Chapter 357 - Far Future Ch. 67 – One Cyborg’s Fate (1/2)

The tube lifted me up smoothly to the Arena floor. The roar of the crowd washed over me, enthusiastic and bloodthirsty, looking to see some machine-men blowing one another apart.

They kind of broke and faltered when I was revealed there. Mask covering half my face, golden skin and hair, the blue-black of my Brand on my face... it didn't take them long to Boole me and find out who Buzzcutter's mystery opponent was.

The Golden Hag! His datafeed naturally dumped the information to him, and his face was somewhat consternated. He was supposed to be fighting another cyborg, not a bladebelle!

Of course, he was reassured by the fact that I had never been seen to use any kind of psionics when I fought. I was fast, abominably tough, and I cut enemies down with a mindblade... albeit one that could cleave durasteel like cheese.

Chalice slid down into my hand, and my soulblade slid out.

One, two, three, four Stars lit up on the blade. Two Suns began to swirl up the length of it continuously. The solid line of light in the center of it meant a Star Core.

Hard golden light slid into place around it, then crackling solid electricity of reddish hue. This red lightning seemed to shimmer and seethe inside the length of the blade, and his augmented eyes flashed all kinds of dire warnings to him looking at it.

Yeah, a Bane/Constructs Sundering Breaking effect is really, really hostile to cyborgs. It's why they were so afraid of Briggs' Hammer, Beat.

The timer seemed to pause, waiting for any quips to start the show.

”Why are you here?” he had to ask, as his stubbers came down and began to rotate.

”Because the Coronals wouldn't ever bother to come, the bladeboys think you are an idiot, and someone asked it as a favor,” I replied smoothly. ”Let's see just how much better arena gladiators are then Warp-crazed Cyberheads, shall we?”

Beep, beep, beep!

His guns started, and the mist grenade under my foot hit the ground.

Psi-tech instantly transmuted hydrogen and oxygen in the air around to mist, charging it with reflective ambient energy. It wasn't a wave; very abruptly, everything centered sixty feet in front of me was occluded by mist.

I heard his jetpack ignite as I put my foot down, and his anti-grav failed him, meaning he didn't get off the ground with that mecha-harness he was driving, which kind of shocked him. I ghosted left and right as wild shots sprayed in all directions, sliding between the bullets which bent away as they approached me, and even as he retreated smoothly to gain more distance, another grenade poofed off, and another, chasing after him.

He had no idea where I was, his systems weren't registering me, and he couldn't see me, either. He didn't know how quickly I was moving, only that I was driving him back across the arena as fast as he could scramble, shooting at nothing, and knowing he had to stay out of reach of my sword.

Alas, I moved forwards much faster than he could retreat.

I came out of the mist thirty yards from him as he was trying to lateral, and instead was moving right into me. His guns snapped around, trying to track me, unable to get a lock. He tried tangling wire, which I carved through as it slid off me, and gas grenades of his own, which I just ignored. Desperately, he tried an almost point-blank detonation of rockets, aiming for the shockwave to drive me back... and I cut apart three in the air, shredding them before they could explode, and was suddenly in his face, even as his whirling blade-arms tried to pincer me in.

Chalice Sang, the sharp notes of her edge accented by the sheering protests of severed steel. Arm One. Arm two. Leg one, leg two. Primary power core undefended as he falls.

Arcs of golden light flared and died, crisscrossing faster than the eye, looking like a golden flower frozen in a moment of death, crawling red lightning dancing around it and over the cyborg in front of me as he hit the ground and his weapon systems died.

Five Sun Strikes...

He quivered and jerked as the feedback from the effects danced through his systems. Circuits flared and died, insulation burned, delicate soldering and metals melted to slag.

He stared at me as I presented the tip of Chalice and her very ominous, rising and falling hum, to his nose. He didn't have a lot of meat left, but it was enough to sweat.

”Fog and a sword beats an arena mech-handler. I admit to being very unimpressed, Master Buzzcutter.” His square-pupiled, mechanical eyes were fixed on the very, very, VERY dangerous point of my Sword. ”Tell me, Master Buzzcutter, who are the Coronal Knights?”

”The Coronal Knights?” he repeated in surprise.

”I see you have heard of them. Who are they?” I asked condescendingly.

”They, they are the defenders of Humanity!” he managed to get out. Every child knew that, even if they became a cyborg.

”And where do they defend us, Master Buzzcutter?” I went on loftily.

”Where, wherever the enemies of Man can be found!” he blurted out, nicely indoctrinated as a child, even if he didn't believe it.

”So, not in an arena?” I mused aloud, waving Chalice closer. It didn't touch him, but the circuits on his face were already peeling back from the force.

”N-no...” he managed.

”Not on some makenews pretending to be an expert on military tactics and combats involving psi and mechs?” I went on primly.

”N-no...” he swallowed, finally realizing his big mouth had gotten him into a lot of trouble.

”Now, I had it in my head that the Coronal Duke would set aside his cape, put on a mask, pretend to be a bladeboy, walk out into this arena, clench his fist, and kill you right there. Then he'd make some inane comment about how arena mech-users don't know how to really fight.