86. Valley Skirmish

What to do?

Zane was no seer. But it was looking to him like if he wanted to get in the dungeon, he'd have to ruffle some feathers.

He tried thinking it through, like Reina would've done.

Zane wasn't sure how strong the top ten World Rankers were. But if Eze was still stuck at Level 99, and he was World Ranked #3… that wasn't such a big gap, was it?

He didn't have much reason to be scared of anyone. Especially with how strong his Faction was now. Maybe there was this Mike Masters, the Tomb King leader, to worry about. But he had bigger problems. Like Elias.

And the Tomb Kings were crawling all over Northern California. Expanding. They were going to have some kind of confrontation sooner or later, Zane figured.

Shrugging, he started down the slope.

***

On his way down, a Signed dot popped up on his mini-map. He drew closer, curious. He felt his feelings before he saw him. Just a tightly wound ball of nervous energy.

It was a short baby-faced teenage boy with curly sandy hair, eyes squeezed shut, trembling a little, sitting against a tree with his knees drawn up to his chest. "You can do this," the boy whispered. "C'mon, Evan. You've got this! Get up!"

He cringed, shivering; he was breathing pretty hard. He seemed to be having some kind of anxiety attack. "… Aw, geez… C'mon—people are counting on you down there!"

𝔼𝕧𝕒𝕟 𝔸𝕣𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘

𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕝𝕖: 𝔾𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕪

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟡𝟚

Huh. This boy was nearly the same Level as him. A top-20 World Ranker? Zane swore he'd seen this name before, pretty close on those ranking lists to his own.

…What was going on with him?

Zane thought briefly about saying something. He seemed in a pretty bad way. Then Zane figured it wasn't really his business. Last time he tried sticking his nose into a stranger's emotional distress, he just wound up embarrassing them so badly they literally ran away from him. For at least a mile straight, too…

So he kept on going, down to where the Tomb Kings were having their little standoff at the tree roots.

***

A cloud of nervous tension hung over the valley floor, growing more palpable to Zane as he neared—it poured off of lots and lots of souls. There must've been about a hundred people bunched up outside the Tomb King barricade. They were split up in seven or eight Factions. Their leaders stood at the front. Some of them had Blockers on, like him, but Zane was pretty sure they were World Rankers. They were in the midst of a hearty shouting match with a bored-looking Tomb King man.

"This is bullshit!" cried a nerdy-looking man in a white cloak. His fists were clenched.

The Tomb King man shrugged. He was a well-groomed man, lean and short, with coiffed hair in a nicely fitted suit. He wore a look of thinly disguised disdain.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕠 𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕫

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟠𝟠

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Marco drawled. He didn't seem sorry in the least. "But you'll have to wait, I'm afraid. The Tomb Kings are in the middle of an operation."

"Hogging the dungeon, you mean," rumbled a thickly built man in a camo tank top. He was almost as tall as Zane.

Marco snorted. "Trust me," he said, smiling wolf-like. "You should be thanking me. Marquis Mendes is not a particularly stable man at the best of times. Now that the ice bitch killed his brother—well. He's taking it out on everything in there. Do you really want to get in the way of the World #12?"

At that, they all paled a little. Then—

"Screw that," someone shouted. "We're World Rankers too! We took the Quest, just like you did."

"That's right!"

"Yeah, you tell 'em!"

"You can't stop all of us!"

The crowd was gaining confidence.

"We didn't come all the way from San Antonio just to get turned back by you wannabe men-in-black assholes!" cried a tanned, muscular woman.

ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕖 ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕤𝕠𝕟

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟠𝟘

She looked and dressed like an Amazon. Her Faction, a bunch of Berserkers in tunics, all nodded, looking fierce.

"Alright, I've heard enough," sighed Marco. "Luis? Shut her up."

The man next to him nodded; his bushy brows drew together. He was huge, a true giant—taller than Zane even, standing well over seven feet.

𝕃𝕦𝕚𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟠𝟝

Silently, carefully, he started rolling up his suit sleeves.

"Hmph." The woman put up her fists, and burning gleaming gauntlets flashed into being. She smashed them together. "Bring it on!" she growled.

Smoke swirled around Luis' massive fist; when it left, he clenched an equally massive obsidian hammer.

He took a step. His whole body melted into shadow.

He emerged right in the woman's face. The hammer came so fast she barely got her gauntlets up to block.

It struck. Zane saw the sheer force of it just ripple up her body, even through her guard; she gasped. Cracks jarred the clearing; she went flying, spitting blood, and flopped to a groaning stop thirty-odd feet away. She didn't get up again.

Stunned silence.

Marco checked his nails, smiling. "Ahh… much better."

There was a burst of shadow, and the giant was back at his side, glaring over the rest of them. A shiver passed through the crowd.

"So!" said Marco. "Anyone else feel like running their mouths?"

The crowd slowly backed away, clumping together, feeling very nervous all of a sudden. Zane blinked—it seemed it was just him still standing there.

"Yeah, actually," he said. He felt a bit awkward. "I want to clear the dungeon. Could you, uh. Get out of the way?"

Marco frowned at him. Then snorted. "Well," he told his big lackey. "Clearly that wasn't convincing enough. Watch and learn. This is how you make an example of someone."

Then he smiled. He held out his hands; long shiny knives flickered into being, smoking shadows. A lot like Javier's. He licked his lips.

"You have a lot of meat on you, my friend. I wonder—how many cuts will it take to get to the center of it?"

His knives started twirling. "Let's find out together, shall we?"

But before he could take another step—

"Hold it right there!"

Someone was marching up next to Zane—a Signed dot on his mini-map.

It was the same top-World-Ranker boy he'd seen earlier, the one cringing next to the tree. Evan Armstrong. Evan grinned, showing perfect white teeth.

"Golden Boy," said Marco, frowning. He pursed his lips.

"That's right," said Evan. "I heard you bullies were doing your nasty business up here, so I came rushing right over! You're not hurting these folks. Not on my watch! So you can beat it, bud!"

It was the strangest thing. He was smiling and talking quite confidently, but Zane could feel how nervous the boy was. His heart was hammering in there.

It didn't make much sense. He had four Levels on the guy and a Signature Title to boot. Zane got the impression the boy had some pretty bad performance anxiety. He hid it pretty well, though.

Evan turned to Zane. "Don't worry," he said, beaming. His grin wobbled a little. "I've got you. You're safe now!"

Zane was speechless.

"Tch!" Marco scowled.

"So what'll it be?" Evan continued, swallowing, looking back at him. "If it's a fight you want..."

He drew his Soul Weapon. It looked like a blade straight out of The Lord of the Rings—sleek and pristine and bright, like something an elvish hero might wield.

"I'm happy to oblige. You can pick on someone your own Level, for a change!"

The Tomb King nailed Evan with a flat stare. "Fine. Have it your way," he said softly. "But if you think this is over, you're sorely mistaken. The Marquis will hear of this. We'll see how smug you are when he's carving your organs out of you."

"We'll see about that!" said Evan, putting on a brave face. Though Zane felt a sudden surge of stomach-clenching fear coming from him.

"And you," said Marco.

He turned his contemptuous half-lidded gaze on Zane and stared deeply. Like he was memorizing Zane's face. "You're a lucky man. But you owe me a duel, one way or another. I'd tread carefully around shadows if I were you. You never know what's hiding in them."

With that, he started to turn—

"Uh," said Zane. He scratched his head. "Was that a threat?"

Marco frowned, turned back, one elegant brow cocked.

"What do you think?" said the man, smirking like Zane was the stupidest person in the world. "Golden Boy here likes to play hero! But he won't always be here to save you. And when the time comes—"

"Oh," said Zane.

He Volt Blitz'd. He had enough control now he usually ended up pretty close to where he wanted to go. In this case, he wanted to stop right in front of the Tomb King's face. He ended up pretty bang-on. His arm was already in motion by then.

Marco's eyes widened. His mouth opened.

Then his eyes went upward. So did his mouth. His whole head, really. His mouth widened, but no sound came out. The reason was pretty clear—there was a gushing of air from the molten stump of his neck, but it had nothing to connect to. The head just kept going higher and higher—then it was lost in a cloud of Stormfire. It'd roasted to a crisp before it even had a chance to fall back down.

A third silence in as many minutes. The most horrified silence of them all.

Then the giant was lunging at him, roaring in fury. His hammer swept all the way around.

Zane just grabbed the giant by the wrist. Almost casually. And stifled his force utterly. For a moment the giant stared in disbelief, straining all those veiny python muscles bulging up his arms. Nothing happened.

With his other hand, Zane grabbed the hammer shaft. And yanked it out of the man's grip like a stern parent confiscating a naughty child's toy.

Then he whacked him with his own Soul Weapon.

Maybe whack wasn't quite right. He put a good deal of effort into the swing. The hammer made a nice little arc ending at the giant's head. Short, but quite brutal. Zane got a lot of power into the swing.

He'd never used a hammer before, except in video games like Super Mario. It turned out to be pretty fun. It turned out pretty similar to Super Mario too. One moment the giant was about seven-and-a-half feet tall. About a quarter of a second later, he was three feet tall, squashed flat. And then he was no feet tall since the sudden compression exploded him beyond anything anyone would call living. It was pretty messy until it all dissolved into essence.

Then the rest of the grunts ran screaming for the Tree. They didn't get very far—the moment they got into the snarl of those huge iron roots, things started going wrong. Some got dragged straight into ground by flashes of silver light. Some got snapped clean in half by scythe-like pincers lunging out of nowhere. Zane didn't even need to do anything—he watched dot after dot vanish on his mini-map.

Then he turned back around. They were all gaping at him. Including Evan.

"Uh. Thanks for saving me back there," Zane said. "…I'll be going now."