Chapter 22

“You are Apex of the 1st-Class Paragons. You are the inheritor of the will of the founder.”

Same message. Over and over and over and over again. It played on a loop in their head.

Apex’s helmet readout dinged, and reminded them of the mission parameters: There was a Class-0 Device in this vicinity, standard procedure was to retrieve it and then eliminate any witnesses. It was funny in a way, the bleeding hearts in the Consortium always talked about the loss of life in the constant state of war. Not out of the antiquated concept of altruism, but rather because a dead human was one less worker for the corporations, one less builder, one less producer of resources, one less constituent, and one less meat shield. That was bad for business.

However, in situations like these… the complex algorithms that dictate policy decided that the loss of life was considered an acceptable loss in the grand scheme of things. Retrieve the device, kill anyone who may have witnessed it. No exceptions. Glass the whole region if you have to and call it an enemy attack and unfortunate necessity.

Apex had arrived at their destination, but instead of seeing a town of rust, scrap, and weakness masquerading as an altar of defiance against the Soluna Consortium — and by extension the Paragons — was instead replaced by a dome of thick fog.

The soldiers on the ground had said it just appeared out of nowhere, they tried entering it but it just deposited them on the other side. They tried destroying it, but whatever attempt to disperse the fog were in vain, it just recovered too quickly.

Not that Apex doubted the reports of the soldiers, however… what doesn’t work for them doesn’t mean it won’t work for a god like Apex. As a test, Apex placed their hand in the barrier. It dispersed and then closed in around their hand. They couldn’t tell exactly where it was.

‘Maybe try destroying it?’

Power started gathering in their hands, a concussive energy blast centered around their forearm, expand out like a bubble. An energy pulse in a way. Once again the fog dispersed slightly, but recovered. Still, it seems as though the size of the damage had an affect on the recovery time. So if they just factored that in to the force of an attack or…

. . . . . .

Apex didn’t have time for this, why did they need to try and figure out a way to undo the fog dome? Apex was a 1st-Class Paragon, the most powerful among them, the Inheritor of the Founders’ will, a god in living flesh. And there was a wall of fog standing in their way? How ridiculous was that?

“Determining countermeasures…. done”

“Activating Roulette… Electro Generation, slotted”

“Chance of success…. 99.7%”

Electricity sparked off in arcs around Apex’s arms, they clapped their hands together as a lightning arced and twisted between their palms.

“Maximum charge achieved”

Apex released the stored energy as a ring, dispersing the fog barrier enough to break through the opening just before it recovered and closed around them.

Now in the fog-covered town, Apex landed with a thud outside of a building surrounded by the corpses of disgusting abominations. One tried crawling away as Apex passed by, he stepped on its skull, and then wiped the gore off on the front steps.

When Apex opened the door, a macabre sight was lain before him. Bodies of humans, monsters, all strewn about in a red landscape. The most notable of which was a giant, dark, monstrosity bulging with muscles, its corpse pinned to the wall by a sword with a cane-like handle. Something about that cane seemed familiar, but they didn’t care to remember.

Apex followed the path of bodies up the steps, and was greeted by the sight of someone who the readout in their field of vision indicated as a Soluna Consortium Agent.

Damaged, and barely standing, yet like a true son of the Consortium, he stood against the ravenous tide. Apex could almost say he was proud… at least, as proud as he could be for the actions of a human, no matter how chromed he might be.

In addition to Sylvester, several humans, both of the Consortium and of these savages lined the walls. Treating the injured, sharing ammo and food, talking, and comprehending the desperate melee that followed. Disgusting. Soldiers of the consortium cavorting with members of the independent lands? Disgraceful.

When Sylvester laid his gaze upon Apex, it took him a moment of recognition before he gasped and prostrated himself before the mighty Apex, just as he should. Peasants needed to show deference to their gods after all, no matter what rank you were in the Consortium.

“L-Lord Apex!” He groveled, not daring to lift his head. The survivors, both in good health and injured did so as well. Good instincts.

Apex scanned the hallways, bodies everywhere, a desperate battle had been pitched here, that much is obvious. A lesser human might’ve cared for the well-being of the flock, but this was not Apex’s problem. No matter how many died, there would always be more, they were just organic machines after all. No, Apex needed to just get the lay of the land, and then go from there. And if any of these people happened to witness the Class-0 Device… well, nothing could be done about that. Orders were orders.

“Give me a sit-rep.” Apex held up his hand before the one-armed agent spoke, “Keep it under a paragraph.”

“Right. Right. Of course. Um…” He struggled. “Supers have invaded, they are likely the ones responsible for the Fog and the Monsters. Gatekeepers responded and are on the move to take them out. We’ve been holding up here against the tide, thanks to Gatekeeper SO-”

“That’s fine.” Apex said while pacing the halls. “Basically, you were under attack, you fought back, and another unit is hunting the source of the fog and monsters. Got it. And where’s the Gatekeeper?”

Sylvester pointed down the hall, where a pile of monster bodies were laid out along the walls like twisted decorations. Bullets, blunt-force trauma, slashes, stabs, disintegration, burned, and even torn asunder, not a single monster had been spared. And at the very back of that display of brutality, leaning against the door, damaged and eyes closed, a single stalwart defender.

The disheveled form of Sofia. She barely regarded him, — or anything for that matter — she just leaned against the door, bloodied scabbard masquerading as a cane in one hand, and a gun in the other.

“The Gatekeeper, my lord… she protected the delegation till her last breath, it was… magnificent. Ah, my lord, I wouldn’t-”

As Apex stepped forward, closer to the door, Sofia suddenly sprang to life and struck their mighty armor with her cane. It didn’t do any damage, but Apex stepped back regardless. “She’s still alive?” This certainly impressed Apex, though less impressed when they saw her eyes still unfocused and damaged. She resumed her place against the door, like a clockwork doll resetting to her base position.

“Yes, as I understand, she stretched her energy reserves to their limit, and is currently in standby mode. That was likely an automated defense.”

“I see.” Apex contemplated whether or not there was a way to could get away with killing her. The Gatekeepers, in Apex’s mind, were the creations of cowards, traitors, and heretics. These undead monstrosities were supposed to stand on the same stage as a Paragon? Ridiculous. Still, Paragons weren’t authorized to kill them — one of the few limitations that they followed from the Council — and they knew to not directly attack people of a certain rank or higher within the Soluna Consortium due to their programming, so… barring official orders or certain situations, there was no benefit to attacking them.

Besides, they killed false gods. Why bother wasting time trying to show others the true might of a 1st-Class Paragon when these metal abominations could fulfill a similar, if less impressive, function. Either they lose, and the rivals look weaker. Or they win, and that’s one less pretender to crush.

Unless… orders still stood. Find the Class-0 Device, and kill anyone who so much as witnessed it. There was an easy way to see though. Apex swiped through their helmet’s high-tech sensors. Conveniently, the device gave off the same reading as the Anomalyous Energy, it had a very specific signature. If it had passed by here even a little bit, then Apex would need to kill everyone in the building and maybe even the whole street just to be sure.

. . . . . . . .

A 1.7% dispersion. Not nearly enough to trigger the extermination protocols, hell that reading could just be the residual particles that rain down on them constantly. No, these pawns and heretics could live for now. Wait, there was something Apex was forgetting.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Ah, right! Where’s your commanding officer?”

“Well-”

“DIE YOU HEATHEN SCUM!” A man had suddenly burst out of a room, rifle in hand and started firing while screaming like a lunatic. His mad firing caused a panic as people ducked into cover and stayed low to the ground as rounds peppered the walls and ceiling. Apex was hit several times until the gun clicked empty, the bullets rebounding off the armor as if they themselves were afraid of Apex.

When the battle haze cleared, and his pupils constricted back to their normal size, he stepped unsteadily forward. Now noticing who exactly he fired at. “Oh by the founders… L-L-Lord Apex!” He threw the gun down and practically slammed his head down on the floor to grovel at the foot of Apex. “S-S-Sir! I swear, I didn’t know it was you! It was quiet, I thought everyone was dead- I mean, I was just reloading, I promise! I-I was there! Fighting the good fight sir, please believe me!”

“....” This display was just pathetic. Still, a quick scan revealed that he too was too low for enforcement action. Lucky him.

Apex turned around, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

There was nothing left to do here, and Apex had a job to do, then Apex could go home or to another battlefield where-

“Excuse me, sir.” The groveling man dared to lift his head. “If… if it’s not too much trouble, could you tell us how to get out of here? S-So we can regroup with the main unit, I mean! You managed to get in, so surely you can… help us out.”

Apex stopped in their tracks. For several seconds, he stayed silent and still. Why exactly?

. . . . .

Oh, Apex was just making a quick cost-risk analysis of their next action. “You want to leave the battlefield, commander?”

“Well, not… technically…” Cassius responded. “I mean, I am a commander and… a commander is at his best when he’s giving orders, not down here in the mud and blood with the exp- I mean, the Consortium’s finest. Sir.”

“So… you want to desert your post, is that what you’re asking me to help you with?”

If there was a record for how quickly a man could go pale, this man, Cassius, would’ve blown every other out of the water. “N-N-N-NO SIR! NOT AT ALL! I’m just saying, that… I… am a high-ranking member of the Soluna Consortium’s military, and to more effectively… er… conduct battlefield operations, I would like to request an escort out of the fog. I-If it’s not… too much of an imposition, sir.”

“. . . . .” Apex chuckled, this man was either brave or stupid, to ask a favor of a god after that same god just bailed him out of danger. “Very well.” Apex was amused by this, so they left the building with Cassius in tow. No one else dared follow, though Apex caught the hateful glares of the soldiers at Cassius as they proudly walked out of the building.

“So,” Cassius began, “How will we getting out of here? Is there a route, some kind of device, or something?”

“No, no, nothing fancy like that.” He turned to Cassius as the two of them stepped out onto the street. “Just stand here.” Apex pointed to a spot in the middle of the street.

Cassius confidence wavered, he probably should’ve realized it by now. Perhaps, he kept rolling with this because he had no choice, or maybe he wanted to believe that Apex had a way out. He nodded, and stepped forward, standing where Apex told him to.

He couldn’t help but notice how much taller Apex stood. Granted, Cassius wasn’t exactly short; good genes had blessed him with a strong body and tall stature but Apex… this man wasn’t that much taller than him, yet somehow made him feel practically miniscule.

Apex’s powerful hand was placed upon Cassius’ shoulder. “So, remind me again… what exactly did you want to demand of me?”

“I… I didn’t d-”

Apex’s head twisted to stare directly into Cassius’ eyes. He couldn’t see past the opaque visor, but the gesture should’ve been more than enough to tell him to not try to mince words. “What. Did. You. Want?” Apex said, slowly.

“I… I said that… I wanted to leave. Because I felt that… a-as a commander in the 47th Legion, that I’m better commanding troops from a secu-” Apex’s mighty hand clenched around Cassius’ neck.

“Ah, yes, that’s right… you wanted to leave. You, a puny mortal dared to command a god? Why, because you happened to share DNA with that old traitor? Is that why you thought you could tell me what to do?”

As Apex lifted him with barely any effort, Cassius tried to wrest Apex’s fingers from around his throat. “S-Sir, p-p-please… I… c-can’t… breathe!”

“Oh I know, but bear with it for just a little longer. It’ll be over soon.” He held Cassius several inches off the ground as he watched the life drain from his eyes. Still, Apex, even after every life they’ve taken, still felt nothing. No pity, remorse, not even anger really. No. Apex wasn’t doing this out of hatred or justice, no… this man, Cassius, might’ve been a half-decent commander or at least, served as good cannon fodder.

However, he dared to order a god to bend to his whims? The hubris. Well, as the gods of old did, Apex would punish this man’s hubris.

He wanted to leave, well then… Apex could grant that final request at least.

Apex picked a spot in the fog dome, possibly the same spot they came in through. Then, they held their arm back, intending to have him exit through that same spot. Though… the results would likely be quite different.