Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God (12 page)

I know almost nothing about aircraft, but this one looks like the type of plane that you would see in an old war movie. It has the resemblance to a pregnant whale the the military transport planes all seem to have. The cargo bay is large enough to fit three of our van with room to spare. Following the directions of the man in cargo bay, Urehara-sensei manually drives the van up the loading ramp.

We get out of the van, while the airplane's crew strap and chain it to the deck. The man who directed Urehara-sensei up the ramp looks at me for a few moments, before shaking his head and continuing his work.

Another man exits a door in the upper part of the front bulkhead of the cargo bay and climbs down the short ladder next to it. He is dressed in a flight suit, with a light vinyl jacket. Approaching Urehara-sensei, the man offers his hand.

“Mr Fujiwara, I'm Capt. Roberts. I apologize for the late take off time. Your change to the charter request caught us off-guard yesterday, and it takes us a while to prep the plane. As soon as your van and its cargo are secured, we'll be leaving, and get into the takeoff queue.”

“That is nothing to be concerned about, Capt. Roberts. Our circumstances suddenly changed, so we are thankful that you could accommodate us.”

Capt. Roberts points to eight fold-down seats on each wall of the cargo bay near the front bulkhead. “All of our normal seats are for the crew. This plane isn't designed for passengers. So, you'll have to use those jump seats. Make sure you strap in securely, so you don't get hurt during takeoff.”

After Capt. Roberts returns to the cockpit, Urehara-sensei stands near the flight crew. While Urehara-sensei watches the flight crew work, I pull down a jump seat and sit down. Pulling my legs up into the lotus position, I return to my training, though I only barely enter a trance state.

After securing our shipping crates, the crew member who guided us onto the plane picks up a microphone on the bulkhead.

“Cockpit, we have the cargo secure. Good to go at anytime.”

“Roger, cargo bay. Make sure everyone is seated, we're stating the engines now.”

The two members sit down and loosely secure their restraining belts. Both take out tablets and being fiddling with them, but they keep sneaking peaks at me, probably, thinking that I cannot see them.

After being sure our van and cargo are secured in a manner satisfactory to himself, Urehara-sensei sits is in a jump seat near my own. He observes the flight crew for a moment, before leaning back against the bulkhead and closing his eyes.

The planes engines start, and a few minutes later, we being jerkily taxing. It still takes more than an hour for us to get airborne, but it is no surprise. LAX is supposed to always be running behind schedule.

I settle into a deeper trance, only keeping enough awareness to be able to react to anyone coming too close. The plane's crew members come to talk to Urehara-sensei a few times, but I never sense any hostility, so remain in my trance.

By the time we land in North Dakota, the sun is already down. The airport is small, barely large enough for our transport plane to land, and the runways and taxiways have minimal lighting. After the plane stops near a gate in the chain link fence surrounding the airport, the flight crew lowers the ramp and begins to unsecure our van.

While Urehara-sensei talks with Capt. Roberts, I load our crates back into the van. The crew members working on the van stare with their mouths agape as I easily lift the heaviest crate, that required both of them to unload and secure. They are both more heavily built than I am, though one is a couple inches shorter, and obviously thought themselves much stronger. When I turn my gaze on them, they look away, with complicated expressions that I cannot decipher.

After Urehara-sensei finishes with Capt. Roberts, we both enter the van and he drives it off the plane.

“We should eat now. It will kill some time, and I prefer to make night raids near the middle of the night. Diurnal races are much less aware and slower to respond at the deepest parts of their natural sleep cycle.”

Urehara-sensei stares at me, a bit of surprise is evident in  his expression. “Your youth keeps causing me to overlook your decade of life and death battles. In reality, you have far more experience than I do in this type of endeavor. Since this is our last night on Earth, we should find a good steak restaurant and enjoy our meal.”

After stopping once more to recharge the crystal lattice battery packs, we have finally reached our destination, a gully in the middle of nowhere. Around three hundred yards away is a more or less rust-free chain link fence. The van had been under manual control for the last half-hour of the trip, but it was an indication of how skilled Urehara-sensei is at driving.

Moving into the back of the van, I open up the crates and change into my new equipment. The suede gambeson has extra layers at the shoulders, where the weight of the chainmail hauberk will ride the heaviest and at the knees as well. The hauberk is around seventy pounds, nearly four times what it would be were it made of pure steel. The greaves, cuisses, and poleyns are forged from ¼ ” thick metal and add another fifty pounds or so. A harness with sheathes for multiple knives buckles over my chest, and I attach the sheathes for my paired longswords to rings at my hips. My cloak is thick, black oiled leather, and my backpack is made from the same. There are enough freeze-dried meals for a week stuffed in the backpack along with an assortment of small tools, and a bedroll is strapped to the bottom.

After getting out of the van, I shrug and twist to settle the armor and let the other gear hang more comfortably. The dimensional bags, that I used as Talon, are so much more efficient than bulky normal packs. At the first opportunity, we will have to acquire some for ourselves.

“Are you ready, Sensei?”

Urehara-sensei is dressed in his samurai style armor. If not for the backpack and other gear, he would look the part of an ancient samurai. Though, the gleam in his eyes is more like a teenager about to embark on an adventure. He may be looking forward to entering the Labyrinth of Yggr more than I am.

“Let us move out.”

I lead the way at a steady jog. We are in the middle of what used to the Little Missouri National Grassland, but at some point in the past twenty years, this nameless weapons testing range was built, and the land reclassified as restricted. Even Urehara-sensei's resources were unable to pin down the exact date when the change occurred, so this has be part of some ultra-high security government project.

Without having any snowfall yet this year, the plains are shades of brown and grey, brown grass, brown dirt, dirty greyish stone showing through in places. The cloudless sky is a midnight vault, with countless sparkling pricks of white.  There is no nearby light pollution to dull its splendor.

We observe the fence from close up. Even though there are signs every fifty or so feet, saying “Restricted No Trespassing,” there are no signs of any sensors or cameras. Drawing one of my swords, I fill it with ki and slash open the fence. Before we can go through, I hear an odd sound over the soughing of the wind.

Pt-tat. Pt-tat. Pt-tat.
The rhythmic drumming noises seem to be coming closer. It sounds like it is coming from several sources, but they are concealed by the rolling landscape.

I pull my second blade and glance at Urehara-sensei. He nods silently and draws his katana, moving to stand at my back, so we have eyes in all directions.

After a few moments, three figures become visible inside the fence, rising out of a slight depression in the ground. Four more appear, two to either side, running along the outside the fence. Made of black metal, with glowing read eyes, they have the form of wolves and look to be about three feet at the shoulder. Their oversize jaws have teeth that would make a bear trap green with envy.

“Three in front. Two to either side.”

“None behind us. I see the four on the sides. I have never seen drones built like that before. I did not the US government was working on something like that.” Urehara-sensei sounds more than a little surprised.

“Those aren't drones. They're constructs, magical artifacts, golems of a sort. They're called iron wolves. I've faced them in the Battleground of the Damned.”

“How strong are they?”

“I don't know. Their strength can vary quite a bit, but considering their speed, they should be fairly strong. It'll be a tough fight. The only certain way to stop them is to destroy the mana crystal, which is most most likely in the middle of the chest.”

The constructs stop at a distance of about twenty yards, but they can cross that short a distance in only a couple of seconds. For a short dash, I am faster. I can cover that much ground in just over a second.

“Sensei, we need to cut down the odds as quickly as possible. I'm going to go for the group on my left. Follow me as fast as you can move, and do a passing strike so that the other iron wolves can't attack your back.”

“Okay.”

“NOW!”

I focus my ki into my legs and push off with my right foot as hard as I can. My body launches forward like a bolt from a crossbow, and with two steps I have covered half the distance. The iron wolves and Urehara-sensei start moving at the same time, as I pass the halfway mark. One wolf targets me, and the other targets Urehara-sensei.

One second.

Iron wolves are not sentient; they are only constructs. Following its limited programming, the iron wolf attacking me opens its jaws wide, in preparation to bite me. Both of my swords slip between the jaws. The iron wolf has no throat, but the points of swords pierce the thinner metal in the back of the mouth, as easily as a steel punch goes through aluminum foil. As the cruciform hilts of my swords slam into the hinges of the jaws, my left foot slams into the iron wolf's leg, shattering the knee joint. The wolf begins to fall, and I wrench my blades apart, as I spin. The wolf's head and neck explode into mangled wreckage, and my right kick accelerates its forward velocity.

Even though I told Urehara-sensei the only certain way to stop the wolves is to destroy the magic crystals, this way is just as effective, but it take overwhelming brute force.

Two seconds.

Urehara-sensei drops to one knee, sliding along the ground at a slight angle away from the charging iron wolf. As the wolf skitters, changing its direction of travel, Urehara-sensei's katana shears through both of its front legs a the knee. The wolf pitches downward, tumbling across the ground.

“Mark.”

Three seconds.

The two iron wolves from my right are within ten yards, one targeting each of us. The tumbling wreckage of the first wolf I engaged, causes my wolf to veer to the side. I push off the ground, charging back toward the new wolf. My swords force its mouth away, with a cross block on its neck, and my right kick dents its chest, knocking it to the ground.

“What?”

Four seconds.

I close with the tumbling wolf, and drive my right sword through its chest, with an overhand thrust. The iron wolf shudders and does not move anymore. Turning, I see Urehara-sensei remove the legs from a wolf already missing its head.

Five seconds.

“I have chosen my name.”

The three iron wolves inside the chain link burst through it. Two charging towards me, and the third toward Urehara-sensei.

Six seconds.

Turning the head of the left wolf with a cross block, I use its mass to push myself into the second wolf. I drive a flying knee into second wolfs head. The wolf tries to bite my knee, but its teeth screech off of my poleyn. The force of my second knee strike knocks the wolf tumbling to the ground.

The sound of Urehara-sensei's katana sheering through metal reaches my ears.

“What is it?”

Seven seconds.

Spinning toward the wolf whose head I deflected, I focus my ki into my blades. My swords lash out in a double strike, with one blade half a beat behind the other. Blue sparks fountain out the impact, and I rapidly follow up with more strikes, in a figure eight pattern. Three four, five six, seven eight, and the wolf collapses to the ground.

Eight seconds.

“Jinmu.”

Turning to the last wolf, I see its inanimate husk pinned to the ground by Urehara-sensei's flame covered katana. He has developed a strong affinity for using to manipulate fire, in the past month.

This fight was far too easy. The iron wolves were much weaker than I expected, despite their speed. Were they inferior products or do they not function as effectively on Earth?

“That's one hell of an ambitious name. Do you plan to create an empire?”

“My little girl will need a safe place to live. It is my responsibility as her father to create one. I should have twenty to thirty good years left, that might be enough time.”

I turn away, so Urehara-sensei does not see the hate in my eyes. With Urehara-sensei in Taereun, I probably will not kill Mei, as long she is not stupid enough to provoke me. Her friends are another story. I am going to crucify every single one of them.

Slicing open the chest of each iron wolf, I rip out the blood red magic crystals, that were powering the automatons. The exposed chest cavities are covered with extremely intricate spell sigils, but I do not know how to read them.

There are two types of magical spell constructs that I know of. The first are magic formations, which are a tool for maintaining a long term spell effect. Formations require constant monitoring and the input of mana from a caster, but also allow a caster to cast spell that are beyond his or her ability to cast.

The second are sigils, which are used to create more or less permanent spells. I do not know the mechanics of how they gather mana, but they do not require monitoring or mana input from a caster. In theory, the effects of a sigil can be maintained for hundreds or thousands of years.

“Let's get moving.”

I walk through the huge hole in the chain link. Urehara-sensei stands up from inspecting one of the iron wolves and follows me.

“That construct is very interesting. I never encountered anything like it, when I played the game.”

I glance over my shoulder at the metal wreckage. “They're pretty rare, but there are a few places in the Battleground of the Damned you can learn make them. Just to reach the Gate to Haven, this probably won't be a short journey. If you want we can spend some time at a place where you can study construct crafting.”

Urehara-sensei seems to think for a few moments. “Maybe. We can make the decision if the opportunity presents itself.”

RRRoooooaaaaaaarrrrrr!
A dark object riding on streaks of blue fire streaks over our heads and turns to hover on four jets of flame. Its long cylindrical body has two long wings, two stubby wings  and a triangular tail rising from the back. Under its nose are two six-barreled guns with rectangular ammunition feed tubes connected their sides.

“What the fuck?”

“That's a Predator Mk. 15, Mark. Those are 12.5mm chain-guns; it is outfitted for antipersonnel work.”

“Fucking punk, stay right where you are. Move and your dead.” The amplified voice is one I never expected to hear again.

“Fuck you, Clarence.” My shout should be audible over the drones engines.

“You little bitch! I'm going to keep you in a black detention center for a month! By the time I'm done with you, you'll never have a problem taking a shit again!”

“He really does hate being called, Clarence.”

Urehara-sensei chuckles, even if it does sound a bit grim. “You really do not know the meaning of fear or caution, do you?”

“I want him pissed, so he won't think straight. I want Wendell pissed even more, but I don't how to break though the liquid nitrogen that passes for blood in him.”

Six or seven minutes later, three all-terrain vehicles, with methane engines, pull up outside the broken fence. The two Jones dickheads get out, with eight others agents. The Jones' are still wearing their expensive suits. While Wendell is not obviously armed, Clarence is carrying some kind of boxy gun, with a bore the size of an old currency quarter and a huge drum on it. The other eight agents are wearing modern body armor and carrying assault rifles. The Jones' vehicle has a silhouette of a man hunched over a console, probably the drone operator.

The FBI agents spread out in a semicircle, facing us. Clarence and Wendell are to my right, at one end of the semicircle.

“The police aren't allowed to use firearms any longer. How the fuck do they have guns?”

Urehara-sensei laughs, but there is no amusement in the sound. “Governments make laws to suppress their populations, not to limit themselves. The FBI has special dispensations allowing them to use otherwise restricted weapons. It is pretty much the same in all first world countries.”

“That is very accurate, Ryouske. Thank you so much. Trespassing on restricted Federal land, and destruction or Federal military assets, there is no possible way for you to elude prosecution this time. Now that you are a criminal, I can dispense with politely addressing a piece of foreign trash like yourself. Control over Delphi will finally be where it should be, in the hands of the FBI.” Wendell's smile does not match the naked malice in his eyes.

“You are a fool. I have already completely divested myself of all connections to the Urehara Conglomerate. If you try to take Delphi under this flimsy pretext, my family will destroy it.”

Wendell laughs. “Actually, you are the fool. As soon as you stepped down, Nobuhiko and the board entered negotiations with the DOJ for the sale of Delphi. Their asking price was astronomical, but with your actions, we should have no trouble getting it for virtually nothing.”