Chapter 542 (1/2)

There were ten thousand people standing in front of him, gazing intently up at Donny. Donny kept his face neutral, impassive. The sunlight sent speckled stars of gold careening off of his armor. Honestly, Donny was surprised so many people were willing to look so directly at him, all things considered.

But the air was somber. There was a seriousness in everyone that wasn’t usually there. This had been a cold splash of water in the face of Donnyton. Already, rumors about what happened were spreading to the other Villages. Donny hoped that it wouldn’t become politically important, but it was something worth keeping an eye on. But for now, he had a job to do.

As Donny cleared his throat, he noticed that Decklan was conspicuously absent from the front row, where the other leaders of Donnyton sat neatly. It was good that Decklan had been evening out recently, especially since the borderlands opened. The wildness was good for him and helped mollify his spirit.

But all of this had ripped away that humanization. Donny knew that as grief seized the man, something else would creep out of him; his true nature as a Killer.

“Tera Feeny has fallen… who next will stand for Donnyton?” Donny said, enunciating clearly.

It started with Dozer, but soon the entire first row was stomping their feet. Very quickly those rows spread backward in ripples until the entirety of the assembled ten thousand were stomping in unison. It was a slow, even beat, but extremely powerful when spread across so many individuals.

The tradition was a spin-off of the Ghosthound’s challenge to Donnyton. It had started in small-scale funerals, those of people who died in Dungeons, or to ambushes from Raid Bosses. Often, for the tragic loss of a talented youth, who recently became a member of a Donnyton Squad.

Boom. Boom.

“We will stand.” Came the spoken reply. It was almost breathy. It was a sigh, as everyone released the energy of emotion they held in their hearts. And as they did so, the stomping got faster.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Donny breathed in, and then breathed out. “The Vice-Captain of the Assassination Squad of Donnyton has fallen… who will next stand for Donnyton?”

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

This was different, Donny abruptly realized, than any other funeral he had been to. Part of it was the scale, but another part, the more important part, was what Tera had been to Donnyton.

She had been there at the beginning. She was one of the firsts. She knew the Ghosthound before he was the Ghosthound. At the time, he had gotten to the Skills faster, but they were still reasonable. It was more like the Ghosthound knew some tricks that the others hadn’t grasped yet. Whereas now, he seemed to be operating on a scale that none of the rest of them could fathom.

One of their first, one of their strongest, one of their brightest had died.

“We will stand!” The crowd bellowed against the sky. In the combination of noise, something seemed to be rising. An old, sleepy beast was shaking off the dust that covered it and baring its fangs.

Donnyton had lost something. And it was angry.

The stomping feet grew even more rapid, so much so that people began to lose the rhythm. But they more than made up for it in terms of volume of sound.