Scorching Ascension - 2.45: Providence (Pt. 1)

A/N: The fatigue is catching up with me. Next one should be tomorrow. Maybe Sunday at the latest, but likely tomorrow.

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Flying at night was a little tougher than Ethan expected.

He could see just fine, but while he’d done the trip to Providence in the past, back when cars and trucks and traffic lights were still a thing, flying over the dark, quiet road was disconcerting. He kept the highway in sight, of course, and he noticed how some parts of it were cracked and cratered, likely from monstrous fights or whatnot. But it was odd seeing the abandoned cars that littered it.

He’d seen something similar in a trailer for a zombie movie. Or was it a series? He couldn’t recall. He hadn’t been paid that much attention, back then.

The quiet flight was… relaxing. It was letting him cool off a bit from everything that had gone on, and now that he was taking a step back, he wondered how bad the damage actually was in New Dawn.

He knew that some people died. Of that he was sure. But he hoped the losses were minimal. Once he converted the Union’s pylon, he’d be able to talk to Amanda and know for sure.

Still, the trip was rather short. He remembered being around an hour by car, and so it merely took him around thirty minutes to see the lights in the distance. He’d already flown past a couple of settlements—which he believed were part of the Union. But he ignored those for now. His target was the capital and hopefully, taking over the main pylon would make it so all the others followed. Otherwise he’d pick them off on his way back.

Still, while the flight allowed him to cool off for a short while, now that the settlement was approaching, he could sense his features tensing.

Providence—the city—was, much like Charlestown, overgrown and showing plenty of signs of battle and decay. But not all of it.

Nestled up on the north side of the city, close to a residential area, a circle of restored buildings mixed with the new familiar cabins provided by the pylon, and it was spreading. Decayed building were removed, then a new construction was built on top. And this was occurring even at night. He could see the figures milling about a lit up mansion, using wood and earth magic to stabilize and reinforce it.

Of course, it had been barely a couple of days since this all had started, so they hadn’t progressed that much. They did manage a wall, though. Nothing like Wyldrock had created and maintained, but it was there, and he could picture it slowly spreading out to engulf the rest of the city in time. For now, his eyes swiveled to the group waiting right outside the walls. In front of a barricade built right on top of the cracked asphalt.

They had already noticed him and as he dove to the ground, a few took a couple of wary steps back, as if expecting him to barrel through them but in the end, none of them ran. The fact that they didn’t scramble away told him Amanda had gotten the message across, which was a good start.

There were 11 of them, standing in the front. Behind, bodyguards. Protection. There were around fifteen of those, most with at least a couple of spellforms and turning his attention to what he assumed to be the leaders, he scanned them as the ground approached, and one of them immediately drew his gaze.

It was the woman who had led the assault on Wyldrock. The mage who’d broke out of her hold, teleporting away after she’d woken up.

He was a little surprised she’d shown herself, but he held off on doing anything for now. The fact was, there were no casualties in that particular assault, even though it was still a part of the whole. And, well, there was a sweating man at her feet.

A portly, sweating and trembling man with his his hands tied behind his back.

Their scapegoat, he presumed.

Ethan slowed down and tucking his wings, he dropped down to the asphalt with a loud thud. The asphalt cracked under his scaled feet, and torchlight reflected over his scales as he scanned the welcoming committee.

Aside from the robed woman, the rest looked somewhat… normal. They wore the same mishmash of recovered clothing and System-given wearable items. There were a few different eyes here and there, and under the clothing and surface, [Sphinx’s Gaze] was picking up the shine of some not-so-visible spellforms. They looked like any person he might see in New Dawn. Though most of their levels were in the upper sixties, with most having managed to punch through the seventies.

Ethan’s gaze finally focused on the prisoner, and the shaking grew worse.

“I wish we’ve met under better circumstances,” said a young man in a ranger-like outfit as he shot the captive man a glare, “but that’s not the case. We—the ruling council of the Union, deeply regret the events that transpired tonight. We would do our utmost to—”

“Did Amanda tell you how many died?” Ethan cut off, looking away from the trembling man in a suit. He looked to be in his late forties. Maybe early fifties.

The council shuffled on their feet, while the protectors stood still. Tense. And after a second, the man who’d elected to speak answered.

“She did.”

“And?”

The man swallowed. “9 people have died from the assault of the Brotherhood.”

Ethan slowly turned to fully face the man, and he waited. Deep within, he sensed something begin to rouse at the attempt of sidestepping their hand in this whole debacle. And it must have shown, because the man paled, and with a cough, he added. “… Because of the coordinated assault that our own had participated in. You must understand, this… scheme had been mostly orchestrated by this man,” he added, regaining his footing as he nodded toward the tied up man. “He manipulated and twisted the intelligence we had, and he was the one who’d communicated with—”

Ethan took a step toward the captive man, and the guards immediately moved, interposing themselves between him and his target.

The leaders immediately shouted at them to back off, while another council-member—an older woman with a scholarly look to her, spoke up. “I apologize, Ethan. But we would like to avoid any further bloodshed. While his actions are unforgivable, we wish to prosecute our own. We can promise the senator will not get off easy. Can we find a way to resolve this matter diplomatically?”

That almost distracted him from the man he intended on executing. But still, he took the time to look at the woman and without himself being able to stop it, a smile pulled on his lips, which then turned into a dark chuckle that disturbed the council.

It made sense. The laugh didn’t sound pleasant. It almost sounded mocking. “Diplomacy was when Amanda had been trying to talk you people down. Your diplomacy had you send a child to bully Wyldrock into giving you control. And you didn’t stop there. You had your own agents come to New Dawn with veiled threats. If my own hadn’t shown themselves capable of withstanding your attempts, you would have forced your way in there too. I wonder how many of your cities were forced into giving away their control. Actually, I don’t have to wonder,” he realized. His eyes scanning them, he asked. “How many of you are from your other settlements? Do you pick people from them to lead, or do you just muscle your way in?”

He saw a couple of mouths stammer, but the woman who’d spoken of diplomacy answered. “Each one of us represents their own group and pylon,” she said, not addressing any of the other grievances he pointed out. Someone else was about to speak, but Ethan raised his hand, forestalling it before he pointed to the senator. “This rat might have been the one who’d pushed things too far, but don’t act as if you all hadn’t been pretty aggressive on your push for expansion.”

Someone he hadn’t spoken to responded then, and Ethan noticed how the woman he’d seen before winced as the voice filled the quiet street. Beyond the barricade, Ethan could see faces peering at them, talking in hushed voices as the scene played out.

“It’s a new world,” said a frowning old man. “We’re too fragmented. We need to unite all of humanity’s forces under the same standard before any other… factions come from the outside,” he said, and a couple of heads nodded at his words, while the rest either looked away, or grimaced at the opening they’d presented to Ethan’s argument.

He nodded along with the man and his allies, a mirthless smile still on his lips. “I agree. That’s why I’ll be taking over.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the quiet street, and before the first could muster a response, a concentrated [Water Jet] shot out of the edge of a wing. In the half second it took him to charge it, a few had noticed the oncoming spell and had shouted a warning, shielding themselves and protecting the weaker individuals of the council. But none of them had been his target.

The water hissed, punching through the senator’s head and through the asphalt behind, and in the raucous that followed, Ethan lowered his hands, ignoring the shouting warriors and casters, who quickly quieted down at the signal from their council. “I don’t trust you to prosecute him. I don’t even trust if you’ll manage to keep him a prisoner. Or maybe you’re just trying to get me off your back. At the end of the day, none of it matters,” he said, his stare hard, glaring down whomever managed to meet his gaze. “We tried diplomacy. It didn’t work. My people died. Now you’re going to be dealing with me. And with him out of the picture, I’m taking in the pylon and dealing with any opposition you’ll throw my way. At which point, we can go back to diplomacy.”

He gave them a second to digest his words as he cracked his neck, and with his hands behind his back, he asked. “So? I can either integrate your pylons, or I can salvage them. What will it be?”