Ashen Crucible

Chapter 21: The Natives

Chapter 21: The Natives (Part 1)

As Su predicted, Robertson didn't immediately pursue. Having lost the initiative and nursing hidden injuries, any experienced hunter would know when to retreat. But Su estimated the man would fully recover within an hour. In jungle pursuits, days-long chases were common - an hour's lead meant little.

The brief but fierce knife fight taught Su his opponent was a veteran hunter with vastly superior close-combat skills and jungle survival experience matching his own. Perhaps Su's only advantage lay in patience - though every skilled hunter possessed that virtue. This would be a drawn-out game.

Su suddenly noticed the light ahead brightening, indicating thinning foliage. Half a minute later, he burst from the forest into a vast plain stretching hundreds of square kilometers, patched with rectangular fields like a giant quilt. At the horizon rose sheer cliffs ascending to snow-capped peaks. The landscape transitioned strangely from gentle slopes to kilometer-high vertical faces.

Across this plain and up the slopes sprawled an immense city. Even at this distance, Su's enhanced vision discerned clusters of domed single-story dwellings interspersed with 15-story "skyscrapers", all curved structures connected by ruler-straight wide avenues. This was no village - a true city housing over 100,000 natives.

Kill 100,000 natives? Su glanced at his combat knife. This dark dragon cavalry blade, though forged from advanced alloys, would dull after penetrating mere hundreds of bodies. Recent skirmishes proved even small groups inflicted injuries. Their neurotoxic darts and spears could still slow him fatally mid-battle.

An impossible mission. Su turned back, only to freeze - dozens of natives emerged from the tree line led by a warrior blowing a wooden whistle. In seconds, answering whistles echoed as more squads converged. Hundreds poured from the distant city, some mounted on wolf-like beasts outpacing others.

Su feinted forward then retreated as poisoned projectiles thudded where he'd stood. Capitalizing on their reaction delay, he exploded forward - a blur bisecting two natives' throats before vanishing into foliage.

But the jungle itself betrayed him. Carnivorous shrubs, indistinguishable from normal plants, served as sentries. Though Su moved silently, the vegetation relayed his position. Hunting parties converged with military precision.

As whistles coordinated encirclement, Su consumed nutrient paste and water. His metabolism could sustain two hours of combat. The real battle was just beginning.

Elsewhere, Robertson crouched on a branch overlooking the alien metropolis. Before he could ponder further, thunderous footsteps announced Captain Cotts' arrival.

"Impressive, isn't it?" The hulking black officer spat. "First saw Alamagan fifteen years back. Was just a lieutenant then."

Robertson sneered internally. Fifteen years to reach captain? Pathetic. He began descending when Cotts growled: "Mongrel! Stay higher than me again, I'll blow your ass apart!"

The mercenary froze mid-retreat. Cotts produced two antique shotguns - suicidal in toxin-filled woods. Before Robertson could react, four deafening blasts shredded his legs with hundreds of lead pellets. He collapsed screaming.

"These..." Cotts reloaded with armor-piercing rounds, "...are for the Fabregas family." Four precise shots destroyed Robertson's joints. "Tell your employers - break my rules, I'll hunt them like rabid dogs."

A final blast obliterated Robertson's groin. "This? Just personal." The captain spat on twitching remains. "Now crawl home, cur."

Chapter 21: The Natives (Part 2)

Su knelt heavily, left hand braced against the blood-soaked earth, right hand clutching a native spear. His composite dagger had been lost long ago in the endless skirmishes. Each labored breath seared his lungs like liquid fire. Half his neural commands went unanswered now. His stomach churned empty - nutrients and water long since converted to battlefield fuel. The world swam before his eyes, tree trunks and darting native silhouettes blurring into abstract patterns.

A spearpoint materialized behind him, stabbing for his kidney. Inches from penetration, the targeted muscles rippled like armored plates. The obsidian tip skittered across toughened flesh, opening a superficial gash before Su whirled with viper-strike speed. His stolen spear licked out, punching through the attacker's throat with surgical precision. The native collapsed gurgling as Su resumed his crouch, a wounded panther conserving energy.

Twenty meters away, two ornate palanquins held regal figures - male and female natives distinguished by their humanoid beauty and proportionally larger craniums. The male spoke in accented but clear English: "Cease this s*******r. Surrender now, and we grant warrior's rites."

Su's cracked lips twisted in a bloody smirk. Three feathered champions advanced, spears probing. Su's weapon became living lightning - a flick, a twist, three corpses added to the hundred-strong death circle around him. His nude body gleamed marble-white beneath crimson latticework, not an inch unmarked.

For thirty minutes he'd held this killing ground. Neurotoxins accumulated despite growing immunity. Blood loss turned movements leaden. Each new wound came easier than the last. A thousand warriors encircled him now. Even his superhuman endurance neared collapse.

The male chieftain rose, hefting a barbed bone lance. Su tensed - ten meters away the ruler halted, barking orders. A wave of warriors crashed over Su.

Then hell ignited.

Su erupted from the human wave steaming, blood vaporizing from his superheated skin. The chieftain's mocking laughter died as this crimson demon closed the distance. Bone lance met Su's bare hand in spray of gore - a brutal tug-of-war ending with the ruler abandoning weapon to flee through shrubbery.

Madness took Su. He plowed through spear walls, leaving human kebabs in his wake. Before the ornate palanquin, he launched the bone lance skyward. The missile pierced the ascending throne midair, detonating it in a rain of splinters. Silence fell.

Darkness claimed him then, body collapsing like cut strings.

The female ruler - Savoy - screamed vengeance. Spears poised for coup de grâce when shotgun thunder rolled. Captain Cotts emerged like wrath incarnate, smoking barrels sweeping the crowd. "Encore's over, bugs."

"You s*******r us yearly!" Savoy shrilled in English.

Cotts holstered guns, hefting Su's limp form. "Call it population control, princess. Tell sprinting-boy brother I approve his survival instincts." His boots crushed carnivorous shrubs into retreating submission.

At mountain's foot waited the rusted cargo plane. Grizzled pilot "Flying Bear" wordlessly injected Su with glowing serum from a lead-lined case.

"Generous today," Cotts remarked.

"Kid's earned it," the pilot grunted. "What about the surveillance rats?" He gestured toward distant cliffs.

Cotts fingered his insignia. "Let them report. Any bullet touching this uniform brings entire Dragon Cavalry down their heads."

Flying Bear's laughter boomed. "Old warhorse! They'd sacrifice ten captains before moving!"

"Then pray I'm not aboard when you crash," Cotts retorted as engines coughed to life. The relic aircraft shuddered skyward, leaving bloodsoaked legends whispering through alien trees.