Chapter 148 - Old Weaponry

Brock’s eyes darted in every direction: left, right, up, behind. And every direction was blocked off, the crowd moving in to surround him and attempt to glance at the enigmatic Brock Carter. Most of his ‘famousness’ came from rumours and details of his exploits spread by those that had actually met him, so it was their chance to confirm them.

The sky truly seemed like his only escape, and he knew he’d have to do so fast, as he could see Anastasia’s head of blonde hair peaking high above the majority of the crowd. She was shoving her way ever closer.

Or… I could just talk to her… He gritted his teeth, but decided to remain where he was. He was trying to focus on becoming more social, to repair his life to what it had been before all his complex emotions had taken it over. And he would do so. Starting… starting with this.

Brock hissed out a breath and removed his disguise, letting disappear into his ring. No one reacted at the sight, as spatial devices were becoming exceedingly common. Most powerful violet attuned beasts dropped the main material that created. What better way to jumpstart my rehab than by being surrounded by hundreds of curious people while speaking to an over-eccentric Russian warlord.

Anastasia’s grinning face reached the forefront of the crowd, and Brock blinked. I already regret this.

“Brock! God, you’re good at hiding.” She cracked her knuckles and her grin widened. It was a menacing action, just a habit he knew she had.

He deadpanned, “I wonder why.”

He found it oddly uncomfortable to have to look up at her when she spoke, but he wasn’t very tall, so he had himself to blame for that. Chatter erupted in the onlookers, and Brock’s high Dexterity allowed him to detect most of what was being said. Mainly, and much to his dismay, it was speculations about their relation.

Many had appeared to come to the conclusion that they were together. He even heard one person say that he looked like he’d be the bottom, and Brock had to refrain from singling the bloke out and giving him a smack over the head. He glanced back at Anastasia’s imposing form and the gleaming halberd strapped to her back.

Honestly… I think I’d be the bottom here too…

“You beat me down and hospitalised me,” she threw her arms in the air, her grin shifting to a playful smirk. Brock’s face fell as another round of murmurs erupted, this time about a far dark topic, “aren’t you gonna take responsibility?”

“O~k, that’s enough of that. Anastasia, have a terrible day, I’m going to bed.” Brock sighed, spinning on the balls of his feet and stomping off in the direction he was initially planning to go. He detected a hint of triumph in the woman’s E Grade aura, and he resisted the urge to flip her off. The crowd’s murmuring continued.

“Trying to ignore me, are you?” her aura flared with faux outrage. Amusement was hidden beneath. Clearly, she was trying to put on a show to the onlookers. He had no idea how she was an entire city’shead of military, “Do I have to throw myself at you, then?”

Why is she like this?

A sound akin to the cracking of a whip echoed, and Brock’s body was moving before she even took the first step. He could sense every single movement she made through the disruption of the air currents, his Skies rendering him omniscient for several meters in each direction.

A duck was all he needed to do to avoid a quick right hook, and a flip resulted in the following leg sweep passing under him without fanfare. He landed, spinning, one leg lashing out and smacking her next punch aside. Then, as his twisted, his other leg came flying in and impacted her across the face. A dull thud resounded, although he knew it was barely enough to make her E Grade body feel even a pinprick of pain.

In fact, Brock winced and leapt back. His foot ached. The woman’s bones were like steel. He’d probably be able to beat her in a fight if she got serious, albeit with great difficultly. As the days passed by, the gap between him and others was increasing massively. He felt oddly… feeble, to know he was falling behind.

“Good job, Brock!” she cheered and reached for her halberd, “I felt that one. You sure you’re still F Grade?”

Obviously, he was still an F Grade being, and it was clear to him that this was some sort of goading tactic. Was she trying to goad him into feeling small? To trick him into taking the Trial of Evolution? It seemed right up her alley, but the question was why? Why would she do…

Oh.

He stepped back and crossed his arms as his aura roared outward and impacted the pressure points in her arm. Her grip weakened and her halberd clattered to the ground, “Jane sent you, didn’t she?”

The warrior froze, her gorgeous E Grade features going deathly still. Her aura quickly became the definition of tranquil. The murmurs died down and the crowd listened intently, wanting to see how the ‘story’ developed. Brock created a sound suppressing field with Silence. As a bonus, the darkness obscured their sight too.

“Uhhh… no.”

“Well I call bullshit. I’m already taking the Trial.”

Her eyes widened, “You are? Fine. Jane said you needed a reason to take it because you were ‘depressed’.”

She gestured at her body and all its curves. She grinned, “I told her I could work something out, but she wanted a reason.”

I feel… oddly violated. He tilted his head and straightened his mouth into a line. He didn’t even know if her advances counted as advances anymore, “I’ve got one already. My mum’s gonna be in the Trial, so I have to go and find her.”

“How do you know she’ll be in the Trial?”

Brock shrugged, “A grumpy old witch.”

The warlord snatched her halberd from the ground and reattached it to the magnets on her back. She looked rather shocked, “Well, I guess my job’s done then, isn’t it? How about you come back to mine? I’ve got a bed, and-”

“I appreciate the offer,” Brock dispelled his shell of Silence, noticing that most of the crowd had gotten bored and moved on. He slowly began walking backwards, “but I like sleeping alone. It helps me feel the pain more.”

“…what?”

“Exactly. See you, Ana.” After she gave him a dejected ‘bye’ and made him feel like an asshole despite the fact that she was probably strong enough to rip his head off, Brock walked the rest of the way to his home. 45 hours left. Let’s spend 40 of them sleeping.

Sat upon an artificial plateau, Brock’s house was a double story marvel of earth manipulation. It was a rather modest construction, but as he’d paid Erin extra, it was quite a decent amount grander than anything else in the city.

A few of the more important people in the world had their own houses somewhere within King’s Cavity and were something of tourist attractions. Thankfully, the plateau made his own hard to reach, and most were content with gazing up at it.

A group of idiots, probably on a few years younger than himself, had once tried to break into his house while he was in it. They probably hadn’t realised he was there as he’d masked his aura.

Needless to say, they paid him for a new window that night and were promptly deposited 5km away from the town, right smack in the middle of the desert regions were King’s Cavity hadn’t made efforts to jumpstart the regeneration of flora.

It was a long walk back for them, and they’d never come back to his house afterwards, so he assumed it was successful.

A beautifully carved Wyrmwood door awaited him at the front entrance, the sun blocked out overhead by a veranda that surrounded the entirety of the house. The veins of glittering blue in the wood seemed to pulse in response to his contact as he grasped the door handle, and he entered without fanfare.

The interior of his house was rather warm, as he’d forgotten to turn of the fireplace. The shadows cast by it flickered, its dim light the only thing illuminating the darkness of the house. Sighing, Brock used Silence of the Abyss to open every curtain on every window.

Light streamed into the place and gave it new life.

His Augment’s influence reached out, and Brock sapped the energy from the Insulator Plate underneath the glistening stones of his fireplace. The Plate was much the same material that formed his armour, although his was tempered and far more durable.

Technically, his armour was more of an alloy, containing Gurzanite to keep it light, Orichalcum for the force absorption, and Thermium, the metal that actually gave the Plates and his armour their Augment-trapping properties. Like its name would suggest, it was mainly used with Augments relating to heat, although could be used for others, albeit with reduced efficiency.

It had taken Donte dozens upon dozens of tries to get the alloy to keep all the magical properties of its components, but he’d done it, and the results spoke for themselves. Coupled with his beast hide clothing, Brock generally only scored himself bruises during combat, claws and blades unable to pierce either layer.

Putting all that aside, Brock took a deep breath in and glanced toward the small stone box on his kitchen bench. It’d been sitting there ever since he returned after his month-long soul-searching and taken it off. He’d never felt the need or desire to touch or wear it again.

Within, his bracer was contained.

He reached out and Silence brought it over to him. The lid was promptly removed and revealed the menacing weapon that lay hidden within. With one hand, Brock reached in and grasped the metal of the bracer. It was cool to the touch and sent jolts of electricity up his nerves. It seemed… to resonate with whatever was within him.

It was the main reason he’d never wanted to put it back on after it was no longer needed. I… didn’t want to risk it. But… acceptance is a risk. And if I’m afraid of myself… then I… then I haven’t actually accepted what I am, have I?

The box lowered to the ground and Brock slowly strapped the bracer to his left arm. He was right hand dominant, even after all the months he spent without the arm, but strangely enough, his bracer just felt right sitting on his left. Lament rested at his waist and was meant for his right arm.

Closing his eyes, Brock focused on the bracer attached to his arm. The metal was cold, but not in a way that was uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The chill seemed to seep past his skin and soothe the darkness that lay beneath. He hated how relaxing it felt. He flexed his arm, and a blade shot out of the compartment above.

It was… a terrible looking blade, populated by jagged edges that were sharpened to a deadly point. It was about an inch longer than the blade on his old bracer, and the metal glittered a mix black and sapphire. Occasionally, crimson lightning seemed to crackle along its lengths, although it was so quick that Brock was always sure it was his eyes playing tricks on him.

Underneath, a cruel looking kunai rested, its edged barbed to enhance Brock’s ability to pull and wound with it. The wire was thick, and was actually a chain this time, composed of very small interlocking loops. A reel was stationed at the back of it, this one hidden by a lump of metal, unlike James’ version.

By tensing a different section of the muscles in his arm, he could loosen the chain-knife and let it fly. And it flew fast.

All in all, the weapon was lethality incarnate.

As Brock gazed at it, he felt something trying to use it as a conduit to contact him. He gritted his teeth and forcefully ignored the faint whispers. A similar effect occurred whenever he cranked up the conduction effect of Silence’s original Technique, Whispers of the Void, ever since the event three months prior.

He knew that whatever had taken him over was trying to speak with him, or tempt him with something dark, or even attempt to regain control. He had no idea what something that powerful and horrifying could possibly want.

And he didn’t want to know. His Augments suffered some efficiency loss due to the lessened ability to conduct anytime he used them through his aura or diffused their energy into it – the method he’d discovered to supplement Gor’eth’s and South’s Augment field ability – but it wasn’t too significant of a loss.

In the end, he removed the bracer, this time storing the box in Zin’s – his – ring and leaving the bracer to rest on his bedside table. Sleep didn’t come easy after he crashed down onto his mattress, a haphazard mess of stitched fabrics and assorted stuffing’s – it was one of the best humankind had to offer currently – but eventually. He drifted off to sleep.

I’m coming for you mum. Just wait for me.

Then darkness claimed him.