Chương 25: Escalation arc

"There are many premier fighting forces in the galaxy. The Federation Commandos, legendary bladeslaves, or true Starspawn gunslingers. Yet one stands above most, both in lethality and renown. The Toncon War Priests. Wielding gravity as their weapon, Toncon War Priests are extraordinarily experienced, highly trained and rarely seen. Their weapons are a mystery to nearly all, though records have observed their enemies being crushed against the floor, slammed against the ceiling, or simply suspended in the air.

Rarely do they leave the lands of the Theocracy, and rarer still do they fight in any great number. The last time this happened was during the assault of the Nine Pirate Kings, the last, and only, serious invasion of Theocracy space. Of the four ships that survived Toncon's displeasure, three landed, and were met by seventy one War Priests. The fighting took no longer than a minute, and records show that not a single priest died, despite being outnumbered over one hundred and eighty to one."

An introduction to the wider galaxy, chapter forty three. Dennon gasped in deep, long breaths, watching the final war droids fall. Stef was right there, and he straightened when her gaze raked over him, but other than that, he was simply tired. It felt like years since the invasion had begun, not mere days. By Toncon, he hadn't even noticed. It had just kind of happened, and then his experience in private security had seen him funneled into Stef's personal unit.

Nevermind that he had been a middling soldier, or that his survival as a bladeslave was born from luck more than skill. He was alive, and from the look of things, it was over. They'd won. Dennon didn't laugh. He barely even dared to hope. For so long the world had inched towards grey, towards apathy and uncaring, that even thinking about something better felt suspicious. Or maybe that was just the bloodloss. His thoughts always grew funny when that happened.

"Team one, team two, through that door," Stef barked. Dennon pulled himself up, then realized he was in team eight. Wait, door? The one that… that… what was his name? People had been whispering it for hours now; the man who started the uprising. Mat. Yeah, that was it. Anyway, the one that Mat had gone through, chasing Obedias. Gods, how Dennon would love to wrap his hands around that prick's throat.

"Team six, seven and eight, secure that hallway. Buck, organize the wounded." Dennon moved, but before he could, the small, hidden door blasted aside. Mat walked out, seemingly having kicked the thing. The man looked, quite frankly, like death warmed over. Bleeding, limping, one arm held stiffly to his chest and the other shaking as it held— a head. As it held a head. Obedias' slack face stared back at him, and Mat threw the decapitated head to the floor, letting it roll into the middle of the crowd. Dennon stared.

He'd met many people in his years. Gifted, poor mercenaries doing much with little. Rich, lazy scions relying on bought power, and everything in between. Their owner was neither of those, but during his one meeting with the man, he had recognized at least three biomods, and a defensive, full body techplant. The man was a titan, and no bladeslave had more than a single biomod to their name. Mat was rumored to have access to hidden power, yes, but to kill the man alone?

Dennon had seen him when Stef blew through the rubble. Already fighting, already wounded, but pushing on and on. Over and over. Ever since the uprising began, Dennon hadn't heard of the man not butchering his way through dozens and dozens of mercenaries. Never pausing, never stopping. A vicious, bloody tide. A Herald of Blood. Dennon shook his head. That was just a story. A stupid legend told by piss-green boys and drunk old men.

And now Mat stood before a crowd of nearly a hundred, and Obedias' head was on the floor. Obedias. Their owner. The master of life and death. Dennon found his lips moving, more in curiosity than belief.

"A Herald of Blood."

"A what?" the woman next to him asked, confused. Dennon shrugged, but her gaze snapped to the head, then back to Mat. He looked the part, Dennon would admit. The woman tilted her head.

"A herald. I thought that was just a story?" A man Dennon had never met appeared next to them, smiling widely.

"Ah, but what are stories if not the dreams of man? And I have dreamt of freedom for a very long time, I have. How about you, hmmn? What do you dream about?"

"I— Ah," Dennon paused, blinking. Mat's body blurred, like he was covered entirely in red. More blood loss weirdness. Right?

"I dream of seeing my sister again. Of holding my niece and bribing her with candy. I dream of… of… I dream of going to bed without fear." The stranger's smile turned wishful.

"Ah, family. Mine is somewhat of a viper pit, but I understand the feeling. You get to go home now, my good man. Freedom for us all. Isn't that what heralds are supposed to be? A red tide of change?"

"Change," Dennon murmured. He… he could go home? Away from the domus? He— he didn't have to fight again. No more death matches. No more slop. No more fear. Dennon looked at Obedias' head, and Mat seemed to loom over the crowd, larger than life. Larger than anything. Like a; "Herald!" The woman next to him flinched back, but the one next to her picked up the call, her tone filled with the kind of disbelieving hope Dennon felt to his very core. The stranger grinned, his own tone just shy of mocking.

"Herald!"

"Herald!" some man shouted, on the other side of the crowd. His tone was filled with rage, with pain, and Dennon slammed his fist against the wall." Herald!" More shouting. More banging. Dennon screamed out the name, not even really knowing why. No, he knew why. For vengeance. For all the pain and horror that plagued his dreams. For his friend, who would never see his son again. Dennon slammed his fist against the wall, seething to tear Obedias limb from limb. But he didn't need to.

A Herald of Blood had come, and as the hallway filled with the droning of feet, with the bellowing of hatred, Dennon screamed and screamed until he felt like his voice would give out. I'm going home. What does that mean? Mat asked, too tired to do much more than stand there. There must have been over a hundred people crammed in the hallway, and the noise rose until he felt like his eardrums would give out again. Nova? The AI cleared his throat, sounding positively gluttonous.

"Hmmn? Oh, uuhm. It's an old story thingy. Something something bad people make their own worst enemies kind of stuff. Heralds of Blood are supposedly bladeslaves who rise up and kill their masters, so I suppose you fit? Missy Moana was one." Who?

"Doesn't matter. Good god, Obedias is tasty. Just go stand there and wave to your adoring crowd, or whatever. I'm busy. You did remember to connect to Obedias' dataslad? Oh, right, no, you did. Nevermind." Helpful. Mat moved forward, because the crowd was getting a smidge wild. Hells, the only one who didn't seem to be screaming in fervor was Stef, who instead looked vaguely disgusted. Well, her and Yon. And Reg, though the man was smiling.

Tobi, though, seemed almost suspiciously smug, arms slung over the shoulder of a man and woman. Jason, the traitor, was bellowing about heralds and blood like all the rest. The only thing that stopped Mat from rolling his eyes was the rage. The feeling of intensity. Mat had known he was far from the only one who'd been angry. Hell, the uprising wouldn't have worked otherwise. Still, this was… much. Maybe even too much. The bladeslaves parted as he limped outside, where he only met more.

These ones, thankfully, merely looked confused, though he had little doubt that display would circulate through the ship before long. For now, though, he just wanted to sleep, and wake up not feeling like absolute shit.

"Was this the plan all along?" Bea asked. Mat startled, twisting to see her stalk from a side passage. Her blade was wet with fresh blood, but she didn't seem angry. Not that she needed to be to kill him.

"People have tried to turn bladeslaves into an army before. Few went as far to get themselves enslaved, but they have tried. The kit, the AI, the planning. All of it to help the lie." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Mat paused before answering, then sagged against the wall, sliding down. Jesus fucking Christ I'm tired.

"No."

"No?"

"No," he repeated.

"It wasn't a lie, it wasn't a plan, and I didn't look to be declared a herald, whatever the fuck that really is." Bea stalked up to him, squatting until her face was level with his own. She stayed outside the range of local omniscience, he noted.

"Then how? I have seen much, Matthias. The wealth of entire armies sunk into one man, prototypes that boggle the mind and nanobots so advanced they are magic more than science. Nothing, nothing, explains what you have done."

"I'll tell you," he replied.

"But not right now. Soon, when Reg and Tobi and Jason are there too. They deserve to know, but it's not something I'm going to blurt out in this random hallway. So I guess you either decide if that's good enough, or you kill me. Frankly, I'm feeling shitty enough that I don't really care." That wasn't entirely true, but closer than usual. Medibots would fix him up, eventually, and Untiring ensured he wouldn't simply collapse in the meanwhile, but everything was pain.

His muscles hurt, his bones hurt, half his skin was bruised and his chest felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Fuck, his neck was still bleeding, though he'd slapped on a bandage. Bea glared at him, and he just kind of… looked at her. Exhaustion more than bravery kept his face even, and she finally scoffed, turning away.

"Fine. Your wounds will heal, herald. I can't say the same for those of others." The woman stalked off, and Mat could see a row of syringes in her pocket, bulging out like a chipmunk. Bea, he contemplated, was a good person. He spat out some blood, nodding to himself. Perfectly normal, spitting blood. Nothing to worry about there.

"Ah, good, you have a moment," Nova said, sounding positively gleeful.

"Don't worry, I doubt Bea would have hurt you. She's too nice for that. Anyway, I broke through the encryption on Obedias' dataslad. His money is now our money, because he was paranoid and didn't link his identity to the accounts. Well, most of the money. A good chunk of it, at least." How much?

"About two million, all in all. Credits, that is." Those close to a dollar? Nova sighed.

"Yes, you caveman. That's pretty much a dollar. Who cares about centuries of economics and trade equalization to create a stable, galactic currency, right? Fuck those people. It has the buying power of the dollar in roughly the year two thousand and seven, not that you asked. Or have had need of this knowledge before now." At least that solves that problem, I guess. Money to go anywhere we want, and do whatever. Probably hiding.

"Exciting," Nova muttered.

"Hey, have you noticed that some perks are unbalanced? Your strength one, for example, came from level seven, and I used way more energy for that than your level three local omniscience perk. Yet the former makes you merely strong, and the latter is an actual super power." Shouldn't you, you know, be able to answer that yourself?

"I should be able to," Nova answered confidently.

"But I can't, so there's that. Man, I wish I had someone to compare notes with." Mat shuddered. Another me, but loyal to LandTech? I'm sure the corporation that tore a hole straight into hell itself will flinch at killing a whole bunch of people to power level them. Yeah. No way they'll zoom right to level fifty and conquer the galaxy, right?

"Probably less than ideal," Nova admitted.

"But hey, we have money, enough prestige to make Noah wary of purging us, and without Obedias to be a dick, I can actually risk contacting the outside station. All is well." Mat shrugged, and as the general clamor of victory funneled into the ship, he closed his eyes. Only to rest them, or so he intended, but between one moment and the next, he found himself asleep. No nightmare greeted him, nor dreams of pleasant memories. A foot kicked him, and Mat shot awake, seeing Tobi's grinning face looming down on him.

Jason's foot, local omniscience informed him, was just to his side, and it seemed the man had been there a while.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Tobi cooed.

"Did you have a nice nap?" Mat yawned, shaking his head and pushing himself to his feet. Which was actually possible, though somewhat painful.

"Fuck off and die, you traitorous piece of shit. I saw you grinning at me. That whole herald bullshit was your fault, I can feel it in my bones."

"Me?" Tobi asked, sounding deeply affronted. He shrugged after a moment.

"Eh, you know me too well. But I didn't start it, thank you very much. Just fanned the flames a tad. You should have seen Noah's face. Glorious."

"Angry?" Jason snorted.

"He looked like he'd bitten into a lemon, only to find pure gold inside. I can't read that man worth shit."

"People like him are useful, if properly managed," Tobi said, waving his hand.

"Enough about that. There's a problem outside." Nova?

"Two problems, actually," the AI replied.

"There's a small army of mercenaries surrounding the ship, and Obedias buried a data package in the communicator relay. A data package on you, addressed to the Federation. Well, to a lawyer in the Federation, but close enough. That man is fucking us even from beyond the grave." You stopped it?

"Most of it," Nova said, tone a tad hesitant.

"Your name got out, but nothing more. Well, I suppose your name and location, since they can trace the message to the station. Not great, but not that bad either. The fucker was sneaky about it." Of fucking course, but nothing they could do anything about now. Fortunately, LandTech didn't run the galaxy, not even among the Starspawn. Mat grunted, flexing his arm only to flinch. Fucking fuck fuck.

"The army. How many?"

"A few hundred," Jason supplied.

"Well equipped, from the looks of it. Local talent. Stef is putting together a party to meet them, but both Noah and Reg are insisting you should lead it." Mat sighed, nodding. He was up to that, as long as there wasn't any fighting involved.

"Then I volunteer the both of you to come with me. Where's Bea?"

"Saving lives, apparently," Tobi answered.

"Don't look at me like that. It's true." Shaking his head, Mat took a step, then another. After another few his walk smoothed out, and though his knee felt like shit— can't even remember which blow did that— it was serviceable. And considering he was still covered in blood, he probably made for a good visual representation. If those mercs thought to stand between them and freedom, a lot of bladeslaves were going to be pissed. Pissed enough to boil out of the ship and sink their blades into flesh.

Or he hoped so, anyway. Because otherwise, Obedias might claim his life anyway. Nova pointed the way, and the crowd of bladeslaves seemed to have dispersed. Yet they still came across plenty, and every fifth one muttered under their breath. Mat was almost worried, until he actually caught what they mumbled. Herald. So that had spread after all. Damn Tobi.

A reputation was the last thing he needed, and LandTech hearing about the rising bladeslave displaying impossible abilities was high on the list of things he wanted to avoid. Nothing to be done about it. Again. It took nearly twenty minutes to get to the dock, where the ship was apparently connected in one of the hangars. Half empty, but still dozens of crates lined the space. Mat didn't overly care about their contents. Stef greeted them first, her tone flat.

"It's becoming a habit that doors only open on your say so, Matthias."

"Probably because my AI took the ship, Stefenie," Mat replied, a little more snide than he'd intended.

"Reg, Noah." Noah nodded, and Reg smiled.

"My friend. More come to test our faith, I'm afraid. We will have to introduce them to the bladeslaves' hospitality." Jason barked out a laugh, dark and low, and even Stef seemed vaguely amused. Reg had that effect on people. Mat shook his head, glancing around. Fifty, no, sixty of her people. Armed and no wounded between them.

"If this becomes a fight, we're going to need more bodies."

"It can't become a fight," Stef warned, tone quieting.

"We're riding high on victory, but most of our soldiers are wounded, and I doubt they'll be so stupid as to charge inside. That means, if they're paid enough, they'll blow up the ship from out side, and there won't be a damned thing we can do about it." Mat tsked.

"Obedias does pay well, or so a little birdie told me. Did we get a proper look at them?"

"Average stock," Noah said, flicking his hand towards the door.

"Not the best of the best, but better than the rabble we just fought. They'll have weapons, armor and proper biomods. Talking is the best chance we've got to get out of this." Mat shrugged.

"Then let's talk. Noah, Jason and Tobi, you're with me. Stef, Reg, prepare the men. If we need to take the hangar, then we'll bloody well take the hangar, even if I have to carve through them myself. I'll need two teams on intimidation duty, show that it's not just the three of us." He expected someone to laugh. Not that it had really been a joke, but still. Jason, perhaps, if only a snort of amusement. Instead he found Stef just watching him, and Noah simply nodded.

Behind them both, a group of bladeslaves looked on, almost seeming hungry. Mat turned before he made a fool out of himself.

"Open the door." Jason and Tobi joined him easily enough, Noah a few steps behind, and Mat twisted his moleblade in a loose grip. A moleblade he had never quite let go, not since taking Obedias' head with it. The blood he left on, just like the wear and tear. Time to see how badly those mercs wanted to earn the money that Obedias promised them, no doubt held in escrow until their contract was complete. It was a rare man who was willing to die for mere credits. Afterword We got onto Rising Stars!

You know what that means?! At least one more week of daily updates! A huge thanks to everyone who took the time to review the story. That is, most likely, what pushed us onto the vaulted list. Mere words cannot express my gratitude, which now that I'm saying that, isn't a great thing for an author to admit. Because, you know, that's kind of our whole thing. Regardless, we continue, and my greed for clicks only grows deeper. I hope you're happy, because I am. Feed me attention, and I'll feed you stories.

I'm honestly not sure who's getting the better deal on that one. Patreon (No current advanced chapters for this story) Discord