Chapter 157: Heroes And Villains
Still screaming, Ash thrashed against the rubble, his movements frantic and uncoordinated as his breath hitched and scraped through his chest. Blood drained from his face while his hands clawed at stone and dirt, most of his body loose enough to twist and writhe, but his foot remained trapped. He yanked and tore at it with everything he had. There should have been pain. There wasn't. The absence below his ankle fed the panic, turning effort into desperation.
Dust sifted down as Triss cocked her head, watching fragments of stone and grit shake free with every violent pull he made.
"Help! Help me! Somebody!"
The shout shredded his throat. He had no sense of time, no measure for how long he'd been buried or what might still be happening above him. He kept yelling anyway, voice cracking, breath breaking, begging until the echoes died and the truth settled in heavy and final. He was alone. No answer was coming.
"Triss! Go get help! Go up and find someone! Hurry!"
The ghost cat stared back at him, unmoving, her eyes flat and fixed, before she slowly shook her head.
The refusal hit through the link before his mind could argue it. Triss would not leave him. Not wounded. Not buried. Not alone.
"I'm fine, just go!"
He snapped, words tumbling faster as fear crept higher.
"If I can't get out, I'll die, Triss. Do you wanna watch me die?!"
His voice shook apart on the last word, thin and breaking, and the sound tightened something in his chest that he couldn't push down. Triss felt it immediately. She stepped in close, pressing her weight against him, kneading her head into his sternum in slow, grounding pushes.
[Ash…]
Half-blind with panic, deaf to his system's voice and dulled by blood loss, Ash drew back to strike Triss, the motion sharp and instinctive, then froze as her forehead flared with soft purple light.
She pushed a memory into him.
Colors flashed, then through her sight, he saw his own body from above, limp beneath the debris yet still breathing, chest rising shallow and uneven. Her panic bled through in jagged bursts as she searched for anything she could use, anything she could move, but her paws passed through stone and steel without resistance. Frustration hardened into resolve. She lifted her head, fixed on a decision, and drove herself upward, tearing through the collapsed mass toward open air.
When she broke free, the world waiting above bore no resemblance to anything Ash remembered. The docks were gone. The warehouses were gone. The graffiti that marked territory and history had been scraped out of existence. In their place lay shattered concrete, twisted metal, and scorched ground, a landscape stripped down to ruin.
It looked as though the Dead Hands had been erased from Shatterbay in a single, deliberate stroke.
Triss didn't hesitate. She sprinted toward the last place they had seen Gregor, skidding to a halt only when her nose brushed a severed leg lying in the open, a few rats chewing into its flesh. Her head snapped up as scent hit her, sharp and unmistakable, and she bounded forward again, tracking it until she stopped once more.
Ash tried to shut the thoughts out as the memory continued. He pushed back against the conclusion forming in his mind, clung to denial even after seeing that first limb. But when Triss paused over a severed hand, sniffing at it before moving on, there was no room left to pretend. Death had swept through the Dead Hands.
The realization hollowed him out. Rage, grief, and disbelief crashed together until he could barely breathe, even trapped inside the vision. He wanted to scream, to fight against it, to tear his way free, but all he could do was watch as the life he'd barely started to build collapsed around him. He had joined the Dead Hands only to die with them.
The storm inside him churned as Triss kept moving. Past another leg. Then an arm. Then something that froze everything burning in his chest.
Gregor.
He was bound upright against a fallen steel beam, still breathing, still alive, but no longer whole. Both legs were gone. One arm ended at the shoulder. The other stopped at the wrist. The wounds had been sealed with care, preserving what remained, leaving him displayed like a butchered prize.
In the memory, Triss hissed without warning, her gaze snapping toward a source of light pooling in the corner of the ruins. A voice followed, flat and amused—
"I hate cats."
The light detonated, and the memory cut out.
"Triss—shit!"
Ash snapped upright and cracked his head against stone, the impact knocking a grunt out of him. Pressing a palm to his forehead, he forced his eyes open, vision swimming as it adjusted to the dark. The first thing he did was search for Triss, then drag his focus across his interface, the tension in his chest easing only when her status came into view and stayed steady.
[Triss // Umbrel Felis]
[HP // 370/370]
[SE // 30/30]
[Ash.]
Her health was full. Her spectral energy untouched. Whatever had struck her in that memory had failed. Relief surged through him, then collapsed the instant Gregor's ruined body surfaced in his mind, followed by the hard certainty that settled behind it.
No one was coming.
He didn't know how long he'd been buried, but his arms still responded when he moved them, his hands still had strength in them. That meant he wasn't done yet.
"I have to get out. I have to warn Seo-jin. Gregor's going to die if we don't do something!"
[Ash!]
"What?!"
His pulse slammed in his ears, breath shortening as panic pushed against his ribs and refused to slow.
[You need to calm down. You're injured. If you keep forcing yourself like this—]
Even through the noise in his head, he caught the strain in his system's voice, the worry bleeding through their link. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms as his jaw locked.
"I don't care. If we don't move, Gregor dies. Seo-jin will walk straight into an ambush if we don't—"
[You're going to die! Damn it, Ash, why didn't you listen to me?! I'm sorry, but it's over. There's nothing you can do.]
"Huh? What are you talking about? Stop screwing around and help me—"
[Your foot, Ash. It's gone, and you're bleeding out. The only reason you havent yet is that rock is cutting off your circulation. Even if you weren't pinned, you're running out of oxygen. I should be telling you it's going to be okay, that you'll be fine, but you won't. You can't—what are you doing?]
The words landed hard, but they fit together too cleanly to deny. Even through the haze, he knew better than to ignore his system. If it said he was dying, then that was the truth.
It didn't change a damn thing.
Ash reached out, fingers closing around a loose stone half-buried in the rubble, its edge worn down to a rough point. He dragged it free, grit scraping his skin, and lifted it with both hands as his breathing hitched.
[Ash! What are you doing?! Stop!]
"No! A hero doesn't stop! He doesn't quit when he knows his people are in danger."
His gaze dropped to his trapped ankle, jaw tightening as resolve hardened into something ugly and immovable. He glanced at Triss, holding her eyes for a brief second before forcing the words out.
"When it's over, you get us out. No matter what. Even if this cave collapses on me, you try. Promise me."
She studied him in silence, then her tail went rigid and she gave a single, sharp nod.
Ash turned back to his leg and pulled in one last breath, chest shuddering as he braced himself.
[You're not a hero, Ash. You're just a kid. Please—don't.]
"I'm not a kid. I'm a Dead Hand!"
He drove the stone down with everything he had.
The moment rock met flesh, a scream ripped out of him, raw and uncontrolled. The stone slipped from his fingers as his body convulsed, tears flooding his vision while pain detonated up his spine.
[You'll kill yourself!]
"I...don't...care!"
Something inside him fractured, clean and final.
He grabbed the stone again, hands shaking so hard he could barely lift it, forced his eyes open through the blur, and raised it high. Bone cracked on the next strike, the sound sharp and unmistakable in the confined space.
He brought it down again.
And again.
And again.
Memories from the past week surged through him alongside the pain, Seo-jin, Min, the capsule buried for later, each recollection blurred and weightless until it twisted, collapsing inward as something ugly and suffocating took hold.
The rock stayed raised, no longer aimed at his ankle. In its place, his father's face filled his vision, frozen on that final expression, the disbelief and hurt still burned into Ash's memory.
"Heroes don't give up!"
The stone came down, tearing through flesh as bone gave way beneath it.
"They don't run!"
What remained couldn't crack anymore. The blows landed with a dull, wet impact, again and again, until the resistance finally changed—
"Triss, go big!"
The final strike tore through what little still connected foot to leg.
Burning agony erupted, white and consuming, so intense it stripped thought from him before a slow, building cold crept in behind it. His strength collapsed with his body as he fell back, vision tilting while his arm reached out for Triss.
She answered without hesitation.
[Essence Line / Umbral Felis]
[Spectral Release // Activated]
Violet light flooded the crushed space as Ash's awareness slipped, the system's warnings and damage readouts dissolving into static. Only his father's face lingered as everything else faded to black.
As he went limp, Triss moved. Her form surged, spectral mass expanding as she took her tiger shape, one stripe snapping around his ankle and cinching tight until the bleeding slowed. Another pair slid beneath him, lifting his broken body onto her back with careful force.
She scanned the wreckage...the flattened corpses, the collapsed steel, the debris that had caged him...and every strand of her fur bristled as her aura flared outward.
Stripes lashed in all directions, spearing into stone and coiling around twisted metal.
Slowly, but surely, the ground began to tremble.
----
The Titles panel hung before him, and as Seo-jin read through it again, disbelief tightened his jaw while his pulse crept higher.
[Title // Ashking]
[Evolved From // Kinslayer → Bloodline Betrayer]
[Condition Met // Elf King Devoured / Quest Sever The Bond 2.0 Completed]
[1st Effect]
[All Imps recognize you as their absolute sovereign. Ashlings submit instinctively, regardless of hostility or allegiance. Possessing total dominion over the Imp race, issued commands override fear, loyalty, and self-preservation.]
[2nd Effect]
[You may temporarily borrow one Skill or Ability from any Broodling that has acquired a Class or Mutation. Borrowed abilities scale with your own stats and persist for a limited duration.]
[Available Skills / Abilities]
[Pain // Inferno Rend / D]
[Panic // Organ Spill / D]
[Snare // Dusk Sight / D]
[Hex // Ruin Crescendo / D]
[Widow // Lilid's Venom / D]
[Bile // Bloodmask Manifestation / D]
[Restrictions]
[Borrowed abilities cannot exceed the Broodling's current rank // Only one borrowed ability may be active at a time // Access ends if the Broodling dies or the duration expires.]
[3rd Effect // Locked]
[Ashkin no longer fear you as death. They know you as rule.]
[Told ya.]
His breathing tightened as the weight of it fully registered. This wasn't a single borrowed edge or a situational spike, but a revolving arsenal, six distinct functions ready to be drawn at will. Even with the third effect being locked, the scale of it was shocking.
"This is massive."
He muttered, eyes tracking the list again.
"No cap on brood count either."
The title's name lingered with weight as he traced it in his mind, rolling it over like something earned and dangerous. Ashking. It fit too well.
A faint blue glow slid into his peripheral vision, cutting through the moment before it could finish setting. Grimm drifted into view just beyond the panel, hollow gaze fixed on him.
"Oh, fuck. Forgot."
With effort, he dismissed the panel and forced his hands to stay still, resisting the pull to test one of the borrowed abilities, then pushed a single command through the twinback growths instead.
They convulsed and retched, coughing wetly as pieces of Teal were expelled across the dirt, slick and half-formed, each chunk twitching before dragging itself toward the rest. Muscle knitted, skin sealed, and when her face finally pulled together, her eyes flew open as she took in the process in reverse, screaming while her body finished assembling beneath her.
[You should probably warn people before this happens. The broodlings enjoy it. Humans won't. She's probably gonna be traumatized.]
The noise scraped at him until he crossed the distance and struck her hard enough to snap her head sideways, the sound sharp and final.
"Stop screaming. You're fine."
The jolt worked. Pain was familiar to her, predictable, and it cut through the panic faster than reassurance ever could. When she looked back up at him, her breath was uneven but slowing, awareness settling in behind her eyes.
"That's better. Can you stand?"
"I—I think so."
She pushed herself upright, legs trembling but holding, only to drop back down when the wreckage of the elf encampment came into focus, ash and bodies spread out where a settlement had been.
"You did it…"
The words slipped out without direction, her hand rising to her mouth as tears started to form.
He grabbed her shirt and hauled her back to her feet, fingers tight enough to bruise, then set her down squarely and held her gaze.
"I don't tolerate hysteria. Stay upright and follow me. I have questions, and I expect answers. If I decide you're lying, I'll hand you over to them. You understand?"
He gestured without looking, and the lesser brood responded on instinct, jaws snapping, tongues tasting the air as they watched her.
Color drained from her face, but she didn't collapse again.
Seo-jin gave a short nod.
"Good."
He moved toward the camp at a steady pace and began questioning her without ceremony, asking only for names and reasons, letting the rhythm of walking keep her talking. She hesitated at first, measuring each word, but she didn't lie, and he could tell by the way her pulse shifted when she spoke. The story was common enough to bore him: abuse, hunger, survival carved out under those stronger than her. The admission of elven blood didn't surprise him either; the scent sat wrong in her veins, thin but unmistakable.
What held his attention were her abilities. He was about to press her on that when Snare and Min closed in from the flank, Min dragging what remained of Teal's guard behind her. The elf's lower half had erupted into creeping vines, the growth buried deep in the corpse of an imp, roots pulsing weakly as they leeched what little time they could. Seo-jin recognized the tactic immediately. The man was stalling death.
The question was why he'd bother.
Snare approached first, pausing to run a hand along Grimm's skull before giving a short nod.
"He claims to be her father. What's your call?"
Min released the elf and let him hit the ground.
Seo-jin looked to Teal, and the change in her was immediate, her feet sliding back as if the words themselves had shoved her.
"Father? No—"
Her voice cracked. Along with all that was left of her restraint. Abuse was acceptable, but this? This was too much for even her.
"Lies!"
Her gaze caught on a fallen elven blade nearby, rough and utilitarian, sharp enough. She lunged for it and charged the dying elf without a second thought.
Snare intercepted her mid-step and drove her down before the strike could land.
Seo-jin dropped to a knee beside Teal, steadying her with one hand before turning his attention to the elf, switching to the man's own language.
"Speak. Explain how you're tied to her."
The elf hauled himself over, forcing his body flat, then seized a fistful of vines tearing from his own abdomen and used them to drag the imp corpse closer, buying another shallow breath. He looked up at Seo-jin, then at Teal, and began to speak, his words coming out in a slow spill while Seo-jin translated each line for the others.
By the time he finished, the camp had gone quiet.
Even Seo-jin felt it.
He stood and looked down at Teal, her face hollowed by what she'd heard, and shook his head. The sensation that followed was rare enough to unsettle him.
For the first time in a long while, he felt something close to pity.