Chapter 38: Wounds of War
Ray's day off had been uneventful, to an uncomfortable degree.
Had he just gotten used to all of the recent fighting? Was the peace within Incursia not stimulating enough, now that he didn't need to hunt down a Genesis Core or drag himself through the wilds? Fornax had promised him a new, lower-risk task like guard duty in a controlled sector, but did he want that? Whatever the case, he wasn't going to object to his new assignment, not when he suspected Fornax was less impressed with his performance than she let on. Maybe. It was difficult to tell with her.
He tried to spend the day resting and recovering like he wanted to, but his sudden lack of an objective was making him anxious. He busied himself by practicing his sword strikes against a wooden dummy of a zombie in the GCRB's training center, or by manipulating patches of grass in one of the compound's small indoor gardens, or even by just wandering the halls and gazing out the windows at the streets of wider Incursia, yet none of it quelled the sense that he'd somehow lost a purpose in life. Damn it all, did Ray miss chasing Blake and the Countess?
The next morning eventually arrived, and with it a small chest, left outside the door to his quarters. Inside he found an iron sword, a shiny new suit of havenite armor, a new mask, and a note from Fornax with directions on where to go to begin his new assignment. He tucked the sword and the note in his inventory and donned the mask and armor, feeling a strange discomfort as he put on each piece. The suit was of top-notch craftsmanship, likely thanks to a recent breakthrough in the havenite refining process: it felt sturdier than his old armor yet not much heavier. But something about wearing it only worsened his growing anxiety, and not even putting on his familiar cloak over the metal gave Ray much comfort.
"I'm losing it in here, I need to just get on with this already."
He shuffled through the GCRB's quiet halls, passing by other Usurpation soldiers who didn't seem to pay him any mind, until he reached the main entrance. A pair of young Industrial agents were present, and on his way out he heard a snippet of their conversation.
"…those Ender Forgers still haven't arrived. I hear Overseer Fornax isn't happy. She was expecting them yesterday afternoon at the latest."
"What could be delaying them? If they want to join us, they'll need to make better time than this."
So their questionable new allies were already failing to meet expectations. Ray couldn't help but give a bitter chuckle as he exited the compound and into the hot air of the badlands, thinking back to Samuel's death. A promising young Usurper, fighting for the chance to give the exiles better lives, who met a pointless end that the Commandant didn't appear to care about whatsoever. He wondered how many other stories played out like that within the Army.
"Ugh, no…! What's WRONG with me? I can't think things like this, it'd make me a… a traitor, or something. Where's my conviction?"
He wished he could muster the fiery resolve with which he'd chased after the dark Bonemeal Core, but it just wasn't coming to him. Not much at all was coming to him.
Ray made his way through the streets, between the many storehouses and armories the Usurpation had built, all the while keeping his head bowed away from the sun. He'd been awestruck at the warmth and the endless bright blue sky the first time he entered the Inlands, so different were they to the gray clouds of the wastes, but this particular region was just too hot for his liking, and the light too harsh.
Keeping his head down also meant he didn't have to look at the line of miserable slaves marching past, humans and villagers alike, supervised by a trio of Usurpation soldiers.
"This is what they deserve," he told himself. "They've lived in peace and safety forever, while we suffered outside. Is that fair? No. No, it's… not…"
"Please, sir, I-I hurt my leg in the mine… can I just-"
"Don't mouth off to me, Inlander," one of the guards snapped at the cowering villager. "If I hear you complaining again, your leg's going to be the least of your worries."
Ray picked up the pace, but there was no escaping the sights and sounds of the Usurpation's dominance. When he finally reached the eastern outer sector, he found it to be more peaceful than Incursia's center, yet no less depressing. The buildings were of Inlander design; this had been a village before the invasion. Though the badlands were hot and dry, with little in the way of resources, he could tell the inhabitants had made it work. They'd come together to survive, to make something of themselves despite the harsh environment.
"They… cooperated…"
He needed something to distract him. Anything.
Ray made his way to the only Usurpation building present: the cobblestone guard tower, where a simple barracks and armory had been placed for the rotating security teams. Before he could enter, another soldier stepped out the door. He wore the older model of havenite armor, but his suit was spotless, and even the rags tied around his waist were cleaner than most. He didn't have a helmet on, and he was covering his eyes from the sun, squinting at Ray as he approached.
"You're not here to take over for us, are you?"
"I don't think so. Overseer Fornax assigned me to join the guards posted in this sector."
The soldier sighed. "You must be Sir Ray. We were notified someone from the GCRB would be coming here, but I'd hoped that meant my squad was getting rotated out sooner. Is it just you?"
"She didn't mention anyone else."
"Right, right… well, I'm Sir Damian, leader of Expansion Defense Squad 12. You've landed at about the most boring position in Incursia. Nobody raises a fuss, and there aren't even any mobs that get in here thanks to the outer wall."
Ray might have appreciated the prospect of such a simple task a day ago. Now, though…
"There's nothing to do here, but I guess I'll show you around," Damian continued. "Come with me."
He did as told, following Damian into the village square, where a few slaves were tending to a planter. They at least didn't seem to be under the constant threat of beating, and went about their task in silence, with blank expressions. The bored-looking Expansion guard supervising them was leaning against one of the nearby houses, but hastily stood at attention when Damian and Ray approached.
"At ease, Five. Anything to report?"
"All quiet here, Sir Damian. Same as usual."
"I figured as much. As you were."
They carried on, occasionally passing more laboring Inlanders or Usurpation troops lazily patrolling the area. The village's buildings, once shops or homes, had been reduced to little more than barren living quarters for the slaves. Ray was glad to have his new mask on, because he wasn't sure he could look anyone in the eye as he shuffled along.
"I hope you don't mind your talents going to waste here, whatever they are," Damian was saying. "My squad was formed by Marshal Volans himself, and we were some of the earliest arrivals. I was there when he gave that speech to the first Inland settlement we conquered, you know. Ever since, it's been nothing but guard duty for us. I don't even have a Genesis Core, can you believe that?"
He didn't say anything.
"And we're not even being given the chance to prove ourselves! Marshal Volans is off fighting the Iron Garrison in the north, but instead of bringing us with him, he left us here, so Crux could lord over us and suck up to the Commandants. It's like he forgot we've been with him since the beginning."
Ray had only heard of Volans in passing before then. Supposedly he was one of the Expansion Division's best strategists, but otherwise the man was a mystery to him.
Damian's rant ended as they reached the outer wall of Incursia, a red sandstone barrier six blocks high with small guard towers spaced along it every few chunks. Their particular section included the eastern gate, a system of sticky pistons and brick walls which rose from the ground to block entry. It didn't strike Ray as the most impregnable defense, but with so few settlements in that region it seemed more designed to keep mobs out rather than enemy soldiers. They climbed one tower to get a better look at the land beyond, full of terracotta hills leading as far as the eye could see. Somewhere past them to the east, he'd heard the terrain gave way to a desert. As the region was scarcely populated and no Genesis Cores were detected there by Commandant Green's macro-scale tracker, it had gone unconquered for the time being.
"What about you?" Damian was asking. "Have you done anything exciting so far?"
Ray wouldn't have described his experiences in such a way, but he answered nonetheless. "Well… I was part of the joint detachment that found the Bonemeal Cores."
"That was you?" he sputtered. "Word's been spreading about someone infiltrating Luxmouth and stealing a few Genesis Cores from under their noses! You all could've been promoted just for that, so what're you doing here?"
"I'm not sure. This is just what Overseer Fornax wanted me to do for now." He couldn't find the strength to explain the story wasn't nearly as glamorous as it sounded.
"Well then, is it true that the Ice Queen herself is in trouble? I heard she had something to do with Marshal Orion's-"
BOOM.
Ray's ears were still ringing well after the thunderclap had died down, and the flash of light left blurry blotches in his vision. As his sight slowly returned, he saw the smoke rising from one of the village houses bordering the city wall just a few chunks away, which had burst into flames.
"What just happened?!" he asked, barely able to hear his own voice.
Damian was looking through his enchanted communications book, the sigil on which was glowing fiercely. "I'm getting the reports already… there's a riot going on!"
Ray had wished for something to distract him, but yet again he found his mind changing as he listened further.
"Inlanders in the sector over from us have stolen equipment that was being transported from the Expansion Headquarters. There was a Genesis Core in that shipment…"
"Are there any casualties?" Ray asked.
Damian gulped. "I don't know… the details are too scarce right now. We've lost contact with the defense team stationed over there."
The situation must not have been dire enough for Ray's luck, because when his ears finally stopped ringing he heard the unmistakable sounds of battle, the clashes of metal and the cries of desperate combatants. A moment later, one of Damian's troopers ran out from behind one of the walls they'd passed, shakily gripping a sword.
"Sir! We've got Inlanders rioting in our sector!"
"Here too?! We're near the eastern gate, they'll come right for us!"
There was a second flash of lightning, this time much closer to them. Sure enough, whatever or whoever was causing it was approaching their position. Ray pulled out a coil of grass from his inventory, bracing himself for the battle to come and- as was the case more and more lately- not looking forward to it in the least.
Celia had traveled the Lux Plains plenty of times, but she'd never been so far east. The rolling grasslands, the flower fields, and the bright sky above were hardly new sights to her, yet being in a new place far from home lent them a sense of freshness. In spite of the war, it felt good to be out there, seeing new places with her odd group of friends.
"You know what this place needs? Roads. We could pave it with concrete or smooth stone, that'll make it easier to walk on."
Speaking of whom, Blake had clearly seen a different sort of potential in the environment and was voicing his idea to the group.
"That's hardly necessary," she told him. "The terrain is flat enough to make travel simple, and this far from the major cities there wouldn't be much of a point in it. Besides, wouldn't it detract from the natural splendor here?"
"The scenic route doesn't mean much if there isn't some kind of path to guide you along, otherwise you could overshoot your destination. I know the Nether lets us get around quickly, but we can't expect everyone to risk their lives going through it." Blake nodded toward Cupa, who was watching the exchange with a puzzled expression. "And don't forget about Teras. Shouldn't it be easier for them to get out of those woods?"
Celia looked at her as well. "What do you think? Your people have lived in the Dark Acres for so long, would a stone road through it be a welcome change? Such a thing would demand deforestation on a large scale."
Cupa glanced between the two of them, scratching her head. "I'm not really… I mean, if we're gonna connect with other villages, then I guess it'd be a good idea to make it easier to get there, but… the trees… if you think-"
"Nobody's asking you to make a decision right this second," Melissa chimed in, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Definitely not you alone. It'd just be a good idea to talk about with the chiefs once the war's over, when Teras is ready to start branching out more."
The look of relief on Cupa's was a bit surprising, and Celia had to remind herself with some shame that everything from urbanization to even some social nuances were new to her. "Forgive me, I did not mean to overwhelm you…"
"Yeah, I'm sorry too," said Blake. "Guess I got a little carried away thinking about it."
Celia hated to admit it, but they were lucky someone else stepped in before an argument broke out. She didn't know if she felt better or worse about it not being Felix to settle things for once.
"No worries," Cupa replied, "this is just something I'll have to learn, isn't it? It's something ALL the Turned will have to get used to. It's… uh, a little confusing, but we've gotta start somewhere. Are stone roads common in all your towns?"
Felix, who'd been at the rear, picked up his pace to explain. "The streets in Luxmouth's inner districts are paved, and even in the outer ones there are dirt paths to guide people around. Outside of the city, there are a few highways between us and our neighbors, namely Granitetown and Tenebyss."
"Really?" Blake asked. "Why've we been roaming around the countryside, then?
"The Usurpation's scouts have made using the main roads too dangerous. They intercept messengers, and travelers have had little choice but to brave the wilds." Celia vividly remembered when news of the invasion first came in, when contact was lost with the northern town of Sunset Ridge and communication between other settlements became scarce. She remembered the uncertainty, and the first few sleepless nights as she wondered whether the next day would bring news that another city had fallen.
"We heard the same thing in Tenebyss," Melissa added. "Messages just stopped coming in, and nobody was able to leave thanks to all the mobs that had come from the caves." She paused, and her eyes narrowed. "Then again, I doubt that was their fault, if the Ender Forge was behind my family's kidnapping. How much of that did Benedict make up?"
"If this guy's as shady as he sounds, how'd he even get into your business?" asked Cupa. Celia and the others had taken some time to catch her up on their journey, including their recent betrayal.
Melissa frowned. "I was too little at the time to remember, but Galen's told me there wasn't much of a city left when my family brought the company to Tenebyss. Even years after the Ender Forge disappeared, the structure and the population were both in shambles, and it was looking like mobs would overtake what little remained. Benedict was leading a militia of fighters to hold them off when we arrived, so my dad offered him a spot in our business as a show of cooperation."
"So you're not from there," Cupa said. "Where, then?"
"My family's originally from somewhere further south in the Overworld. Our business used to be called Beryl Ore Excavation, and my parents decided to relocate north not long after I was born. We've done everything we could to live in harmony with the remaining citizens, and we've helped them build the city back up for as long as I can remember. We even changed our name to the Tenebyss Ore Excavation Company, as new members of the community."
"And that whole time, there were enemies right under their noses," Celia thought, unhappily. "How awful…"
She'd always wondered what things were like south of the old Lux Kingdom. Theirs was but a small part of the Overworld, yet there was so much history in that little slice, with alliances and wars and the rise and fall of civilizations spanning generations. Even the mysterious Far Lands held more than initially assumed, if the humans invading from it were any indication. What stories did the world beyond hers hold?
"Perhaps the scope of such a question is too large for me… I will have my hands full with THIS region when the war is over."
Well, she wouldn't be able to focus on the rest of the Overworld, but by stopping the invaders she could at least keep it safe, for future generations to reach out to. That would be enough for her.
They kept moving, still intent on covering as much distance as they could before night fell, and only pausing for short breathers. Gwendolyn's attack was still over a week out, but if they arrived early enough they could deliver her the Genesis Cores with time to spare, and her forces could put them to good use.
"Phew, that's a bad smell," said Cupa. "Is that smoke?"
They'd arrived at a hillier part of the plains, and were beginning to climb the less even terrain when she'd made her remark. Celia frowned; whatever scent Cupa was referring to, she couldn't detect it.
"I don't smell anything," Felix replied, also looking confused. "I can't see smoke rising from anywhere, either."
"Positive. It's… nearby, but it's kind of old-smelling. Maybe something was burning a little while ago."
"'Old-smelling?' What does that even mean?" asked Blake.
Cupa pulled her hood down and sniffed at the air again, in a manner not unlike a wolf. "I'm telling you, it's old! I'm sure of it!"
Celia, perplexed, leaned a little closer to Blake and whispered, "Are creepers known for good senses of smell?"
"I've got a good sense of hearing, too," she retorted. "You don't believe me?"
"Why don't you show us where it's coming from?" Felix asked her. "Maybe we're just missing something."
He seemed to stop her from becoming agitated, and Cupa broke into a run over the first few hills. Everyone else hurried to keep up with her, but much like in the Dark Acres she proved far better at navigating uneven ground. Celia didn't know if it was due to her upbringing in the overgrown forest or if she'd retained more traits from being a creeper than she let on, but she definitely wasn't going to risk offending her again by asking. By the time they caught up, she'd come to a dead stop at the top of a taller hill and was staring pensively into the distance.
A few chunks ahead of them sat the unmistakable outline of a village, but even from that far it was clear things weren't right. Celia could make out the scorched rooftops, the razed fields of grass around the perimeter, and the conspicuous absence of inhabitants. It was abandoned, and whatever had happened there must have been recent. Cupa's impressive sense of smell had given them a warning, but their route- and the lack of a clear road to follow- would have led them to stumble upon it regardless.
"I told you," was all she said.
Ray couldn't see the source of the lightning, but the riot had nevertheless arrived. A mob of Inlanders, armed with stolen weapons and farming tools, was advancing up the paths of outer Incursia. The closer they came to the wall, the more people seemed to rally to their cause- there must have been over three dozen and counting. He even spotted several of the passive slaves he'd walked past before with Damian, joining the fray as if they'd been waiting all day for it.
"Were they biding time for this? Have they been planning it?" he wondered as he and Damian climbed down the wall to join the messenger and Defense Squad 12. Four additional troopers rushed to their side, clutching their blades while Damian took stock of the situation.
"Is this it?" he asked. "Where's the rest of the squad?"
It wasn't much of a mystery to Ray. A trail of bodies had been left in the wake of the fighting, and somewhere amidst the chaos he could see a few battered Usurpation soldiers limp on the ground. Barring the assorted patrolling security forces who'd been swept up in the skirmish, he and the six remaining members of Defense Squad 12 were the only ones manning the eastern gate.
"Everyone, form up around the gate controls," Damian said, drawing his sword. "We need to defend this area until reinforcements get here."
"Sir Damian, we're too outnumbered!" one of his soldiers cried. "If we try to block them, we'll be overwhelmed in seconds!"
"They're coming this way," said another.
The Inlanders were running wild, and every successive lightning strike only caused further damage to Incursia. Usurpation soldiers were dying, Inlanders were dying, and it wouldn't be long before the main bulk of the Expansion Division's security forces arrived to quell the uprising anyway. The death and chaos they'd wrought would ultimately gain them nothing but even harsher treatment under Usurpation rule. It was all completely pointless.
This was Ray's chance to turn things around for himself. He could reignite his dedication to the Army's cause and his hatred of the Inlanders in one fell swoop. The anger which had driven him could burn again, hotter than the badlands' sun and redder than their sands, if he just did his part to put down the meaningless riot.
But as he stared down the slaves marching toward the gate, a much different feeling took hold in Ray. He recognized the desperate rage in their faces as they struggled to escape their conquerors. They had almost nothing left to lose, so of course they would fight, if for no other reason than to spite their enemies. Had a similar logic not guided him in the wastes?
He felt none of the potential this situation offered him as a Usurper. Not the dedication, not the anger, and certainly not the drive. He just felt scared.
The mob came to a stop a chunk away. The Inlanders parted, allowing someone to step forward from their midst. It was an older man, his graying hair as dirty as his rugged clothing from work in the mines. He rested a stone axe on his shoulder, and electricity crackled around his free hand. "Throw down your weapons, and we might let you live!"
"Mercy? They're offering us mercy?" whispered one of Damian's troopers.
"Open the gate, too," the leader ordered. "We can't take back the city, but we're NOT living here under your heels anymore."
"And abandon my duty?" spat Damian. "Never! If you're so confident, slave, then face me alone. I'll bring you back in line."
Ray's eyes widened. "What are you doing? You'll get yourself killed!"
"Your friend's the most sensible Usurper I've seen all day," said the leader. "Listen to him."
The other troopers seemed to share Ray's concern, but Damian wasn't having it. "We're sworn to the Usurpation Army, and I REFUSE to take orders from a lowly Inlander! Genesis Core or not, you'll never-"
There was a blast of heat and light, and another thunderclap. When Ray's vision returned, Sir Damian lay in a crumpled heap against the sandstone wall, a scorched hole still smoking in his havenite chestplate. The troopers of his squad gasped and backed away, their arms almost trembling too hard to even hold their swords.
"I've had enough of you," the leader said, his hand still outstretched after throwing the thunderbolt. "I could kill the other six of you, and it wouldn't even begin to make up for the losses we've suffered."
Ray put a hand up and stepped in front of Damian's cowering soldiers. He was every bit as terrified as them, but something spurred him on regardless. "Enough! We won't get in your way… just leave them alone. I'll… I'll open the gate for you."
With the eyes of the entire mob on him, and the distant sounds of combat from other rioting areas still ringing in his ears with the thunderclap, he shuffled over to the gate's controls beside it. Ray pulled the lever, and there was a shunt as a gap in the bricks slid open. Defense Squad 12 scattered out of the way, leaving a path for the Inlanders to leave.
But they didn't. A strange look had come over the faces of the slaves, and they were staring out the gate into the badlands beyond. When Ray turned to follow their gazes, his eyes landed on a person standing just outside the gate, almost a full block taller than the average person. At first Ray thought the lingering daze from the lightning had made it hard to see more than a dark blur of the stranger, but when they took a step past the gate and the wall, he realized there was no trick of the light at all: the person was wearing armor as black as night, lined with dark purple touches and not at all appearing to hinder its wearer despite the weight and heat. It wasn't Netherite- it looked too different to the armor worn by the countess to be- but it was clearly a step above the usual iron or havenite suits Ray had seen. The stranger wore a custom helmet that obscured their entire head, designed with the visage of a monstrous, screaming face around a purple visor. They slowly cast their gaze about the crowd of perplexed Inlanders before settling on Ray.
"…are you… a Usurper?" The voice, distinctly male, was almost too deep to understand. When Ray gave a very short, speechless nod, the armored stranger looked back at the crowd of Inlanders. "You are their enemy."
"Who are you?" asked the mob's leader, his hand sparking again. "Are you here to help us? Or are you one of them?"
From behind the person's visor, something began to emit a glow of bright violet. "No."
A few minutes later, Ray stumbled among the aftermath of the battle. Reinforcements had finally arrived from deeper in Incursia, but there was no need by then: the stranger had left the rioters' miserable corpses scattered about the streets, having wiped them out to a man with naught but his bare hands. When he was approached by Marshal Crux and a few wary soldiers, he presented them with the Lightning Core he'd recovered from the dead leader.
But Ray didn't pay any attention to that. In a daze, his eyes traced across the scores of dead Inlanders, only stopping when they reached a distinctly familiar body. It was the boy who'd bumped into him the day prior, who'd seemed so terrified of retribution. A broken stone sword lay beside him.
Ray lifted his mask, doubled over, and vomited onto the terracotta street.