Chapter 1270 (1/2)

Theodora Greyman, President of Zone 1 and Chairwoman of the World Council, looked fixedly at her desk. Although she had plotted and bluffed her way into the position that she had thought would make her the most powerful woman in the world, she had still been forced to this point. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Then she sighed. “If we do nothing, we seem inept. This attack was practically announced a week in advance. And our people… trusted that we would handle it responsibly.”

Douglas just stood in front of the communication terminal and looked over to his boss. The technicians at the facility were waiting on her answer.

“On the other hand,” Theodora continued. Her voice was low and rough. “If we were to take this action now… we would be firing our greatest weapon at a location that is filled with civilians… it might be our only chance of breaking through that strange barrier that has appeared, but the fallout will be disastrous either way. If it shatters the barrier and kills some of the people within…? Suddenly we are beyond cold-blooded; we are accessory to murder. It will seem like we offered the fans at the game as bait to lure out the Red Revival.”

“You need to make the call, Madam President,” Douglas said as he rubbed at his eyes. There were deep bruise colored bags underneath both of them. “Every second that goes by is another second that they are trapped in that stadium with the bloodbeasts.”

I suppose this is what power is. Being the one who has to make the bad decisions. Being the one who will endure all the criticism, as others speak about the incident as though this had been your plan all along… Theodora breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Is this why you walked away, Randidly Ghosthound?

Then President Greyman met Douglas’ gaze. “Pull the trigger on Mjolnir. I’d rather be cold-blooded than inept.”

*****

What kept Dere from moving too suddenly was the flow of Mana into the metallic casings that he held. Every second was another bit of damage that he could inflict on an unsuspecting target. The coil of power Derek prepared became tighter and tighter within the Mana Bombs’ cores. Almost there.

Derek spun the three bombs in his hands, faster and faster. Around him, people were rapidly fleeing to gather in his tier of the stands while the ape drones rushed out to block the pursuing bloodbeasts. The fighting between the two sides was brutal; neither seemed to feel pain as their bodies smashed into each other. Derek had already shaken a dazed Tim awake, then urged him to hop over the wall to the field and hide in a small referee alcove right below their location.

The kid hesitated but quickly listened to him. Seeing his son was safe, Derek moved to the front of the rapidly growing group of people and stared intensely out at the action occurring on the field.

The giant mecha body of Ghost orchestrated its drones to unleash a barrage of attacks against the dome around the Winged Serpent. The light from that strange wheel was no longer growing any brighter, but the aura it now released still made Derek feel extremely strange. Underneath the array of lasers from the drones, Straud walked forward with a grin and spread his arms. “Do you need a playmate? Bloodbeast, rise and serve our God!”

Crimson energy flowed from Straud’s fingers to form into an orb the size of a chicken’s egg that grew to be the size of a kitchen table within a second. Then the large crimson egg popped and a rapidly growing werewolf composed entirely of blood straightened up into a standing position. The liquid wetness of its claws gleamed as it twisted and stretched. When it finished growing, it was still smaller than Ghost’s mecha, but only by a small amount.

The two tall figures sized each other up. Then the bloodbeast werewolf leapt forward to meet its metal opponent while howling its hatred of the living.

The mecha Ghost did not wait for the large bloodbeast to attack it. With an elegant twist, it brought its heavily engraved sword around and slashed it at the new foe. The werewolf responded quickly and both the sounds of screeching metal and burnt flesh could be heard as the werewolf’s claws met the mecha’s sword. Ghost’s servos groaned and the arm of the werewolf bloodbeast bulged strangely.

But just as quickly, action elsewhere drew Derek’s attention away. Everything was happening at once.

The woman who could be no one but Alana Donal, riding the Dragon Broodmother that had once terrified the surrounding Zones, raised her spear and charged forward. Thea Glasshammer, the human woman turned Nemesai, hopped up onto her monstrously large undead bear and urged it to dash directly at her foe as though the two were engaging in a strange joust.

The man with the large iron ball rushed forward to meet the Bandit King. With burning eyes, the Bandit King whipped out a wickedly serrated blade and guffawed at the man. “Still confident with that shit image? I’ll chop you to pieces and feed you to my dogs!”

As they were the closest combatants, Derek could feel the difference between these two’s images most starkly. And the Bandit King was right. The man’s image was a dense one that only touched the area immediately around him, but even that area was being steadily encroached by the Bandit King’s greedy image.

Damnit, my piss poor attempts at images are nowhere near enough to help in a fight like this… If I hadn’t hesitated to risk getting Level 50… Derek shook his head helplessly and looked to other areas of the field. He was running low on Mana, but had to wait for an opening before he was willing to step out and intervene in a battle of this tier. His Survival Instincts made him incredibly aware of the hovering presence of the Grim Reaper.

Images were running rampant. Even the strange aura they released applied pressure to the surrounding people. And Derek…

Derek pressed his eyes closed. I can’t die. I couldn’t risk condensing a Fate. Tim needs me. Without me, he… but really, have I been protecting him even from the normal dangers of life… Am I really just… afraid…?

Before he could fall down that mental rabbit hole, Derek focused himself. The bloodbeasts that had followed out the Nemesai contingent surged toward Hank Howard. The man quickly spun his revolver one last time and put it away. Then he raised his repeater and unleashed a slew of quick shots that hit the heads and joints of the bloodbeasts that surged toward him.

One by one they dropped to the ground, but they quickly seemed to recover and stand back up to stagger forward. Hank frowned. His image sharpened as he fluidly reached to his waist, drew another clip, and reloaded his repeater in a split second. But as he brought the pistol to bear on his next target, a sinister shadow leapt toward his back.