noffsinger Chapter 697 - 616
Chapter 697 - 616
I came back to the yard where the others were.
Brunnhilde came back too, but it looked like she stopped along the way and was carrying a few more bottles with her.
I had the urge to activate my circuits right here and now.
But I knew that would be foolish at this juncture. While I was healed significantly, I wasn’t back to 100%, but I estimated it wouldn’t be very long now, maybe a day or two.
That is, if I were to ignore the thing on my neck, which is still an issue.
It was still stopping me from ’refilling’ properly.
It was like if someone drilled a hole into a cup on the side, just as close to the bottom as they could. All the liquid would leak out, and I would be left with the tiniest bit just at the very bottom under the hole.
The good news is I could manage to use my ring now again. The bad news is I feel like the collar would activate and send some painful pulses through my body if it thought I was doing something wrong.
Clint looked like he was practicing his archery with a target set up, a bow in hand, and probably a few dozen arrows sticking out of the target.
He noticed me coming over as he finished another shot. "You look a lot better."
"My beautiful hair is untouched; it does wonders for one’s stress level." I flung my long hair backwards to emphasize how luscious and bouncy it was.
"I was looking forward to seeing what it looked like cut off."
"Those are some blasphemous words, Mr. Clarton." No one touches the hair.
He paused and blinked. "I forgot what name you used; I was going to make a joke."
"Kurosaki Ichigo!"
"I feel like I heard that name before. Wait, isn’t that the name you used when you got arrested by Shield? I’m pretty sure that was in your file." He looked at me.
I don’t know why, but it gave me just a happy feeling in my chest.
I didn’t even hate Ichigo.
Hell, I didn’t even dislike him in nearly any aspect. Sure, he’s a bit of an idiot, but he’s what, sixteen, maybe not even that? Kids are dumb, but he also had a good head on his shoulders.
All in all, he’s actually a good kid.
But also, I regret nothing.
It’s not like the whole Soul Society thing where it’ll blow up in my face because he thinks it’s a good idea to fucking invade the afterlife.
"I feel like there’s some poor schmuck out there that’s going to get beamed up from his backyard by some aliens in the future thinking they’re you."
...I should probably check that there isn’t a Kurosaki Ichigo around these parts.
It’s...highly unlikely; it’s not a very common name.
But anyway.
"We haven’t known each other for long, have we?"
Clint let out a sigh. "It’s been what, days? It’s hard to keep track of a timeline. But it feels like a long time."
"I was put into an arena, collared, and told to fight for my life as a slave. Now, we’re supposed to train for another fight with our lives on the line."
My anger that I had been holding back, well, I suddenly had a way to let some of it out.
"Clint, I’m really fucking angry."
He was much more composed. I couldn’t match him when it came to keeping his cool, to not showing emotion. The legacy of a military career, I would presume, but it seemed to be let go in this moment. "I have a wife and a daughter back home. I’m also really fucking angry."
For me, I get myself into weird situations. I travel to other worlds all the time, so in a way, I was used to this.
This was new to him; this was his first time being whisked away from his home planet.
I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling right now.
Thoughts in the back of his head that he would never see his family again?
"First off, let’s see about getting these bombs off, or at least— "
"Did someone say bomb?" Our little bug friend popped his head up between us. "I have extensive knowledge of bombs."
"We’re –"
"Would you like to see?" He held up his bomb bracelet. As in, he had already taken it off and was waving it around. "I am very skilled, yes?"
What the fuck did he get kicked off his planet for?
"Do you think you could disarm all our bombs...please?" Clint snapped back to focus rather quickly, immediately asking the most pertinent question.
"Oh yes, very easy." He started to mess with Clint’s bomb too, his sharp hands, mandibles, and claws seemingly could get into the deep places on the device.
I realized that the bombs were significantly less...advanced? Less sophisticated compared to the collars on our necks.
"Completed!" He held up Clint’s bomb that came off him with a click. "Acquired two explosives, double!"
"Me next, please." I held mine out for him to easily access.
He went right to it.
Competent friends are always such a nice thing.
Funnily, Brunnhilde was just watching from the side, barely batting an eye as we quite literally get free from our ’chains.’ One of them, anyways; the collar was still present.
"Can you do mine too...please?" Aquamarine approached us.
She was usually much more standoffish, so it was surprising to see her sound so humble.
"Yes, yes, more bombs, more better." He didn’t even bat an eye as he went to work on hers.
"So what’s your story, princess?" I took this opportunity to ask. "’Accidentally’ ending up on Sakaar, huh?" She gave some bullshit story before.
I mean, so did we. But still, I was slightly curious.
She scrunched her nose, clearly showing some annoyance. There was a moment where she probably considered just telling me to fuck off and turning away. "I was crown princess—my world is led by a queen. My mother had just passed the crown to me days prior when my sister led a coup while I was returning home. It would have succeeded if she had captured or killed me. I barely managed to escape when my ship got damaged and I crashed onto this world."
"Are your people looking for you?" Clint asked.
"They probably know where I am. However, one does not easily arrive nor escape from Sakaar." She drawled.
"Out of curiosity, can I ask about your name? Aquamarine is...unique." I asked, trying to appear more friendly.
"It’s tradition for the royal family to be named after a color." She smiled faintly with a hint of warmth in her eyes. "It was my grandmother’s favorite color."
Our Valkyrie keeper said something similar.
You can’t enter or leave Sakaar through normal means.
"Hypothetically speaking, do you think your people would be waiting for you? A fleet above the planet, looking for an opportunity?"
She considered it. "Mayhaps. I know a great many peoples watch the planet of Sakaar from a distance, unable to intervene. My sister’s coup was destined to fail once she failed to capture me or kill me. My other would have resumed control until I could return, or in the worst case, another of my sisters would assume charge if it were impossible."
"So there’s a possibility of a fleet of ships waiting outside the planet, looking for an opportunity to rescue you?" I summarized. "Well then, it seems we have the makings of a plan." I clapped my hands.
"Plan, what plan?" She asked in confusion.
"For our escape, of course," I said cheerfully. "That is, if our trainer wants to join us."
I’ll be honest, the thought of just grabbing Clint and going home as soon as possible was looking very appealing. But on the other hand, I was very angry and I despised slavery.
Brunnhilde, who had been quietly drinking a bit away, had paused. I knew she was listening this whole time.
A moment later a bottle flew past my head.
"What makes you think I would help you all, huh? I got a good gig going on. I bring in a few fighters, I get paid, and then I buy something good to drink." She responded.
"I can remove the wormholes in the sky," I said plainly. "You said they were acting like a shield; I can remove them."
She immediately went silent, staring at me as if to see if I was lying or not. "That’s a bold thing to say." She clicked her tongue. "Do you think you’re the one-eyed old man?"
I tilted my head.
[Ah, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?] Musu Tengai’s voice carried with it just a smidgen of smugness. [You’ve held back for long enough; just don’t overdo it.]
My soul was healed enough now.
My spiritual pressure was released.
It wasn’t the release of power in the strictest sense, but even so, I was careful enough to not trigger the collar on my neck.
But even so...
Her eyes widened, and her legs trembled as the pressure descended.
I didn’t let up until she finally was pushed to the ground. As soon as her knee hit the dirt, the pressure disappeared.
I wasn’t one to show off this way. I didn’t demand people bow before me; I didn’t release my power for others to worship my every step.
But sometimes, you just need to show people where you really stand.
Did I think this was enough to earn her trust or respect? Maybe, but probably not.
I could get a good enough read on her; she wasn’t that complicated. She was very cynical, depressed probably, and she had no direction in life right now. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had resigned herself to eventually die on this world eventually.
But at the very least, I think he’s pragmatic. So she might follow along for now and see if there’s really a chance.
Musu Tengai.
[I’m here.]
How much magical energy do you think I can manage under these conditions?
[Enough.]
When you get good enough, you don’t need such an...explicit mental trigger for your magical circuits. Like a reflex almost, if you work on it enough, you can turn them on or off with a thought. Usually, it takes years, if not decades.
I suppose it does require a hint of talent as well.
I didn’t have a mental trigger.
I never needed one when I woke up. I carried along with me the same sort of mental mannerisms from my past life.
A significant amount of spellcasting is a mental aspect. Belief in yourself, belief in the process, and things along those lines.
I had absolute belief I could activate my circuits, and they responded.
Well, I suppose I was going back to basics here. Like starting a car, turning your circuits on did require a bit of magical energy, like how a car needs gas.
Doing so by skipping things like self-hypnosis or a mental command added to that, if barely.
My mind immediately went to the image of a full-body mirror where I looked at myself. I pressed a hand against it and shattered it as it cut into my skin.
"Shatter." I whispered under my breath, clutching onto that image, the shocking feeling, and the quick beat of my heart, and my circuits ignited.
The magical energy wasn’t flowing out. I had seen many different ways across various worlds in how people handle magical energy. In Remnant, it’s like a pool inside them that constantly sucks in the surrounding mana. On Earth, where Campione and heretic gods run around, it’s filtered through conceptual means of stories, myths, and legends. In my birth world, magicians slowly build up a pool similar to those of Remnant, except they don’t have the benefit of a constant stream.
Even in the world where Kunou is learning, they have a sort of core that filters magical energy constantly.
Each method had its pros and cons.
Magical Circuits: They were probably on the lowest end when it came to utilizing quantities of magical energy.
However, they shined above all others when it came to control.
If you could numerically conceptualize every unit of magical energy into an itemized variable, then magical circuits were the best at never wasting a single unit with enough training.
That’s what my circuits were doing right now.
The tiniest bit of magical energy I had available, it wasn’t letting any go to waste; it was clamping down tightly on every unit of magical energy enough that it didn’t leak out, that it didn’t trigger the collar around my neck.
A single unit, two units, if going by that same numerical concept, well, that was all I needed.
I touched my ring, and it opened up to me, and I finally felt like I was back, like something was missing from me.
Was it my demonic nature or my dragon nature? Hell, it could have simply been my greedy human nature. But I despised not having access to my stuff, my treasures.
And of course,
I took out Sir Wiggles and held him in my arms.
Welcome back, buddy.
Ah.
They were looking at me strangely.
Where did that rabbit come from?
Except for Brunnhilde.
She had recovered from my little show. But now she was staring at my rabbit; her mouth was hanging open in disbelief.
Heh.
Works every time.
"I have some...ideas on where to go from here." I said calmly.
[Line Break]
Brunnhilde, Scrapper 142 POV
Stupid, this is so stupid.
Why am I doing this?
It’s utterly pointless.
Getting my hopes up, what’s the point? It’s the same thing every time. Does he think that no one else has ever tried to overthrow the Grandmaster? That no one else has ever tried to rebell or escape?
It goes the same way every time.
I only took this job on a whim. The pay was going to be good enough that I could drown myself for probably a few more years before I had to start working again.
They didn’t even need to win.
Make them good enough to give a good show. Make it so they die in a way that pleases the Grandmaster.
Simple and easy.
Of course everything went to pot.
Of course I had to run into someone from back home. They may as well be from my homeland with how much we were in Midgard protecting it from invaders.
I pulled a console device out of the way, carefully. Then I hid one of those pieces of paper that scrawny brat gave.
What did he call it, a talisman?
It must be magic from another pantheon. I think I recognized it; I don’t know. My memories blurred together after so long.
I could at least feel the magic on it. It was somewhat similar to Runic language. I was never very good at magic as it was.
I walked to the other side of the room, getting on my knees and looking under a hover-carrier for moving equipment.
I slapped it onto the bottom, underneath, and smoothed it out. With a look around, I made sure no one saw and got up and went further into the building.
Why am I doing this?
Basically planting bombs all over the Grandmaster’s building, his tower that overlooks the entire city.
Those are the first six floors done.
Only a bajillion more to go.
I should have kicked his ass harder. He has such a punchable face, and for some reason I feel like he really deserves to be punched in his stupid punchable face.
I slid into the kitchen.
"Don’t mind if I do." I opened the fridge and took out the chilled wine. "From a Kree Garden World? Very nice." I pulled the top off and settled down as I took a seat and enjoyed the treat.
Kree has some of the best wine.
Well, their conquered worlds do.
I miss Asgardian Mead.
The taste of honey was the best part, and I haven’t been able to find a replacement. Damn Grandmaster, he said he had a casket of the stuff in his personal storage, but I’ve never been able to get a taste of it.
Just for that alone, he deserves a kick in the balls.
I tossed the now-empty bottle into the sink and found a good spot to put another one of these magical thingy-doos.
Heh, I’ll put some under the toilets too.
I might have felt bad if everyone in this place weren’t worth the shit on my boots. The idiots here think that just because they have their own slaves, they aren’t slaves themselves.
Even the cooks, the janitors, the people who wipe the Grandmaster’s ass after he takes a shit—they all think they’re so much better than everyone else below in the city.
The faces they make when he inevitably orders a purge out of boredom are always fun to watch.
I don’t even remember how long ago it was that he got drunk and angrily ordered the execution of every cook in this place because none of them had tried to poison him.
To say he had a screw loose was...generous.
Thankfully most of the floors of this place weren’t actually occupied. Most of them just had random junk that the Grandmaster had collected over the years.
Some neat toys, but otherwise, just trash.
I went around putting these pieces of paper everywhere before I finally made my way up to the top floors.
This was the easy part.
I made it to the Grandmaster’s...observatory.
At least, that’s what he had been calling it lately. His lounge/office/meeting room. It had a big window that overlooked the large city below.
"Oh, 142!" Grandmaster noticed me immediately. "Topaz, look, it’s 142!"
"I see." The woman answered clearly, not pleased with my presence.
I never knew what her problem was.
I wonder if she knows that I could punch her head off.
Stupid mortal thinks she’s important just because the Grandmaster treats her like his right hand. He only does that because he thinks it’s funny when trash like her commands everyone else.
I put on my best smile, cocking my hips. "Hey there, boss."
"Hey there, 142~" He cooed right back at me.
Ugh.
"So, 142, what brings you all the way up here? Hmm? Wait, I think I ordered all the trainers to give a report hours ago." He tapped his chin.
"You are correct. Scrapper-142 was absent and disobeyed your order." Topaz interjected. "Should I use the stick, sir?"
"Woah, Topaz! No need to get...sticky." He grinned at his own joke. "I’m sure 142 has a good reason, right 142?"
The mortal glared at me, but I just rolled my eyes.
Thankfully, I already prepared for this.
As easygoing as he is, he doesn’t like being...disobeyed. But he’s more than willing to look the other way if you give him any good reason.
I continued to smile. "I was busy doing my job, sir."
"Everyone else did their jobs and were here on time." Topaz retorted.
He didn’t interject; he was wanting to watch us argue.
"And one of my fighters told me a little secret."
"A secret?" Grandmaster’s eyes sparkled. "Do tell; I love secrets. Don’t I love secrets, Topaz? Whenever I hear a good secret, I can’t help but share it with everyone so they can enjoy it too."
I reached into the bag I had on my back. "He told me that his ship was carrying something pretty good, so I just had to go find it for myself. Unfortunately, when it crashed on the planet, only this bottle survived. But I figured you would enjoy a bottle of alcohol from a planet that’s mostly undiscovered."
His playfulness changed completely, turning into desire. "Oh 142!" He clutched his heart. "You know me so well. I will gladly accept this gift."
Well, I’m off the hook.
And even if it’s utter shit, he will enjoy it for the novelty.
Drinking, fighting, and women—that’s basically how he passes the time.
Any one of those that show any kind of novelty, he jumps right on it.
That scrawny brat should be lucky I didn’t drink it on the way here. Though, he probably has more of it stored away in his little pocket dimension.
Cheeky brat, I didn’t pay much attention to that ring on his finger.
I could have taken it and be set for life.
I shot a smug look at Topaz and walked over to him, handing it to him, and he cradled it like it was a treasure. I put my hands on his shoulders, rubbing them affectionately.
Bleh.
"What planet was this from again?"
"I think they said dirt?" I acted confused too.
He scrunched his nose. "Oh well, can’t do much about their naming sense. But what matters is the taste. Topaz, go get me a few glasses. Good ones, not too good. Right in the middle, elegant but tasteful."
"Right away, sir." She drawled as she left.
I leaned against the sofa he was sitting on, taking this opportunity to sneak a Talisman under it.
Then I went to walk around his room, acting like I was looking at his decor.
He barely spared me a glance as I took that opportunity to put more of these pieces of paper hidden all around.
That’s when I spotted a certain object.
It was mounted on the wall, blue, had a faint chilly air to it, and had a black handle.
Was this his sword?
I only saw it at a distance before and only remembered it because I noticed the magic. I hadn’t really cared beyond that and wouldn’t have taken a second glance had it not been brought up again.
"New toy?" I asked.
"Oh, yes!" He turned around. "Very nice, don’t you think? I was going to use it as a cane and get a good sheath for it; it goes splendidly with my hair. But the little bauble in the hilt is the real prize."
"The hilt?" he didn’t even care that I picked it up. "Hmm, good sword."
"Big praise coming from 142!" He grinned but was mostly focused on the bottle. "Hmm, the little orb. I wasn’t able to analyze it completely; even my toys couldn’t delve too deeply into it. I was thinking about trading it to the collector and settling some of my debts."
I put the sword back for now, not wanting to raise suspicion.
Topaz walked back into the room, holding two glasses, one of them clearly worse than the other.
It’s not surprising which one she forced into my hands.
"Come on, 142, share a glass with me!" He uncorked the bottle, pouring for himself first, then I joined him as he partially filled my glass.
He swirled it in front of his nose, taking a deep breath, then tasted it. "Oh. Oh!" His eyes lit up. "That’s good. It has a subtle but bitter aftertaste that pairs well with the initial sweetness. It leaves a lingering feeling of satisfaction that would make an excellent palate cleanser between meal courses."
I just drank mine down.
Made from grapes. I wasn’t some connoisseur, but it was...nostalgic. I hadn’t had any grape-based wine in a very long time.
They were originally from Midgard, but Asgard happily took some back and grew them as well.
"I’m glad you like it, sir." I forced a smile, staring at my glass.
It brought back memories I hadn’t thought about for a very long time.
"How are your fighters, 142?" The Grandmaster let out a satisfied sigh after his drink. "We need a good turnout. Everyone was so confident, so I’m going to make sure to promote it all. I even have sponsors lined up, advertisements!" He held his hands up. "I’m going to have my ships up above the arena with big advertisements across them; the cameras will pan to them between matches."
I looked down at my glass again, feeling a foreign feeling in my chest. "I think it’ll be a great show, sir."
He smiled. "That’s what I like to hear."
[Line Break]
Clint Barton POV
Alright Clint, you can do this.
It’s just a bunch of people...aliens, but still people.
Is that the right word?
Will aliens get offended if I call them people?
"People" is a broad term for a person... "person" doesn’t mean just human, does it?
I don’t think my high school education prepared me for this.
I messed with the new ring on my finger.
Makes you stronger, he said. I wish I asked him what that meant. I have so many questions now that my brain has caught up.
Always happy to have a Wizard added to the party, but I’m just a poor ranger over here sitting at level one.
Alright, stick to the plan. Can’t show any weakness. It’s like prison, right? Walk up, punch the biggest guy, and then you’re the new king of the block.
Sure, that’s just an urban legend, and it would end with you getting your ass kicked, but it has to have some basis in reality, right?
Think of Laura and the kids.
Heh, I only said I had one girl, never mentioned a son. Put that big-brain shield training to work.
I let out a breath, doing what I always do when I am anxious before a mission.
Repeat the mission parameters over and over.
Find the other fighters, disarm their bombs, and earn their loyalty.
Princess was given some weird alien device by our ’trainer’ to try and contact her people outside the planet.
And our ’trainer’ was planting bombs in various places.
Magic bombs.
But bombs nonetheless.
"Come on, Vernat, let’s go make some friends." I pat my bug companion on the back...carapace.
"Excellent, friends are great!" He waved his arms happily.
Well, someone is excited at least.
You would think they’d segregate everyone. They basically told us all that we would be fighting to the death, even if not directly. Logically, it would make our odds higher if we sabotaged the others. Find the weakest link in their team, kill them, and the others will blow up.
That can’t have been overlooked, right?
I was never the sharpest arrow in the quiver, but even I can see the obvious here.
Unless that’s what they want.
Survival of the fittest?
Apparently every team had their own little training yard, but it all connected to the main training area where the older fighters hung out.
Alright, avoid the big guys that look like they could quite literally tear me in half.
Instead, focus on the big guy I could spy that had four arms, arms bigger than my legs, and looked like he could also tear me in half.
I walked openly; hands could be seen, dagger hidden under my sleeve.
They saw me walking over; now just be careful, talk calmly, and—
"Greetings, friends! Vernat ran over. "I am here to assist you!"
Oh god dammit.
They immediately looked like they were ready for a fight. I couldn’t fault them; another guy comes running at them, acting crazy, and they know about the bombs too.
The big four-armed guy smacked Vernat away...easily.
His teammates, all relatively big guys. One looked like it was made of stone, all grey-like, missing an eye. Another had a hunched back, but there were spikes protruding from it, almost like bones. The last was a lankier guy, probably two feet taller than me, but his arms were much longer, almost touching the ground from that height.
All vaguely humanoid too, which...I’ll process later.
Vernat didn’t look too hurt; he rolled into a ball shape right before he got hit. As an insect, his outer shell should be quite sturdy, right?
"You got some nerve!" The big four-armed guy cracked his fists.
He was menacing. Don’t think his species had hair from what I could tell, and his skin was tinged red.
"Woah woah." I held my hands up. "It’s a misunderstanding; we’re not here to fight."
He spat onto the ground; it was also red. "Yeah right, runt. But who cares? If you’re gone, that’s one less bug I have to step on."
Ah, I guess they realized that too.
Less competition for first place.
"Come on, at least hear what I have to say first," I asked, pleaded really.
"Talk to my fist!"
I let out a sigh.
Magic Ring, please work.
Body shape, despite four arms, and physique were vaguely human. He was tensed all over, overexerting his punch; he had no formal training.
He overcommitted, thinking he could turn me into paste with just one punch.
I leaned forward, letting it go over my right shoulder.
He almost stumbled forward before catching himself.
Magic Ring Punch!
I threw a punch at his side, presumably where his kidney should be...hopefully, maybe?
It connected, and I felt something inside of him give way and crack.
He spat out, making a noise that was all too familiar even if he wasn’t human.
He fell to his knees, clutching his side, and I jumped up, wrapping my legs around his neck in a chokehold.
"You bastard!"
"Get him!"
"Tear him apart!"
"Nope! Don’t even think about it!" I took out my dagger and held it to their friend’s throat; they all immediately froze. Good, they weren’t just completely dumb brutes.
The big guy under me didn’t fight too hard now; his eyes refocused, the vile in his throat was pushed back down, and he understood the situation he was in.
Thank you, Magic Ring; I’ll never doubt you again.
That was at least five times as hard as I usually punch, and it didn’t even hurt. Logically, shouldn’t my body have felt the rebound, like exerting strength far above what it’s physically capable of?
Magic bullshit, I guess.
"Vernat, come do your thing!" I called out.
He started to struggle now, and I had trouble holding him. "Stop, stop!" I told him as I squeezed harder, and I could feel him choking.
Vernat got to work, and only seconds later, with a click, it fell off the guy’s arm.
The big guy froze, his eyes barely catching what just happened. I swiftly let go of his neck and slid back, holding my hands up.
He jumped to his feet too, looking panicked and confused.
Slowly, I put down my held hands, and the dagger was put on the ground. They all saw it too, his bomb on the ground now. "Can we talk now?"
They lost all desire to fight; that’s good.
First part of the plan, done.
Now only...how many more teams to go.
[Line Break]
A/N
If you want to read 10 Chapters ahead or support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / astoryforone
I also have a boosty if you can’t use the above under the same name.