Chapter 27
Finish Them
The chittering, rustling and creaking of a forest at night faded into a distant noise.
Body covered with constellations of bruises and lacerations.
Got this sweet, sweet chi though.
His mangled hand screamed at him from his lap.
Oy vey
Push.
The chi flowed down his left arm, tingling, headlights down a twisted highway he couldn't comprehend.
It coursed around and through the damaged joint, a turbulent river, penetrating into damaged tendons.
Pull
Back up past the elbow, closing split skin, down into the ribs.
Stone face twisted, eyelids tightening.
A kaleidoscope of nerves burning fire, bruising shrunk as the trapped blood was processed.
Push
Down, into the inflamed right hand, churning, flowing into the cracked bone with force.
Hot shards of agony shifted, edema easing.
He vigorously scratched the back of his hand.
Pull
His body’s natural healing worked overtime.
Finally.
Ever so slowly, tissues repaired, bones shivered, and started to fuse.
Ever so closer back to normal.
USADA would definitely ban this.
Birds welcomed with the brightening sky.
He took a deep breath, feeling mostly alive again, opening and closing his right hand.
All that raw chi spent.
Shit still hurts.
But I'm functional.
I'll heal the rest of the way eventually.
A tiny mote of power was plucked from his ball, sent down along his pathways, testing, probing.
Smoother. Faster.
Huh.
Apparently all that forced chi flow scoured the channels or something.
That's good I guess.
The monumental climb back to his feet earned a loud groan.
“Stretch and flex time! Heh.”
He moved his body through a wincing range of motion.
The tall goblin giving the kill order sat squarely in his mind.
His head snapped up, eyes smoldering.
Time for rest is over.
“I’m coming for you fucker.”
It was midday when he reached the edge of the forest on the northern side of the camp.
He took a roundabout route, attempting to avoid any more potential ambushes.
Creeping from behind a bush.
Teeth stained from a mouthful of dry purple berries.
Gob Cleaver sat there, calm and relaxed, eyes closed.
Smug bastard.
He took in the scared tired group of eleven smaller goblins.
Wait a minute.
Wasn't there thirteen?
He queried his questionable memory.
Racking his brain.
Eh, who cares.
Looking back to the ones that were there, it was a sad state of affairs.
Shoulders slumped, weapons held loose or set aside.
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Heads whipping back and forth like they are watching a tennis match.
Upon closer inspection, even the tall leader's eyes would shift side to side.
This is good. Paranoia is very good.
He settled in, well used to long hours.
Tart fruit cutting through his dry mouth.
The Sun dipped low, bleeding scarlet and orange across the horizon.
He fidgeted.
So bored.
As the night chill started to crept in, two sentries finally succumbed.
They were positioned close to each other, for comfort.
More like convenience.
The time had finally arrived.
This is it.
Time to finish these fuckers off.
I'm going to slip in, and drain all of my ball if I need to… Hmm.
He slipped down to the barricade, moving slowly through the shadows.
No sound marked his passage.
Guess you learn fast when you are about to die.
Two sharp movements.
Two threats silently erased.
Chi swiftly pulled, flowing through his body.
Ken scratched at the back of his hand.
More healing.
Eleven greenskins, sleepy, scared, and dispersed keeping watch.
His eyes shifted to the fire.
Their leader sat cross legged, eyes closed, head tilted down.
Head of the snake and all that shit.
Crouched in the shadows, he centered himself.
Pull
The flow of Momentum slowly built, coursing through his pathways.
Infusing every part of his being.
Around and around, building speed, building power.
Ken vibrated.
He moved.
Holy shit I'm fast.
Closing with eye watering speed, the goblins’ head was still down.
It should have been too slow.
Its skull should have gotten caved in.
At the ten foot mark, pools of black snapped open on its face…
A palpable wave of raw, dark power surged off its body.
No sound, no gesture, just the silent manifestation of its will.
The wave swept over him, slowing him down.
Ken remained in motion.
Black orbs widened, as they ducked a left haymaker.
Thought that would stop me, huh?
He planted his left leg spinning out a quick right shin kick.
Gob Cleaver checked it smoothly.
Oh. Fuck.
The Pugilist was undeniably faster, stronger dodging every slice by a hair.
With any strike landed, he slammed into a constitution field by something alien, and dark.
The goblin was demonstrably more skilled, its cleaver held with cold practiced precision.
It was a blur of vicious, close quarters motion.
The soft grunt of a landed punch.
The sharp hiss from parted skin.
Air, displaced by breath and limb.
Gob Cleaver moved with a cunning and grace unanticipated.
Every motion of the heavy cleaver was preceded by a ripple of shadow and darkness, as subtle manipulation, masking the true trajectory of his weapon.
Ken’s speed kept him alive.
The skill of his opponent, and fear of his cloying energy, forced him to constantly adjust.
He sacrificed offense, overreacting, focusing on drastic evasive maneuvers.
Suddenly the power manifested fully.
With a quick, rotational swing of the cleaver, he didn't just strike, he released a rippling blade of shadow.
Ken, already committed, barely managed to contort to the side, the projection grazing his right shoulder.
A cold wave of searing numbness swept down his arm, fingers locking into a useless claw.
It didn't just hurt, it stole his momentum, leaving him feeling sickly and cold.
Push
He stepped left, overhand swipe whipping by.
Pull
Quick backstep, pulling in his stomach, avoiding back swing.
Push
Feint kick, leap backwards to create space.
FUCKING MOVE.
After a year long minute, his chi creeped forward, pushing out the cold malaise.
If that hits me directly, I'm dead.
He shook his right hand loose.
Black shining orbs widened again.
The combat became a deadly dance.
Shadows confused, clever flicked, weaving those terrifying shadow extensions.
Ken used his superior strength and speed to land sporadic, powerful blows.
Each strike shuddered through the goblins' smaller frame.
Shadowy aura receding, inch by inch.
Finally, the goblin faltered.
A momentary lag between a shadow blade's discharge, and the smothering darkness's recovery.
The Pugilists right shin axed down on Gob Cleavers’ left knee, unprotected by its power.
SNAP
He started to fall, squealing in pain.
Left elbow to the bridge of the nose snapped its head back.
Right hand grabs the back of its knobby head.
Face met left knee, head snapping back up.
Throat open for a straight left, crushing it.
Gob Cleaver did a trust fall.
Ground caught him.
Ken stood over the motionless leader, breath coming in sharp controlled bursts.
The air was silent with tension.
He spun taking in the camp.
Eleven pairs of terrified eyes stared at him.
Too scared to attack, too scared to run.
Ken flared his Momentum.
It flowed unimpeded and powerful.
The fight pushed him beyond his limits, unlocking a new connection.
What followed wasn't a slow dismantling.
It was a violent cleansing.
In seconds, the camp was silent.
Mission Accomplished.
