Rangers Endgame

Chapter 143: Falling Into Rage

Red pooled at Fuyumi's feet, squeezing her ankles white. Fire clung to beams and crawled over skin, slow and deliberate, savoring the ruin. Homes twisted under it, windows hollowed into empty sockets of nothingness, doorways warping into impossible shapes. Smoke tumbled back to the surface, too thick for the sky to hold.

And the sound.

Not quite animal, but something familiar. Something eager.

Shapes gathered at the edges of periphery, slipping away each time she whipped her head. They began from beyond the homes, then blinked ever closer. The tall, bipedal outlines lurched and shivered from within the heat waves. Their howls threaded through the crackling fire and clawed at her ears.

Another one to her right.

Gone.

One to her left. Closer.

She turned again. Nothing.

The howls distorted.

“Run!”

She tried to flee, but the crimson tar rooted her in place, swallowing her calves. Heat pressed against her. She swiveled to keep the creatures at bay, but this only made them close the distance faster.

The ensnaring blood writhed and squirmed, tendrils boiling up to seize her. Limbs squelched against her skin to pull her under. She fought, but their grip tightened.

They buried her torso. A tendril latched to her neck, and her head swam. She tried to scream, but no sound came.

“Run, Fuyumi!” The voice shrieked from just outside of view.

With all her might, she twisted her submerging neck to look back. Her blood ran cold.

Just within reality stood a muscular frame, limbs bent a little too far. A sickening grin, exposing far too many dagger-like teeth, tore its muzzle in two. A burn scar ran over its eye.

“Run, Fuyumi!” It repeated, wearing her mother's voice mockingly.

The world turned hazy.

Then black. Silence rushed in.

She rocketed upright from her mattress with strangled breath, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Her sheets, damp with sweat, twisted between her fingers as she gulped down air, grateful for the blessed absence of smoke. Her legs and wrists still throbbed with the tendrils’ iron grip. Morning sprinkled through the window, casting gentle reassurance upon her. The phantom howls clinging stubbornly to her senses faded, replaced by the tavern settling and soft murmur of voices beyond her room.

A light knock came, the door opening without waiting for an answer. Risa poked her head inside, mascara masterfully reapplied.

“Hey, you’re finally up. The tavern will be wrapping up breakfast soon,” she advised, noticing the sweat on her forehead and the lingering quivers in her hand. “Is something troubling you?”

“I’m fine,” Fuyumi denied, wiping her forehead.

“If you say so,” she said, unconvinced. “The guard returned our coats. I hung yours in the closet. Come grab something before it’s too late. We’ll wait for you by the gate.” She left with a soft click.

Fuyumi gave herself more time for her nerves to settle. When they were manageable, she took ten minutes to tidy herself and gather her things. Daggers equipped and her coat wrapped around her, she stepped into the busy lobby.

Waiters and waitresses balanced trays with practiced hands as they effortlessly navigated the occupied tables. It didn’t take long to spot Takahiro, waiting. She moved between tables, using the passing waiters as cover, but it was all for naught. Unfortunately, as if he’d sensed her presence, it didn’t take long for Takahiro’s eyes to meet hers.

Bubbling annoyance and churning repugnance clashed in her chest as he stood to approach, already smiling. He stepped in her path and bowed with a flourish.

“Our dazzling sun has alas risen.”

She didn’t answer, her eyes moving past him towards the table.

No…

A cloth—she hadn’t the slightest idea where he’d found it—draped over the scarred wood, an absurdly pristine white. Polished cups replaced tankards. A careful arrangement of fruit, bread, and something that might have been eggs, that were rearranged into something far too deliberate. A wilting flower, the color of her eyes, leaned sideways in a mug.

He followed her gaze and shamelessly flashed a proud smile. “Yours truly has taken the liberty of preparing breakfast. A rarity such as yourself should be welcomed by something more refined.”

She stared at the table a moment longer, ignoring the spectating eyes on her. Not admiration. Not even flattered.

Pure revulsion.

“And,” he added, stepping closer, open hand in invitation. “As it happens, yours truly has not partaken. It would have been such a waste without you across from me.”

‘As it happens… yeah right.’ Her cutting gaze snapped back to him. “You’d better hope you can finish all of it yourself.”

His smile faltered. “Pardon?”

She didn’t repeat herself. Simply walked past him, past the lavish, and picked out her own breakfast from the food bar.

“Next time, then!” he declared, undeterred.

Irritating.

She carried a bag of bread and fruit outside, winter’s embrace immediately wrapping over her. A quiet bench down the road beckoned her, and she sat to eat. The blizzard had cleared overnight. Not completely, but enough to unveil the uniform peaks beyond the settlement’s border.

With a satisfied stomach and tamed nerves, she tossed her bag into a designated trash bin and made her way to the gate. Yakeru and Risa were already there. Risa was actually keeping her polished fingernails to herself for once. Fuyumi leaned against the same wall with Yakeru as he acknowledged her with a nod. He must have sensed something in her body language that even she didn’t notice, because careful concern flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

Yuto arrived next, his ridiculously oversized coat making him stand out amongst the villagers. He gave everyone a simple greeting, then they waited for their last member. It’d been thirty minutes, maybe longer, but Takahiro finally strutted down the road with the confidence of self-proclaimed importance. No matter how much he tried to hide it, his aristocratic mannerism strained against his obviously bloated stomach. Yakeru glanced at it, then back at him.

“How far along are you?” he nonchalantly retorted, Risa stifling her snicker.

Takahiro lifted a finger to strike back with a counter, but doubled over when his stomach squelched from overextension.

“Let’s leave him,” Fuyumi determined.

“‘Tis but a minor inconvenience,” he squeezed out despite his words. “Yours truly shall prevail.”

Yuto helped him upright as two more figures approached them—Chief Zeri and Emi. The child carried over a bag, face angled down to avoid eye contact with them.

Yakeru pushed off the wall. “Chief Zeri,” he greeted.

She simply dipped her head in return. The rangers looked at them, puzzled. Elder Zeri then stepped aside, deliberately exposing Emi. The child shrank instinctively, but the elder urged her forward with a look. Emi’s hands—covered with bandages that hid the scrapes and scratches peaking from underneath—tightened around the bag.

Emi stepped up to Fuyumi and reached inside the bag. Her hand lingered, hesitating, before producing a carefully crafted charm in the shape of a flower—a lunar lilac. She placed it in Fuyumi’s hand, keeping her eyes down.

“It signifies luck,” she murmured, feet shuffling. “I thought you might want to take some with you.”

Fuyumi stared at the charm, something in her chest softening. Then, she slipped it into her pocket, more delicately than she intended. “Thank you.”

Emi finally met her eye, her face lighting. With more courage, she proceeded to pass out the other charms, all intended to be identical, but minor scratches differentiated them.

Yakeru and Yuto accepted theirs with grateful nods.

Risa admired hers like something precious, smiling warmly. “This was very sweet of you. Thank you.”

“Quality truly is born from diligent hands,” Takahiro said, pocketing his charm.

After everyone received their charms, the elder stepped forward. “Now none of you have an excuse to return dinged up.” She gave them all a knowing look.

“We won’t be long,” Yakeru assured, turning to the gate.

His hand went to his sword, securing it for the upcoming trek. Risa smoothed her coat, making sure her outfit remained flawless.

Fuyumi walked towards the gate, not waiting for anyone. “Let’s go. Bloodhounds don’t stay in one place for too long.”

Yakeru marched after her, Risa and the others following suit. The guards wished them luck as they crossed the border.

The air pricked her skin as they began the trudge. Marrow Village shrank behind them, reduced to a cluster of blocks producing smoke trails.

Fuyumi focused on the path ahead—if there was one—her eyes sharp as if the mountain might try to slip away if she didn’t watch close enough. Behind her, the staggered line of rangers tailed her. Steel clanked, leather crunched, breaths heaved.

Yakeru stuck close by, less from companionship and more so to keep an eye on her, but he never said it. Whatever.

The uneventful climb grew more punishing the more gorges they crossed and steep slopes they scaled. The hair on her neck stood when the familiar feeling of distant gazes landed on them. However, without the curtain of a storm, she spotted the frost vestiges fairly quickly.

High above, blue eyes, grotesque forms obscured by jagged shadows. She kept a hand on Armor Killer, and she heard Risa prepare a spell.

Powder drizzled from their perches, claws retracted. The creatures became an afterthought as they merely watched their group move forward without stalling.

As Yuto and Takahiro kept watch, Risa took the time to skim over the map.

“About three more hours, I'd wager,” she informed, slipping it back into her coat.

The wind picked up, taking whispering drafts of snow with it. But not enough to drop visibility to zero. Just enough to turn the world hazy, a nagging inconvenience.

They kept their pace. The blue eyes followed. Even when the mountain provided some cover, they simply observed. Eventually, they began to back off until they broke into a full retreat.

“Okay?” Yuto breathed, raising his shield.

The group slowed as the eyes blinked out like a constellation had been erased.

Even in their absence, the pressure didn’t just remain; it escalated. They weren’t anywhere near the site, but the uncomfortable feeling of familiarity didn’t lie. Yakeru felt it too, his features hardening the same way they did just before combat.

Both of them signalled the others to stop and drew their weapons.

That’s when she saw them.

Not the blue she’d grown accustomed to on this mountain range.

Red.

Too high to belong to a frost vestige.

One pair ahead. Two to the right. Four off to the left atop a ledge.

Then came the howl. Something with far more intent than any frost vestige. Something with a bloodlust that matched her own.

Their tall, bulky silhouettes pressed against the thin sheen of snow until it gave. Fur as dark as charcoal contrasted sharply against the mountain, their muscular builds imposing, bared teeth splitting their maws into sinister grins. Their gait, slow and deliberate, designed to invoke fear, made Risa and her party members take involuntary steps back. But Yakeru and Fuyumi never budged, features steeled, familiar with their tactics.

The raging furnace she’d suppressed until now roared free. Yakeru shouted something to the group, but her body had already moved before conscious thought could instruct.

“Fuyumi, wait!” he warned.

The first bloodhound twitched at her explosive charge, as if startled to see anyone resist their psychological warfare.

Crimson rushed from its forearm, blood hardening into a shield that caught the light as it protected itself. Memories of her previous encounter flashed through her head, and she reacted accordingly.

Everything else fell away behind her, her boots biting into the snow. Daggers infused, she fired a cross projectile. As expected, the beast braced itself, the shield easily absorbing the blast with an eruption of gold. She closed the gap in a blink, arrived at its flank, and sliced two gashes through its achilles tendons with clean efficiency.

It buckled with a howl, but before she could finish it, a crimson blur whipped into her periphery. She twisted away just as a tendril lashed at the air where her head used to be, red spittle smacking her cheek. The bloodhound she’d toppled recovered just enough to warp its shield into its own tendril. With a backflip, she evaded its vengeful attempt to skewer her, and she slid a fair enough distance away, between it and its brethren that had tried to assist it.

Steel clashed, and spells boomed as bloodhounds heedlessly rushed into Risa’s bed of conjured flowers, detonating upon contact and devouring the beasts in viscous amber. The ones smart enough to stand clear lashed out with tendrils, but Yakeru, Yuto, and Takahiro slipped into a wall of deflections and parries to protect her.

Fuyumi refocused her attention on the bloodhounds pinching her. Someone shouted her name, but it hardly registered. They’d be fine. They had Yakeru. Only one thought occupied her mind.

Exterminate.

The bloodhound that was on its feet thrust forward with its tendrils, and she met them head-on. An expert chain of evasions and deflections carried her through its onslaught. Blood cycled into its grip, spiralling into a javelin that lanced through the snow where she once was.

Through the screen of white, her blade struck something that gave. A pained howl later, she fired a jet stream of radiance through it. A deep red, almost black, war hammer punched through the cloud to her left from another bloodhound.

She ducked, allowing it passage. Her radiance faltered in the process, but just enough for the bloodhound to counterattack. The blood gushing from its wound halted, then clamped down on her hand.

The blood snapped outward into a jagged alignment of twisted thorns, gouging deep into her flesh. The hammer whirled back to crush her overhead.

She didn't panic. Didn't give in to fear. With Armor Killer, she simply severed the base of the thorns anchoring her and flipped out of range. The hammer drove heavily into the snow.

The thorns melted into liquid, her trembling hand drenched in red. She didn't process the pain; rage-fueled adrenaline bore the burden.

Another lunge forward carried her to the recovering beast as she aimed for its throat. The cloud cleared to reveal the hammer-wielding bloodhound moving in for another swing.

Too low. She leapt over the head as it undid the snow beneath her. However, the hammer split into razor-thin wires mid-swing to seek her out. Still in midair, she hacked and slashed, but some managed to whip past her blades, scarring armor and slitting skin that lay within the gaps.

Another shout that might've been her name. She pushed on anyway.

She became a flurry of arcing amber, cutting down anything that came within range. Red blurred, skin tore open, crimson snow exploded. Shapes became guesses, and sound came from everywhere at once.

She carved through muscle and moving blood when something she couldn't see smashed into her daggers.

Then the ground disappeared.

Breath left her throat.

No enemies. No voices. Just wind and the fading echoes of battle swallowed by the mountain.