shown me mercy if it were the other way around.
So I did what I did best: I slaughtered them all. And I didn’t give a shit.
I snapped their necks with my bare hands and cut out their bowels with my duck blades.
The Radicals fell one by one, until only silence remained in the wake of the battle. The whole thing was over in less than fifteen minutes.
My body, covered in blood, dirt and sweat, was aching but the adrenaline had numbed most of the pain. I summoned the Skindo back into my tattoo.
Breathing heavily, I turned around facing George and his “disciples”, all looking at me in complete shock.
LikeIwas the monster.
Really?
I had saved them from fifty hostiles, taken it upon myself to kill them all so they wouldn’t have to lift a fucking finger, and now I was the monster?
I rolled my eyes at them, not really feeling the need to listen to some judgmental crap about non-lethal alternatives.
Not bothering to say goodbye, I portaled back quickly to the Basilica right before the sun came up, where the Maumars were still waiting for me, which was actually pretty nice of them.
The look on their faces when I appeared through the portal though. I must’ve looked?—
“James!” Maria shrieked with the same shock in her voice as Maurice carried on his face. He brought his hand slowly to his lips, covering his mouth to ensure he wouldn’t scream.
I noticed the blood, mixed with my sweat, dripping to the floor.
“Don’t worry, none of it is mine,” I said coolly to the Maumars, who were gaping at my bloody clothes in horror, as I swiftly translated away the gore.
“You okay?” I asked Maria hurriedly.
She nodded, reaching for Maurice’s hand.
“Think he caught on?”
Maria shook her head. “No, you were perfect.”
Before I could thank her for the unexpected compliment, blue drops started forming over my Nexus, turning into Emma’s face. Bad timing.
