Book 3, Chapter 23 - The Young Man (1/2)

After three years with the veterans of Hell’s Valley, the Cloudhawk of today was completely different than the wasteland scrub from before. In every way, he had matured, most notably in the physical department. This manifested in increased speed, power, sensitivity, constitution and more.

Cloudhawk’s swipe from Quiet Carnage was proof of his progress. He could say, without boasting, that anything less than a senior demonhunter was no threat to him. Even against established hunters he could draw on explosive power and his rare collection of powers to win victory more often than not.

The attack against Blackfiend would cut down someone twice as strong as the bandit king. After all, a body was naught but flesh, no matter how strong the muscles. How could one survive against a blow that would split steel?

Blackfiend stared ahead at what appeared to be an empty tent, when suddenly the ground was split by some unseen force. The table placed before him was blasted apart, and yet there was no reaction from outside. The bodyguards he had set at the tent entrance were absent, ignorant of what was happening inside. Why would they? There was not a single sound that they could hear.

Cloudhawk didn’t reveal himself at all during the attack.

His invisibility cloak was a high-rated relic, but it wasn’t invincible. During use, a sudden blast of resonance from another relic could interrupt or outright cancel its abilities. Because of this, in previous fights Cloudhawk would sneak up on his victims and then be revealed in the moment of his attack. This, unfortunately, left him open for a counter.

However, this time he left no trace. The slash of light seemed to come from nowhere, belched from another dimension.

Cloudhawk’s command over his relics had only improved. Unless he pulled out all the stops for an attack, he could maintain invisibility. It was a small improvement, but one that made him infinitely more dangerous.

From across the tent Blackfiend was cut open from jaw to abdomen.

In that instant his expression went slack. There was no reaction at least, like this mortal blow had happened to someone else. Nor was there any blood from the new fissure that nearly split his torso. Instead, black fog oozed from the wound. Tendrils of it reached out and as Cloudhawk watched, Blackfiend’s black flesh was knit back together. When it was done, there wasn’t even a scar.

The Warden scowled. No wonder that asshole Cyclops worships this guy, his abilities far outstripped any normal person. His body really did seem immortal.

As the bandit king’s body was recovering, the tent’s interior was enveloped in black mist. His silhouette was barely visible, a nightmare in the fog. His eyes began to simmer with a dangerous red light when suddenly he darted forward. Blackfiend’s large claws swiped wildly through the air, and it all happened before Cloudhawk could blink.

This guy moved at the speed of sound! His flurry of blows created a web of energy.

“Back off!”

Cloudhawk hacked with quiet carnage to cut the web apart. It was like striking an iron wall. His blade stopped dead. With no other recourse he let his invisibility fade but activated the phase stone’s energy field. As he appeared before Blackfiend, the bandit king’s slicing net slipped right through him. The goose-down carpet beneath Cloudhawk’s feet kicked up a cloud of severed feathers. Shards of fabric rose as well, igniting from some unseen energy and filling the air with flashes of heat and color. A flash in the pan, and then darkness. But the uncomfortable feeling that hung in the air remained.

Cloudhawk felt a crushing sense of danger come over him.

Blackfiend was too strong. As the web of energy rushed through him he felt the phase stone’s field ripple and nearly collapse. He was lucky – the Cloudhawk from three years ago would have been cut into neat little cubes.

Cloudhawk, of course, wasn’t just going to sit around and take a beating.

Blackfiend was fast, but to someone who could effortlessly follow a bullet’s track like Cloudhawk, he was nothing to gawk over. A hand whipped back and pulled a silver weapon from his waste. It was a strange tool, less a throwing dagger and more a pointed cone. It was a specially made throwing weapon that was very slender, and ended in a very sharp point.

Four of them burst out all at once, faster than if they’d been fired from a rifle. At this distance it would have been near impossible to dodge, yet Blackfiend – whatever the fuck he was – didn’t even bother to try. Two caught him in the chest, one in the throat, and the last one right between the eyes.

Cloudhawk’s capabilities were nothing to sniff at. They found purchase in the bandit king’s body, and to any normal person each one would have claimed their life. Of course, then, they would have an effect on Blackfiend. The black-skinned monstrosity stopped mid-fight.

“Aaaaauuurrrgghh!”

He released another guttural roar.

The sound of it was contained and didn’t reach outside, however with a burst of strength the awl-spikes popped out of his body. Curling wisps of smoke seeped from the injuries.

Cloudhawk was ready for something like this. One of the spikes passed right through him before tearing through the tent walls. There were four punctures now, letting in light from the outside. One of the guards screamed in pain, and Cloudhawk heard something heavy hit the ground.

My turn! Cloudhawk brought his arm around as hard as he could, and another boomerang of energy leapt from quiet carnage.

It was aimed toward Blackfiend’s waist, and before the freak could reaction it swept right through him. As it whipped passed and through the tent a loud rrrip ensued, like someone tearing a sheet of paper. Guards coming from outside were not prepared and were split in half, dead before they knew what happened.

“What’s going on? Boss!”

Several of the bandit leaders had heard by now and raced toward the din. When they arrived, they found Blackfiend’s tent collapsed, and corpses strewn around it. The clash between Cloudhawk and the bandit leader had encompassed mere seconds, and until the end had been almost entirely silent. When they finally managed to pull the heavy tent fabric aside, what the leaders saw shocked them.

The body of bandit king lay on the ground in two halves. He’d been cut in half at the waist, severed completely. The vicious scene left them dumbfounded. Blackfiend’s top half lay unmoving, eyes closed, while chaos erupted all around.

Strangely, not a drop of blood came from the injuries. No pool of gore had gathered, as would be expected. There was only plumes of that black mist like ethereal tentacles, reaching out for his bottom half. One by one they gripped onto onyx black flesh, pulling, tugging. Horrified and awe-struck eyes watched as their master’s body stitched itself back together.