Ashen Crucible

Chapter 12: Patience

Chapter 12: Patience (Part 1)

The City of the Setting Sun held special significance for both the Fabregas family and the Dark Dragon Knights.

For House Fabregas, the loss wasn't merely a fourth-in-line heir or a promising young scion - it was a blow to their dignity and ancient honor. Every Dark Dragon Knight represented a pivotal figure, whether currently prominent or destined for future greatness. For an ancient, sprawling clan like Fabregas, the death of a young Knight had become the family's most urgent matter. Beyond immediate consequences, failure to apprehend the killer within reasonable time could lead allies - even rivals and enemies - to question the family's strength, triggering unpredictable chain reactions.

For the Dark Dragon Knights, the matter proved simpler, unburdened by politics but still touching their honor. Two newly initiated Knights had met misfortune during a trial mission, complicated by outsider involvement. Though insignificant organizations like Roxellan warranted no consideration from the Knights, protocol demanded maintaining dignity. Thus, the Knights launched their investigation - though their true interest lay with the mysterious intruder.

When night fell, the City of the Setting Sun transformed into a gargantuan beast, coldly observing all creatures daring to move within its boundaries, particularly those of arrogant disposition.

Thirteen off-road vehicles formed a phalanx, roof-mounted light arrays supplementing headlights to illuminate the ruins. Before this mechanical formation stood six men in black uniforms adorned with dark gold trim. At center stood a ramrod-straight middle-aged officer, his salt-and-pepper hair meticulously groomed, bushy mustache complementing hawklike eyes - the very image of military precision. His cuffs bore crossed shortsword insignia.

Lieutenant Luther Fabregas concealed his disinterest in avenging Lecorne behind appreciation for the ruined city's grandeur. As distant relatives within the sprawling clan, their blood ties had thinned across generations. Though both Dark Dragon Knights, the thirty-year age gap between them told its own story: Lecorne's potential had far outstripped Luther's long before the younger man's demise.

Within the Knights' loose hierarchy where rank reflected strength rather than absolute authority, a fifty-year-old lieutenant like Luther commanded less respect than a twenty-four-year-old corporal like Lecorne had. The latter's death secretly pleased Luther, though he'd never show it - family prestige might suffer, but his own branch stood to gain.

After meticulous study of Lecorne's death and exhaustive debriefing of surviving retainers (excluding Oberon's entourage), Luther had developed reluctant admiration for the killer called "Su." That surgical headshot - perfectly timed, ruthlessly executed - displayed artistic ambush placement. Though like most combat/arcana adepts he considered firearms specialists fragile prey, this shot warranted exception.

Each Knight held detailed city maps marking key combat zones, color-coded arrows dictating search routes. Without ceremony, Luther raised his black-gloved hand, two fingers extended forward. Five Knights dispersed with their retinues.

Behind the vehicle formation waited numerous retainers.

Luther's meticulous nature manifested in three full days combing the ruins. At dusk on the third day, six Knights converged atop a derelict skyscraper where Su had once waited three days for wounds to heal - where he'd spent 10 evolution points acquiring infrared vision. Here, at this same hour, Su had departed the city.

Without orders, a pallid Knight stepped forward - Justin, thirtyish with blood-red lips, his emaciated 180cm frame barely 50kg. He settled precisely where Su had sat, mirroring posture and gaze direction. Closing eyes, he shuddered violently ten minutes later, moaning like c****x.

Luther's team showed no reaction. Justin's presence defined this operation - his sole high-tier ability being sixth-tier Mysticism: Arcane Perception.

Convulsing as if electrocuted, Justin tumbled over the edge... only to float upward moments later, eyes unfocused, hands caressing empty air. "Such a beautiful creature..." he croaked, tearing open his collar to reveal crimson lining.

Suddenly rigid, Justin's pupils contracted to pinpoints. "I've got you, little one!" he hissed venomously.

Luther consulted tactical maps showing Su's Roxellan equipment raid. The lieutenant frowned for the tenth time at Su's choice of antique Barrett over advanced RF300A - all selected gear lacked electronics. While RF300A's semi-smart systems gave advantage, their EM signatures became trackable within 5km without countermeasures - luxuries beyond wasteland hunters.

"Probability?" Luther demanded.

"Eighty percent," Justin purred, stropping lips.

Luther dispatched one Knight to investigate Roxellan while mobilizing the rest toward Justin's indicated direction.

Unbeknownst to the hunters, hundreds of kilometers away, Su paused mid-stride. That familiar reptilian chill crawled his spine again - weaker than the wolf-pack premonition, yet infinitely more dangerous.

He knew disaster approached, likely via Roxellan's trail. Though aware the Knights would investigate, Su had spared key figures - the suicidal Lynne shielded by Reegar, old Fassel whose face resurrected memories of Hans, long-ago benefactor bearing Roxellan's crest.

Ahead lay uncharted territory on Su's map, but he trusted the Knights possessed better intelligence. His sole advantage remained 2-3 days' headstart... until that psychic probe.

Altering course, Su raced along crumbling highways toward potential settlements. He needed information - human sources replacing electronic intel.

Chapter 12: Patience (Part 2)

The winding highway snaked through ruins, its peeling-paint mailboxes and weed-choked gardens silently testifying to long-lost tranquility. Su methodically surveyed every derelict town - each potential battlefield in the limited time before pursuit arrived.

At dusk, he found Saratoga - a settlement of 1,000 souls built within crumbling suburbs. Though his bandaged appearance drew wary glances, the Barrett rifle slung across his back inspired more fear than greed. Within an hour, Su mapped the settlement's hierarchy: chieftain, twenty-strong militia, bars, shops, and an unusually equipped clinic with four nurse-slaves.

The clinic's "nursing staff" - young women bought, trained, and used at the doctor's whim - epitomized Saratoga's brutal norms. s*****y here enjoyed militia-enforced legitimacy, escapees hunted across allied settlements. Runaways faced dismemberment (men) or gang r**e (women), deterrents more effective than the mutated predators prowling beyond 100km borders.

As ever, the bar served as information hub. Laser lights strobed through sweat-and-whiskey haze, illuminating a stage where underdressed girls gyrated. Su's arrival drew calculating stares, the Barrett's silhouette cooling most ambitions.

"Sir... buy a drink?" A waifish fourteen-year-old approached, clutching half-empty whiskey and smudged tumbler. Her flat chest and bitten lips resurrected memories of another girl from Su's past - now grown, perhaps beautiful under different stars.

Without haggling, Su paid 50 coins for the bottle. The girl gaped before fleeing, forgetting thanks. Observant eyes noted this transaction, including portly middle-aged Quine who slid 25 coins across the table.

"You'll regret that charity," Quine warned as the girl returned transformed - face scrubbed, hair damp-combed into womanly guise. "Buy me?" she pleaded, grinding Su's hand between preternaturally agile thighs.

When Su cited empty pockets, Quine intervened: "Enough! He's not falling for your honey trap." The girl fled tearfully as Quine explained her routine - baiting travelers who later got dismembered when reclaiming "property."

Su ignited alcohol on his bandaged hand, blue flames dancing across unscathed skin. The display shifted bar dynamics - greedy stares morphing into wary avoidance.

"Thought you were psionic," Quine muttered, eyeing flame-resistant flesh. "Turns out you're arcane breed."

Their conversation flowed with stage performances - Quine rattling off settlement stats from memory while Su absorbed tactical data. Seven nearby enclaves, their populations, armaments, leadership quirks - all catalogued with photographic recall.

At night's end, Quine offered parting advice: "Need supplies, intel, or underage girls - I'm your man." His laughter boomed. "That Barrett sealed the deal - real men choose raw power over smart rifles."

Su vanished into darkness, mapping seven settlements over two days before disappearing completely.

Dawn revealed Luther's convoy encircling Saratoga. The grizzled lieutenant studied tactical maps while Justin sniffed air like bloodhound. "He's here... somewhere," the mysthic hissed, tongue flicking crimson lips. Eleven vehicles idled, Dark Dragon Knights ignoring gathering crowds - their prey worth more patience than entire settlements.