Breachers

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Severed Arm Missile

Joline

Her eyes cracked open, in a jolt of pain and discomfort. The light that came into the room stung. Joline squinted, but everything looked washed out, with colors bleeding together. Her body felt like it had been dropped from a rooftop—twice over. Something wet soaked her side, cold and sticky, smelling like iron.

She wasn't dead. Somehow. Yet, she wished she were.

The room—if you could even call it that—reeked of rot and filth. The walls pulsed like they were breathing, patches of flesh grafted into cracked stone. Twitching veins snaked across every surface.

Joline tried to move, but her arm didn't listen. Neither did her leg. Her breath came in short gasps, weak, each huff reminding her of the numerous broken ribs.

A shape lay beside her. A civilian, by the look of it. Pale. Eyes open. Not blinking. A few paces to the side was another person that was still twitching. A third lay curled up, muttering nonsense, their lips blue. 'Mana sickness? Looks late stage. No coming back from that.'

Voices drifted in. Whispers, hard to catch.

"...Joline..."

She knew that voice. 'Luuk?' It sounded close, yet echoing off the walls. She turned her head, tried to see—but the effort made the room spin, colors bleeding into one another before everything became black again.

- - -

Something cold and wet soaked through her clothes, seeping into her skin and dragging her halfway back to awareness. Joline didn't move. Her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts lagging like they had to push through syrup. Every part of her ached, but the chill on one side kept her grounded.

Somewhere nearby, something hissed. She heard claws scraping against stone, the low guttural sound of a growl too steady to come from anything human, coupled by a person screaming while being dragged away. Panic started to rise, but Joline's body refused to act on it. All she could do was listen.

Then came a voice. Not quite loud, nor clear—just the rhythm of words floating through the air. It wasn't monstrous. It sounded human. Male. Someone is there.

She forced her eyes open, vision sluggish and smeared. Through the haze she caught a shape in the distance, standing tall amidst the shifting shadows. A figure in heavy robes, ash-colored and stained, his face hidden beneath a hood. One hand extended, slow and deliberate.

For a moment she thought—hoped—he was a Breacher. Reinforcements, maybe. Rescue.

But then she saw the creatures clustered around him. Not attacking. Not snarling. They stood still, listening.

One of them tilted its head toward him, as if responding to a master. Another lowered itself to the ground at his feet. The others waited, twitching slightly, but not moving without his lead.

Joline's throat tightened. Her stomach flipped.

She strained to hear the words, her ears catching only fragments. Muted phrases wrapped in static and half-formed noise.

"…harvest… not waste… send… spread…"

It didn't sound like rescue. It sounded like control.

The robed man pointed toward a corpse and the monsters obeyed immediately.

She watched them drag the body toward something fleshy and pulsing in the corner, and even without understanding what came next, dread settled deep in her bones.

She tried to lift her head, to speak, to crawl or scream or do anything—then the world tilted again, the pain surged, and everything went black.

- - -

Something cold pressed against her side.

Joline stirred, groggy, soaked in sweat and half-dried blood. She couldn't move her right arm. Couldn't feel her legs. The air stank of copper, rot, and something sweet and wrong. She blinked up at the ceiling, its surface bulging with veins, pulsing like it was breathing.

She turned her head and froze.

Joline could see stacks of bodies around her, most of them civilian, twisted up and pale. A few still twitched. Some moaned. One, a man, was inside a sack of wet flesh, face stretched in a silent scream. His skin had started to change—patches of it dark, scaled, veiny. One eye swollen, the other gone.

'What the?'

Something dragged a nearby corpse. Joline couldn't see clearly, just make out long, slick chitinous, spidery legs sticking out from its back. It yanked the body over to a half-formed sack growing out of the wall, shoved the corpse into it like loading meat into a grinder. The sack squelched closed.

The monster then stalked closer, dragging one of the barely conscious Breachers behind it, ignoring the man's last weak twitches of resistance. She didn't recognize the man, but the sound he made when he was thrown into the sack stuck with her. A breathless, gagged choke, then nothing as the man started to mutate.

'They're turning us into monsters?' she realized, fear gripping her as she tried to move. Joline's limbs were stuck to the floor. Sticky strands of semi-transparent ooze clung to her body like restraints, burning her where it touched open wounds.

She then heard a soft grunt to her right—Luuk.

He looked just as wrecked as she felt. Pale. Lips cracked, equipment ruined and smeared with blood and muck. Half of his side looked partially burned, as if he had taken a dip in acid, and his legs were broken in several places. His eyes flicked to her. He said nothing, but the look was there—Fear. He then looked past her, staring at the monster closing in.

Its back legs twitched as it scurried around until its attention locked on Joline.

"No," Luuk growled, his voice low at first. "No, you piece of shit. You look at me."

The monster didn't change course, limbs slamming into the concrete floor as it drew closer to the wounded woman.

"I said look at me!" Luuk's voice rose to match the raw emotions that were bleeding out of him. He writhed in place, his frame straining against the ooze that kept him trapped. "Come on, freak! Over here!"

The creature stepped in front of Joline, hissing and clicking.

"You ugly sack of shit! Come eat me, you coward! Come on!" Luuk roared now. "You like 'em fresh, don't you? You listening? You shit-smeared demon-toed coward—I'm right here!"

The creature turned and tilted its head toward the cursing man.

Luuk bared his teeth. Blood smeared his chin. "Yeah, that's right, you gutless, shit-stained, corpse-humping, maggot-ridden bastard! Come get me, you hell-fucked coward!" he roared.

The thing approached him. Legs twitching, body crouched low. One limb raised, aimed at him.

The monster leaned down, shifting its head side to side like it hadn't quite figured Luuk out yet. Its eyes—if you could call them that—stayed fixed on him. Slow steps brought it in front of the man. The clicking of its limbs echoed across the soaked floor as it crouched even lower, pressing its face close to Luuk's and inhaling his scent.

Stolen novel; please report.

"I hope you choke on my bones," he said, grinning wide, teeth red his own blood.

The creature didn't hesitate. One of its back legs punched through his back with a sick twist, sinking deep. Luuk arched. Every muscle in his body jolted at once.

Then the leg lifted. The ooze clinging to his body ripped apart like wet paper as he was pulled up. He hung there, limp but still breathing.

The monster hissed again. Low. It moved him closer like it wanted him to look at it. The second it came face to face with him, Luuk moved, pulling a hidden blade from under his torn belt.

Luuk screamed as he drove the knife straight into the creature's head. Hard. The tip shattered on impact, metal splinters raining down his arm.

Still, he kept stabbing—broken blade, bare fist, anything he had left. The monster didn't flinch. Didn't react. It just cocked its head slowly, like it didn't understand why the man bothered.

Luuk's strength finally gave out a moment later. His arm dropped limp to his side, blood running from his fingers. He looked up at the thing towering over him and grinned—weak, teeth red with blood.

"Fuck you," he whispered, and spat in its face, grinning at seeing his blood and spit drip of the creature.

Then the monster slowly drove a second leg through his gut.

Luuk's body twitched in pain as more blood spilled from his mouth in thick gulps.

He turned his head toward Joline, pale and weak. That same stupid grin somehow still on his face.

"Sorry, lass…" he muttered. "Couldn't let you… go out… before me."

Then it dragged him away. A nearby sack peeling open like rotten fruit. Luuk was slammed inside, the sack sealing around him a moment later.

Joline screamed as she saw Luuk's form inside the sack, fluid rising around him as he thrashed, his shape already starting to warp.

The monster then returned to her. Its face softened, revealing something underneath—almost human, in its own messed-up way. It watched her with interest. Like it knew what came next, and took pleasure from it.

Then it drove a leg through her shoulder and yanked her clean off the floor.

She howled. The pain roared through her, fresh and sharp. She didn't stop yelling.

"You're dead! You hear me? Someone is going to kill every last one of you! They'll tear out your heart and feed it to—"

The creature tilted its head again. One of its long back legs reached forward, brushing the side of her neck, stopping her mid rant.

It then leaned in for a moment, noticing the chain around her neck. Its claw hooked beneath the metal and pulled, exposing two rings dangling from the links.

The monster leaned in further, face inches from hers, and reached forward with one long, thin finger, gently cupping the rings.

Joline swung her left arm as hard as she could, fist smashing into the creature's face. It didn't move. Didn't blink. It just tanked the hit while continuing to stare at the rings.

It gave the chain a slow tug. Just enough to feel the tension, like it was waiting to see how it could go.

She hit it again. Harder. Something popped in her hand as she hit it again and again, burning through what little mana she had left in her system. She didn't stop. Her knuckles tore open, bone grinding against bone, but she kept punching, screaming with every blow. She didn't care. Couldn't care.

Behind the creature, Luuk's body changed more rapidly—his skin giving way to scales, his mouth mutating beyond recognition. The only thing that remained were his wide eyes.

Seeing it, something broke inside Joline. She grabbed the limb skewering her right shoulder and pulled herself further on it, bit by bit. She gritted her teeth, pain exploding through her body. Then, when she was close enough, she slammed her forehead into the thing's face.

It didn't react to the impact. It just continued to stare at the rings.

She hit it again. And again. Blood ran into her eyes as her face opened up even more.

The monster then pulled harder on the chain until it snapped, letting the rings clatter on the ground, rolling away from her.

It then lifted her closer, forcing her to see nothing but its horrible face.

"Next," it said, in a voice like crushed gravel and heat-warped metal. Then it tilted its head the other way and spoke again. Same voice, but deeper this time. A snarl underneath the word.

"Brrrreacherrrrr."

The sound dragged out, full of spite. Its eyes—if they were eyes—didn't blink.

Then it started walking. Dragging her through the room by the leg still buried in her shoulder.

Joline couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Blood poured from her. Her good arm hung limp down her side. The bad one was ruined because of the injury. Everything was cold and fading.

She saw the sack at the end. Already open. Waiting.

The creature chuckled. Not a real laugh—something between a hiss and a man choking to death. She knew that sound would follow her into whatever came next.

Her chest rose and fell frantically as she felt herself passing out again.

She saw her mother, brushing her hair back in their old home. Dad, lifting her up in that old gym of his, telling her not to be scared of the rough men there. Her little brother, grinning like a dork, showing off a project that he had made. Her older brother, hands balled into fists, standing in front of her, facing a stray dog that was growling at her.

'I'm dead,' she realized, the truth gripping her like ice. 'I'm never going to see my brothers again.'

Then something snapped.

The monstrous limb holding her upright dropped—severed. She hit the floor with a jolt that woke her up again. She rolled over, pain flashing in sharp, hot waves. Blood soaked her side. She blinked through it, vision swimming.

Vaguely, Joline saw someone step between her and the monster.

The man had metal feet and wore worn black clothes, a torn rain cloak covering most of his features. He was clutching a black sword, dripping with fresh blood.

She blinked again and tried to focus. The sight of the man tugged at memories she couldn't quite place. She'd seen the man before. Somewhere.

Her heart skipped when it suddenly came back to her, coupled with a jolt of adrenaline.

'The hospital. He's the one who attacked Marcus.'

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized it was him.

'Why is he here?'

Blue mist bled from the man's body—thick, slow, like smoke underwater. It curled in the air around him, drifting with every movement he made. Joline's vision blurred again, spots dancing across her eyes as the man and the monster fought in front of her.

She heard it more than saw it.

Metal dragging through flesh. Claws scraping stone. A heavy thud that rattled the floor beneath her. A rush of wind, close enough to stir her hair. Steel smashing against something hard. Screeches. Human grunts.

Then she felt claws digging into her side.

Pain flared so bright she almost blacked out. She screamed. Her body jolted, adrenaline pumping, forcing her eyes to focus again.

She saw the cloaked man again, his sword cleaving through the monster's legs in front of him. The blue mist rolled in heavier now, thick enough to taste—unnerving, like charged metal.

'He's a Breacher?'

The monster reeled, charging forwards and changing direction at the last second, lunging towards Joline.

She didn't even have time to scream, let alone process what was happening, before the man stepped out in front of her.

In that split second, she saw her brother again, standing in front of her to protect her from that stray dog. It was the same posture.

The creature slammed a limb straight through the man's shoulder—the same spot where Joline had been stabbed. Unlike her, he didn't react to the pain. Didn't make a sound. The man just tanked the hit, keeping the monster pinned down.

Another monstrous limb followed, piercing deeper into the already-impaled shoulder and ruining it even further.

The man yanked himself free in a sudden surge of air-pressure, ripping off his ruined arm as he shot forward. He ducked under the next swipe and drove his sword straight into the creature's chest. He then braced his remaining hand, palm pressed flat against the hilt and a terrible explosion of wind blasted outward.

The sword exploded through the other side of the creature's body, blowing a spray of meat and black ichor across the room. Bits hit the floor, still twitching. The monster staggered before it dropped to its knees. Remaining arms curled around the hole in its chest like it thought it could keep everything in as blood gushed out.

The man just moved closer and grabbed the monster's jaw, planted a foot on the throat, and started pulling.

Bone cracked and flesh tore before the jaw came free, along with an orchestra of hisses and blood-filled gurgles.

He took the jaw, jammed one of the sharp ends into the monster's throat, and used it like a hook. The man then dragged the still-twitching creature backward toward the wall, pinning it in place there.

Joline's vision dipped again. Everything wobbled. Colors bled together. Her head lolled sideways just in time to see the man walking over to where his severed arm lay in the muck. He looked down at it, tilted his head a little as he muttered, "Left again?"

His voice hit something in her—like a wire yanked taut in her chest.

She didn't understand it. Not fully. Could barely hold on to the sound. But it sounded safe, familiar in the way lightning flashes before thunder. Something warm bloomed in her gut, even through the pain.

"Dad?" she whispered, too soft for anyone to hear. Her lips barely moved. 'He sounds like dad!'

The man crouched down, grabbed his ruined arm, and stood up again like it weighed nothing. He just grabbed it and started walking.

He didn't rush. Step by step, slow and steady—like he wanted the thing to know he was coming to end it. The creature tried to move. Tried to crawl or dig its way out from where it was hooked. But its body wasn't listening anymore. Blood poured from its face, from the ragged hole in its chest, from the ruined mess where its jaw used to be.

The man stopped in front of it and stared at it for a while.

Then his head dipped low, forcing the monster to look up, eyes locking.

"No one hurts my sister and lives," he hissed, yet the words hit like a shockwave as more blue mist burst from his body—a violent, heavy discharge of pure mana, flooding the room like a second sun had cracked open inside his chest. Even from where she lay, Joline felt the pressure of it, like the world itself flinched.

The man then rammed his severed right arm straight into the monster's gaping throat.

The sound didn't even feel real—wet, awful, full of choking, garbled noise as the stump punched deep into the thing's neck, forcing it downward. Then a blast of air—sharp and sudden—erupted from the man's palm, pressing down on his severed limb.

The effect was immediate.

The arm turned into a missile, ripping through the inside of the creature's body like it had a vendetta of its own. Meat shredded. Bones snapped. Blood sprayed from the gaping chest wound as the arm finally tore through the other side, punching out, dragging a mess of ruined flesh with it.

The creature spasmed and made some final, desperate noise that never quite became a scream.

The man just watched it all, gaze locked onto the thing's face as the light started to fade behind its many warped pupils. Then, like it was nothing, he reached forward. His hand slipped behind its head and gripped the Orb there.

A wet crack followed, along with a spray of gore, as he tore the light blue Orb out—slick and pulsing, caked in blood and bits of bone and brain matter.

Joline watched through flickering sight, her breath shallow, her heart barely keeping pace. Her thoughts weren't right anymore. Slipping. Sliding.

'His sister?' she thought, confusion flooding through her as black spots danced across her vision. "Marcus?" she whispered, barely audible.

The man knelt down, slow and careful, and picked up the broken necklace with the rings still attached. He then turned to face her, showing three glowing blue lenses focused on her from underneath his hood, revealing a strange metal face.

"Just hold on, Joline," he said, voice quiet but sure. Voice just like Marcus. "I've got you."

And then she passed out.