MM - Chapter 219 - THE HEEL OF OPPRESSION

Raine passed through the lobby slowly, a broad, confident smile fixed on his face. His presence alone grounded the guilders around him, but that wasn't good enough. He clasped hands that shook with uncertainty and clapped stooped backs, instilling his people with genuine warmth. He knew their fear all too well, and he would not let it persist. With every interaction, tensions eased and morale rose. Excusing himself from the throng, he motioned them to back away, then halted just inside the lobby's fortified doors. His gaze could not pierce the reinforced metal. Still, misted bloodlust seeped through, locking onto Alyxson Qorren standing alone in the street.

The man's rigid posture screamed deception; his intent was a venomous serpent, poised to strike the hand that once offered sustenance. No employees flanked Alyxson—making the claim of needing access to the building for his team an obviously fabricated pretext. The setup reeked of Torune and Vaneese’s handiwork. Not necessarily an attempt to pry open Belehorn's defenses, but to further demoralize. The trap was obvious, and Raine’s body, now evolved through the brutality of tempering, vibrated with anticipation of the fight to come.

A sharp, unexpected laugh burst free—not at the fool outside, but at a sudden dose of clarity. Bhima's first ten passages had been an often-humorous hint. The path to peak master mirrored the grind of gym life—tearing down muscle fibers to rebuild them stronger. The answer had been in front of Raine for years, and it never once occurred to him.

He pushed through the doors, arms spreading wide in mock welcome. “Alyxson! You have no idea how perfect your timing is.”

The man's face twisted in outrage, finger jabbing accusingly. “Perfect?! I've been waiting for hours! How dare you block access to my own building! This is a clear breach of—”

Alyxson's words died as murderous intent spiked from above, a predatory surge that set Raine's senses ablaze. He didn't glance up; he didn't need to. Internal force surged through him as mental barriers were shattered. He pushed harder than ever before, knowing his reforged muscles could handle the strain. He propelled forward in a dash-step that blurred the world around him. Air thickened against Raine’s skin like impenetrable tar, resisting velocity as his form stretched to place Alyxson between him and what was coming.

A hovercar plummeted like a vengeful comet, slamming into the pavement where he'd stood an instant before. An explosion of metal screamed and twisted, erupting into jagged shards racing in all directions. Roaring flames licked at the air, shattering the midday serenity. Alyxson’s scream was cut short as debris pummeled him. The lower-quality fabric of his 4th-floor Shillids offered no hardening against the onslaught. Punctured organs liquefied, skin charred black, and he flew into Raine, bouncing away: lifeless.

The macabre shield and his higher-quality suit did their job, protecting against the shrapnel storm. Heat washed over Raine, and his ears were completely useless—a deafening ring drowning out everything else. He didn’t need to hear; he didn’t even need to see. Bloodlust revealed everything that mattered. Ten figures descended in unison, landing in a predatory circle. CronGate's experts were clad in tactical gear, each with blades and electrified batons held at the ready.

Only two wielded mental abilities. Their meager attempts to debilitate Raine were crushed under the cataclysmic weight of his bloodlust.

Terror clutched their hearts, freezing muscles. Internal force flooded Raine’s limbs. His body sang with power, every movement a declaration of enhanced efficiency—faster reactions, denser muscles, unbreakable focus. Synapses fired at speeds his past self would have thought impossible outside ZionLine. Time slowed to a crawl. 

Raine lunged, followed by two steps so rapid his legs became a ghostly blur. The first victim managed to raise his blade in time, thrusting low for the gut. A leg snapped out, impacting the man’s elbow with the combined force of Raine’s dash and empowered physique. A sickening crunch and cut-short scream erupted as the kick broke through both arm and chest.

The man folded in half and flew away. Raine redirected the force of his attack to send himself toward the next man. He fluidly ducked and twisted as a blade whistled past his ear. A sharp elbow strike crumpled the attacker's chest armor and carried right through to collapse his left lung. Raine was already pivoting as the man rocketed away. His heel shot out in a devastating mule kick at the third—a woman. Her hip splintered like brittle glass, the impact hurling her airborne to collide with a comrade.

Two more closed in from the flanks, synchronized sweeps of short, powered batons arced for his thigh and head. Wisps of steam curled from Raine’s skin as internal force superheated his muscles. A shuffle-step made his location impossible to predict. His foot landed on the wrist of the first. He used the swing as a springboard to jump back and spin toward the second. A wicked roundhouse allowed his boot to clip a jaw. A wet snap sounded as flesh sundered and bones tore free.

The first had yet to recover by the time Raine landed. A lightning-fast step brought him into range while evading a hurled chain from the side, its links gouging deep furrows into the ceraphault street. Inside the baton wielder’s guard, two quick jabs turned ribs to dust and ruptured sensitive organs that the man could live without, for a few moments. Raine was past the chain wielder before he finished collapsing. Air exploded from lungs in a horrified scream as both his knees bent backward—the result of two rapid down-angled kicks.

The remaining elites couldn’t take a single step toward the monster before them. Their brains were frozen with soul-wrenching fear. This was no fight; it was a slaughter. Their ambush had failed. Morale shattered, and they fled. Only two made it far enough that chasing them wasn’t worth it. Raine stood calmly amid the groaning wreckage, chest heaving not from exertion, but exhilaration. He had done exactly as he set out to do. Not one of the elites lay dead. They would live, and while they slowly recovered from their injuries, they would enter ZionLine, utilizing their skills to gather equipment that would become his for the taking.

Raine had hinted to Pamalaiha of a new world—not one of swift executions, but of draining foes dry before finally granting them a merciful end. He re-entered Belehorn Tower, not sparing a second glance at Alyxson’s smoldering remains. The man had made his bed, and now he would rest in it forever.

As the reinforced doors hissed shut, Raine was met with a surge of cheers that echoed off the crimson-lit walls. His people crowded around, faces alight with fierce admiration—Morty had broadcast the brief, brutal fight on the indoor smartwalls, turning the skirmish into a rallying exhibit on what the recruits of Astra yearned to learn. Raine raised his hands, calling for silence.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you want. You desire the techniques and knowledge that the clans and powers have kept from you. That’s why you joined Astra Infernum. The next time you log into ZionLine, your true training begins. I won't promise quick results. What you've seen takes years. But if you stay... you will not be left behind.”

The cheers turned to emotional roars of approval that rattled the tiles beneath Raine’s feet. He shook hands firmly, clapping shoulders with genuine affection, and shared laughs that cut through the lingering tension like a blade.

“Morty,” Raine called out as he waded deeper, “Carefully lead a crew to clean up the mess. Leave the martials alone—they're more useful alive than dead.”

The AI's voice crackled with synthetic sarcasm. “Oh, joy. Another glorious janitorial expedition. Nothing screams 'advanced intelligence' like scrubbing blood off the pavement.”

Raine chuckled as he boarded the elevator. His watch chimed again, this time with an incoming message from Richtor that he'd been eagerly anticipating. “We made it. She's fine. What now?”

Relief loosened the knot in Raine’s chest upon hearing that their mother was in good hands. “Streets here are a bit dangerous. I don’t like the idea of you flying back. Stay there for now and get your asses into ZL. We’ve got training to do. You didn’t notice anyone following you?”

Richtor's reply was swift. “Nope, nothing. Drone didn’t pick anything up either. I think we’re in the safe.”

“Stay that way. And thanks for looking out for her.”

Richtor’s text carried a warmth that was 100% Richtor. “Of course. She’s our one and only mother. Though… I’m not sure we’ll be of much use if anyone actually tries to get to her.”

It was no surprise that Richtor still underestimated his own strength. After the trials his team had endured together, their bravery and synergy could easily humble a martial expert, internal force or not; they just didn’t realize it yet. 

“You’ll do fine. I have faith in you.” With his worries eased, Raine was able to focus fully on the many tasks awaiting him. The ride up felt interminable, his thoughts already kilometers deep into ZionLine. He hurried back to Mel's empty room. Rather than wait for him to wake up after the tempering, she had gone to Pamalaiha's room, where the two entered ZionLine together. Mel had been quite insistent on guiding the doctor through the basics.

Settling in, Raine strapped on his headset, the familiar hum pulling him under. The world inverted through a starlit tunnel that rushed by before blossoming into Vaateaire. Almost before reality reformed around him, a Return Stone was bringing him to the Nobles' quarter. He darted from shop to shop, spending nearly two million gold in minutes. He barely dented the surface of all the items and trade goods available.

First and foremost, his goal was to clean out the available building materials he hadn't been able to buy before. Any guild that desired to construct Traveler-owned structures in the region would now have to go through him. The return on his investment wouldn't come right away, but when it did, the payout would be gargantuan.

Leaving enough funds for his other plans, Raine teleported to Mirror Lake Town's bustling square. The deep darkness of a chilly night masked the open sky. Crisp lake air entered his lungs, mingling with the hubbub from thousands of shouting mouths. The lively atmosphere was a stark contrast to Belehorn Tower’s stifling, emergency-powered ambiance.

Raine took to the air, hopping to the town's edge and beyond. Origin Towns were the least policed, and with his noble’s status, none would dare attempt to accost him for such a minor infraction. He flew unspotted over Celeste and Rhino as they orchestrated the flood of eagerly returning recruits. Seventeen thousand souls—including Ronexzera's people—needed relocation to the nearest beginner town, where they could take advantage of amenities to relax until the siege was over. The plan was to travel in two waves, seventy-five hundred each, for manageability.

He continued to dash across fields overflowing with wolves and into the deep shadows of the surrounding forest. He quickly found Melbelle and Pamalaiha—now Vendarkin. The ninja wore beginner equipment and was already level one. Her short blade moved with surgical precision, snaking out in lethal sweeps as she rapidly dissected two higher-level boars. The creatures didn’t stand a chance, not even coming close to harming her as she chipped away at their health.

Pamalaiha's focus was absolute, her mind a laser of pinpointed ambition that sharpened with each flesh-splitting cut.

[I must catch up. No, surpass. Faster. Stronger. Unbreakable. Worthy, of him.]

Mel spotted him first, her eyes lit up, and she waved with both arms above her head, drawing the doctor's attention. When Raine alighted beside Mel, she moved to hug him, then stopped, remembering where they were. Coughing lightly into a fist, she struck an annoyed pose. “I don’t get this at all! No matter what I try, my skills won’t activate! Have you figured it out yet?” The question was innocent enough, but the tone and twinkle in her eyes gave away that she knew he already had.

Raine crossed his arms with a teasing smirk. “Underestimating me again?”

Mel clasped her hands together which had a pronounced effect on her figure. She pleaded with wide, blinking eyes. “Never! I swear. So… please help?”

He shook his head, glancing at Pamalaiha finishing her kill and padding in their direction. “Nope. I’ll go over how it's done once everyone’s together.”

Her arms hung at her sides in mock defeat. “Boo. Fine.”

Upon reaching Alaric, Vandarkin immediately dropped to one knee, head lowered. Her avatar perfectly matched her real-world body and face, right down to her thick eyebrows and too-kissable lips; she hadn't tried at all to hide who she was. In this case, Raine didn’t mind one bit.

Her voice and thick accent were also the same. “I greet you, Master.”

“In ZL, you will refer to me as Alaric. No kneeling, no bowing.” Understanding his meaning right away, she stood and nodded. “How did you recognize me?” He wondered aloud.

She didn't hesitate, answering with sincerity. “Those eyes belong to only one man. And, you have an… unmistakable intensity that matches your mental signature.”

Raine’s brows rose as he pored over her words.

Mental signature? Interesting. Guess I won’t be able to conceal my identity as well as I thought. And apparently, my ability to sense intent is still lacking if I can’t pick out individuals by feel. Still so much to learn. I'll question her more when we're on the road.

[I hear him here as well… Intriguing.]

“Alaric.” She forced the name through her lips, face twisting in a grimace. “I completed the changes to my contract.” After speaking, she remained frozen, unable to take the next breath in fear that he may change his mind and deny her. Updating the contract was the only thing that may keep her alive if ever their secret was revealed.

"Go ahead,” he prompted with a nod, and she flicked the new document his way. “I'll review it on the road. Let's go. You lead.”

Pamalaiha rose, blade grasped tight in her fingers. “As you wish... Alaric.” She turned and pressed deeper into the forest, Mel and Raine trailing behind. 

“Any issues?” He asked Mel, not bothering to lower his voice.

“As if. She’s scarier than the monsters. Don’t even know why I’m here. Definitely not needed. Not that I can heal right now, anyway.” She stuck out her tongue.

“If you’re not needed, then isn’t that the perfect chance to learn? An ancient martial stance is being performed right in front of you. I hope you've been taking notes.”

Mel smacked herself on the forehead, “I’m such a goof! You’re right.” Instead of hanging back and messing around with skills that failed to trigger, Mel followed more closely, eyes drilling into Pamalaiha, shamelessly attempting to pick apart her form and learn everything she could from the skilled martial expert.

Pamalaiha made no effort to conceal her skills as she left a trail of felled beasts leading in the general direction of the witch's hut. They adopted an easy silence interspersed by Mel’s feminine gasps whenever Pamalaiha performed a particularly stunning evasion or counter. At the hut, she claimed her first quest, eyes gleaming with excitement at the novelties of this new world. 

Word arrived from Celeste—the first group was fully assembled, ready to march. They doubled back to town, the ninja once more cutting them a bloody path.

Outside Mirror Lake, half of Astra Infernum waited. Fizgore, bare-chested as always, roared with laughter. Men and women alike swooned from his raw charisma. Rhino’s youthful voice barked orders at Raine’s approach, calling for silence. Mel bounced on her heels, following close behind. Pamalaiha was their silent shadow, with darting eyes that never remained in one place for long. Richtor's team was clustered together, pointing and snickering at a nearby solo Traveler dying to a level 1 wolf.

Raine recognized the general air of spirits that couldn’t be quelled, and knew it came from selling gold on the exchange. His core members especially were well compensated. Turning those few gold into enough credits to live comfortably for years had to feel amazing.

Celeste waited at the front of the gathered recruits. Adorably, her father was tucked into the ranks, standing at attention and looking at his little girl like she was a bona fide princess. She bristled at the sight of Pamalaiha next to Raine. A low growl rumbled in her throat before she clamped it down with a sharp exhale. Raine glanced between them, confused.

I thought they would be getting along better after working together all night. Odd. Wonder what happened.

Celeste wanted to spit as Raine, in a show of pure control that was still beyond her, lifted himself into the air with Connection alone. Every eye followed him up, mouths falling open. “Thank you for gathering, and for persisting in Astra Infernum despite the challenges you’ve faced to date. I won’t lie; it's about to get much harder. I’m going to push you until you wish for death.” 

Raine didn’t let their melancholy stew. He pointed northwest, down the nearby dirt road. “Those who make it to the end of this road will have earned the right to be trained. This is your final test. After today, you will no longer be a recruit; you will be a regular. As per your contracts, your pay and benefits will double, and the path to becoming a true martial will open before you. Whether you take that first step or not... is entirely up to you.”

Rejected by the clans, abandoned by society, these were people who had lived their entire lives with society’s boot on their necks, holding their faces in the poverty-stricken mud. Finally, their day to break free had come. With one little test, they would become real martials. Their roar was a thunderous vow that shattered the night, letting the whole world know what they thought of Raine’s offer.