Chapter 51: The Parallax of Metal and Technology
Double update again, to celebrate both fifty chapters and the one-year anniversary of the story! Make sure you didn't miss the Chapter 50 Q/A!
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Jarod Blastreyne strode through town in the early morning sunlight, carefully avoiding the qilins milling around. He was sorely tempted to shoot every single one where they stood, but knew that doing so would be unprofitable. So, while he kept his finger on the trigger, he made the short trip between his caravan and Motormouth's without shooting anything.
With a flourish he swept away the debris jamming the caravan's doors shut and smashed the door open, finding the lights within dimmed and, in his bunk, Motormouth was still snoring like a freight train.
"Wake up!" Jarod commanded, leaning over the Metal Maker mage. Immediately, he man's eyes shot open, and Motormouth was shocked to find his guild master leaning over him. "Master! What are you doing in my caravan over my bed? I really don't think this is very proper wouldn't it be better for you to -"
"Shut up," Jarod commanded, and, gulping, Motormouth nodded, pulling himself out of bed as his master retreated
"Get up and come with me. The situation has escalated while you were snoozing. I'm going to need your skills," Jarod commanded.
"Really? What happened? Did some of the animals esca -" The death-glare Jarod cast him silenced the man at once, and Motormouth nodded. "Just tell me what to do sir,"
Beckoning, the head hunter left, and Motormouth hastily followed.
~P's E~
"Any idea what we're looking for?" Tyria asked, and Pierce shrugged. "I guess, just, anything, really. Keep in mind, though, the hunters will probably try a sneak attack. Be alert for the slightest detail being out of place,"
The five wizards were all standing on the front porch of the shrine, watching the village, alert for any attack.
"Hey, I think I see something," Grace observed, squinting. "There's someone coming towards us!"
"Who is it?" Pierce asked, and Boomer frowned. "Is it a hunter?"
Eve shivered, but did her best to keep herself controlled.
"Maybe? He doesn't look much like a hunter, though," Grace observed as the lone figure she was focusing on advanced up the gentle incline.
"Why not?" Tyria asked with a small smile. Grace's descriptions were hilarious and she always enjoyed hearing them.
"Well, for one thing he's wearing pyjamas," the young Dragon Slayer pointed out.
"What?" Pierce blinked, squinting. Sure enough, the man advancing on them, with his spiky black hair, pinched, triangular face and furrowed monobrow, was wearing only a set of grey pyjamas and a pair of boots, with a rifle strapped over his back. "The hell?"
"I'll go take this guy down. The rest of you keep an eye out," Tyria commanded, striding forwards. Pierce nodded. "Alright. Good luck,"
The tech wizard strode forwards, ready to meet the hunter. "Oi! What are you up to?" she demanded.
Motormouth didn't respond, simply continuing to walk towards the shrine.
"Hello?" Tyria waved, planting herself directly in front of him. But it was as though she were invisible; the hunter just walked around her.
The Electrian fumed as he walked straight past her. "Fine. TechType: Tectonics!" she declared, throwing a mechanised haymaker at Motormouth.
A steel barrier shot out of the ground to intercept her blow, as the man spun around and faced her, with a silver magic circle in his hands. His wild-looking visage gleamed at her.
"Can you just talk already?" Tyria irritably demanded as the shield retracted, and they faced each other for a moment.
"You . . want me to talk?" Motormouth blinked.
"Well, I don't like fighting in silence," Tyria pointed out, folding her arms as her spell shut off.
"Well that's amazing no one's ever wanted me to talk before sometimes people tell me that it's because I talk too much and they say that I can't ever shut up but that's just silly I mean I'm sure that I'd notice if I talked that much I mean I think it's really just that other people don't talk enough if you know what I mean besides don't we all just have lots and lots of words buried deep inside that we really want to say but can't for reasons that we don't really understand well I'm just good at letting all those words out but that's enough philosophy you're a guilder and I'm a hunter so I suppose it's inevitable that we fight actually now that I think about it didn't you just say something about that before because I'm totally down with that but first we should introduce myself I'm Motormouth head of resource management in Severed Tusk I make all the fun things like cages and guns with my Metal Maker magic speaking of which it looks like you use metal magic too but a kind that's a bit different to mine but that's still cool metal is metal no matter what form it takes if you get what I'm saying which by the confused and somewhat shocked look in your eyes I'm guessing you don't but that's alright we can work it out together after I've finished beating you up also while I'm on that subject I'm really sorry that I'll have to do that but it's master's orders and you can't go against your guild master you know . . ."
The Electrian blinked, incredulous, as Motormouth rambled on and on without any signs of slowing down. "I think I changed my mind. I don't want you to talk," she commented, but her words were lost in her opponent's babble.
". . . so I'll spare you the details of how I joined the guild because we are supposed to be fighting and I think that I might have delayed that too long as it is so let's get to it don't you agree and I can see that you do so I'll kick things off with my Metalmake: Spikes!" Tyria frantically dodged as a series of steel spikes erupted from the ground where she had been standing and glared at her opponent, who was still talking. ". . . it's a real shame that my attack didn't hit you but that's alright because that's only a fraction of my power and I still have plenty more to throw at you . . ."
"Okay, so this guy never, ever shuts up. Alright then," Tyria noted, preparing herself as he launched another attack, ". . . but either way I still have to hit you with my Metalmake: Ramrod and hopefully that will . . ." A large girder shot from the ground and smashed into Tyria's chest, knocking her backwards. ". . . that certainly got you good if I do say so myself so hopefully I can keep this up because I definitely feel like I can . . ."
On a sudden impulse, Motormouth remembered the fact that he was armed. With a flick, he pulled his gun out from the holster on his back and pointed it at Tyria. ". . . okay now let's see how you deal with this . ." Tyria almost felt like laughing at the gun; her attacks were bulletproof. "TechType: Machine Gun II!" With a few well-placed shots, she blasted the weapon out of the hunter's hands and sent it skidding away - and promptly got nailed in the face with a metal cannonball Motormouth had apparently thrown.
Tyria exhaled, trying to stay calm. She wasn't doing a very good job . . the Caladrius' words had helped, but she was still feeling antsy. She just wanted to hit him, hard . . so surely there was no harm in a bit of overkill. It would be frowned upon by most, but she didn't really care at present. "Gear Change!" she commanded, and her eyes lit up blue as her hair shifted into silver spikes with electricity playing through them. "Mark: Second!"
". . . can honestly say that I don't really know what that means but it looks pretty cool and I have to give you props for the appearance so by all means do your worst because I'm sure I can take it . . ."
Time for a classic, Tyria grinned. For years the Blitzkrieg had been her strongest attack, since, while she'd only gotten strong enough to use Mark III shortly after the Ghoulia incident, she'd had Mark II since before she left Electria. The Blitzkrieg had been her first really strong attack that she'd coded, and using it always felt like meeting an old friend. An old friend that kicked ass, mind. "TechType Mark II: Forty-Eight Peg Gear Blitzkrieg!" she invoked, and the familiar massive gears appeared on her arms, driving her forwards to launch a biting attack at Motormouth.
". . . oh hey that's a really cool attack you know I actually have one just like it how about I show it to you Metalmake: Roller let's see how you deal with this . . ." A massive steamroller wheel appeared Motormouth's hands and he forced it forwards as it spun, carrying him with it to meet Tyria head-on. The two attacks collided, grinding against one another for a moment and kicking up orange sparks where they met, before both eventually knocked each other away, sending the two wizards flying a few feet apart.
Tyria panted. "No one's ever done that before," she commented. Never before had someone countered her using a similar attack with equal strength in order to cancel the attacks out. It was . . . actually rather clever. Too circumstantial to use regularly, but definitely a strategy to remember.
". . . really have to say that I think that went rather well but I can't help but notice that I'm now really close to the shrine which was my objective all along and you're all the way over there so it's been fun fighting you but I really have to get back to the task at hand so terribly sorry about that . . ." Tyria, who had been mostly tuning out the constant fountain of words Motormouth poured out, paused, hearing this. "Wait, what?" she demanded, noticing too late that the hunter had entered the pillar-supported awning around the shrine and was standing directly in front of the thick marble wall that was the only thing between him and the Divine Caladrius herself. The other Phoenixes were all around the sides and back of the temple, keeping watch for any other attacks.
"Metalmake!" Motormouth clasped his hands together, before spreading palms wide, and a symmetrical spiderweb of metal spread across the wall in front of him. "Super-Destructive TNT-Drill-Thingy!"
"Well, that's one way to name an attack," the Electrian muttered as she recovered, preparing to retaliate in order to distract Motormouth from his spell, but she underestimated his speed and the efficiency of the hunters' set-up. In a massive flash, the wall exploded, reduced to dust in an instant, and in the same second, long ropes woven from threads of steel arced out of the village, where Tyria only now noticed Jarod Blastreyne (not that she recognised him) directing a group of underlings. For a second she caught sight of the Divine Caladrius looking startled at the destruction of her back wall, but then the metal ropes shot over her head and through the gap, immediately winding around her and binding her wings to her sides, and then the restraints sparked with electricity, immediately shocking the demigod into unconsciousness.
A vein in her neck pulsed, and Tyria fumed, determined not to let the sacred bird be captured. "Pierce! Everyone! Help! TechType, um, oh! TechType Mark II: Electrostatic Blade Dance!" she invoked, allowing the sharpened metal sears to manifest on her arms as her feet shifted into rollerblades. The sharp ends of the spears were her only sharp attack; she usually preferred to bludgeon or shoot at things. Situations like this, where she had to cut something, usually didn't come up . . even so, she resolved to code a TechType: Chainsaw when she next had some free time.
Ejecting a spear into each of her hands, she started using them as melee weapons to cut at the ropes binding the unconscious Caladrius, even as they started to retract, dragging the demigod out of her shrine, and . . halting as she got caught between the pillars that held up the external sections of the roof.
". . no no no I won't let you interfere with our ultimate capture plans so have a taste of my Metalmake: Ramrod again it's really gonna knock you off your feet . . ." The same steel pillar appeared and knocked Tyria away from the ropes, causing her spears to fly out of her hands. As she picked herself up out of the dirt, feeling a bruise start to swell on her stomach, she noticed that Motormouth was pounding at the pillar between the two ropes reeling the Divine Caladrius in. She struggled to her feet, and, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two things; firstly, that Motormouth had successfully destroyed the pillar, allowing the hunters at the bottom of the hill to continue dragging the demigod towards them once more, and secondly; that Pierce and Eve were rushing around the side of the shrine to back her up.
Tyria glared at Motormouth, who seemed to be doing some kind of victory dance, and decided that it was time to pull some stops out. "Gear Change: Mark Third!" she commanded, and intricate black gear tattoos ran down her arms and legs as her gear wings manifested out of condensed ethernano. With a few commands to the HUD in her vision, she spread her wings wide and charged them, building pulses of blue energy in seconds, before commanding; "TechType Mark III: Redacted Variable Hyperlaser!" A massive blue laser arced from the focal point of each individual gear's blast, and the resulting blast of energy slammed straight into Motormouth's back, sending him flying away into one of the surviving parts of the shrine, immediately knocking him out.
But the damage had been done; the unconscious Caladrius was being dragged towards the waiting gang of hunters, who had already prepared a massive cage on wheels attached to the back of Jarod Blastreyne's caravan, which in turn was still rigged to the large, beetle-like monster. Setting her jaw, Tyria was about to rush and help -
And then a stabbing pain shot through her leg.
She collapsed, wings folding and disappearing, and she spotted her leg, which was leaking blood. Dimly, Tyria realised that she had been shot. "And to think I was so dismissive of that other guy's gun," she exhaled with a faint chuckle.
~P's E~
Eve stopped dead when she heard the gunshot ring out. She saw a fat man in overalls wielding a rifle standing a few feet away from Tyria, who had just collapsed, and . . she couldn't control it. Her body just felt like it froze out of sheer panic. She wanted to help, but didn't . . . couldn't . . . there was nothing she could do.
~P's E~
Pierce had been rushing towards the Divine Caladrius to help, but the noise of the gun caught his attention. He cast a glance over - and gulped.
Kroeber was advancing on Tyria with his gun. He was too far away and he wouldn't be able to reach her and his meagre ranged arsenal would barely slow the hunter down! A light of panic appeared in his blue eyes, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop Tyria from being killed - and a glint on the ground caught his attention.
Motormouth's gun, the one that he had dropped during his fight. It was lying right at his feet.
~P's E~
He would never forget the way the blizzardvern fell to the ground in an undignified heap, blood spurting from a hole in her neck, when his father shot her out of the sky.
~P's E~
He tried to slow his breathing, attempting to hold the barrel of the gun steady, pointed as it was at the throat of the adolescent basilisk. But the enormity of what he was doing was inescapable, it swallowed his senses, wreaking havoc on his nerves.
He stepped back. "I can't do it,"
~P's E~
He braced the gun over his knee in the broken-open chimera pen and snapped it in two, and in that moment, promised himself that never again would he wield a weapon like that.
~P's E~
And, seeing Tyria about to die, in that moment it was all swept away. Setting his gaze firmly, he snatched up the discarded rifle, and, within the space of a second, sighted along the barrel and fired.
Tyria flinched, as the hunter crouching over her, about to bury a bullet in her skull, suddenly span away and collapsed, blood erupting from a hole in his chest.
Motormouth's rifle fell out of Pierce's shaking hands, and he pressed them to his chest, holding in shivers. The way that the gun had kicked in his hands . . he never wanted to feel that again.
Suddenly, Grace, emerging from a hole in reality, was with him. "Pierce?" she asked, patting his arm.
"Yeah?" Doing his best to swallow his emotions and focus on the situation at hand, the Tamer focused on his adoptive sister, and Grace pointed. "They're getting away with the Caladrius,"
Pierce looked up, and saw that Jarod, with the rag-tag leftovers of his operation that hadn't already been captured or worse, had finished loading the Divine Caladrius into the wheeled cage and was preparing to make his escape, pointed in the direction where they had been told a passage down the mountain existed.
"Oh, hell no," Pierce growled, and Requipped his flute.
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Ooh yeah. For the record, that last scene? Where Pierce uses a gun to rescue Tyria? . . . I HAVE BEEN PLANNING THAT SCENE FOR FORTY CHAPTERS. XD
And every moment of his brief flashbacks was taken from Chapter 11, BTW, so if you need a reminder, go back there.
Also, some of you might be wondering why Tyria didn't just eat Motormouth's attacks. Well, there are two reasons for that; firstly, Tyria can eat technology. Not metal. If Motormouth's attacks were refined and complex enough to count as tech, she could, but most of them aren't. And secondly, she's still trying to keep it secret. If she'd eaten the attacks, someone might have seen.
Anyway. Next chapter; the long-awaited final showdown between Pierce and his father! Peace!
