CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
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I
-
Sue!” a faint voice called out raggedly at her feet. “Help me up.”
Seurat had also noticed the strange character closing on them.
“No, you’re in no shape for that. He’s not necessarily our foe. We should assume he’s one of Lord Valcua’s servants.”
Sue was still brainwashed. The young man in silver was crossing the trench the current had carved. It certainly seemed safe to assume anyone who drew breath in Valcua’s domain was one of his vassals.
“He’s not,” Seurat said, but Sue found this denial difficult to accept.
“But he’s—”
“I’ve . . . never seen him before. No one in his service . . . looks like that.”
“That can’t be!” Sue exclaimed, staring stupidly at the man, who’d finished climbing up the plateau to stand before them.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Seurat. His gigantic form had risen to its feet.
The man tilted his head to one side. His demeanor suggested not so much that he didn’t understand the question, but rather that he didn’t understand the words themselves. His mannerisms were so strangely childlike they left Sue perplexed.
“My name’s Seurat. I’m in the service of Grand Duke Valcua. As you’re in his domain, I take it you know who that is, right?”
“Val . . . cu . . . a?” the man murmured. His features, handsome enough to rival D’s, suddenly changed.
Seurat gasped in astonishment.
The man who stood there wore Valcua’s face.
“But you—I mean, milord is . . .”
Even realizing it was a duplicate, Seurat couldn’t help but speak respectfully to anyone wearing Valcua’s face.
The man—Valcua Two for lack of a better name—raised his right hand in a rather nonchalant gesture. In it he held an iron rod.
“Stand back, Sue,” Seurat said, reaching out one mighty arm to grab her by the collar and pull her back.
The rod the other man had swung had vanished into thin air. Down at Sue’s feet, a thick, curving line had been drawn.
Valcua Two drew back his right arm with a strange look on his face. His rod reappeared.
Seurat stepped forward. Not only did the right hand that gripped his club quake, but the rest of his body did as well. It was like the palsy of a dying man. That he’d made it this far was a miracle.
Any attacks from outside the ring would vanish, while those from within it would have the desired effect. That was Seurat’s special ability.
The second Seurat tried to thrust his club, the man with Valcua’s face brought his iron rod down. Seurat’s right shoulder made a strange sound. Sue saw that the man’s rod had gone halfway through it.
The weapon hadn’t vanished.
Suddenly the right half of Seurat’s body disappeared. Staggering, the giant turned to face Sue. His boulder of a face was etched with a look of great sadness, as if begging her forgiveness.
“I’m so sorry.”
And then he collapsed inside his own ring, sending a rumble through the ground.
As Sue clung to the enormous figure, Valcua Two looked down at her with a vacant expression. There wasn’t a trace of pride in the power he’d wielded, or contempt for his foe, or even pity for the dying. Still looking down at Sue, he stood unmoving for a few seconds, and then suddenly he reversed his grip on the iron rod—wrapping his left hand around it too—and raised it straight up in the air.
The man made a smooth stride forward. Even though he entered the ring, he didn’t disappear. If he brought the rod straight down, it would take Sue right through the nape of the neck.
Valcua Two didn’t take aim. He swung his weapon artlessly.
At that moment, a second miracle occurred. With impeccable timing, Sue slipped to the right. The rod pierced her left shoulder. A heartbeat later Sue realized what had happened, and a scream escaped from her mouth. Her left shoulder and arm had vanished.
Something like fine, gray dust clouded the air for a second. The iron rod was pulled back out.
A second upset awaited her. With no emotion showing on his face, Valcua Two brought his rod down. It stopped halfway. His left side had a sword sticking out of it.
Valcua Two spun around. The blade had slashed into him at an angle, and he left it there as he turned and saw D behind him.
“Valcua?”
Although the hoarse voice spoke in a surprised tone, the young man was expressionless, with looks so good they’d shake a stone.
“No, it ain’t him. I don’t know his name, but he’s got spunk.”
They were dealing with someone who had Valcua’s face. It would have been hard not to comment on it.
D removed his sword. Valcua Two’s hand grabbed hold of it. The blade sliced through the man’s fingers, but they didn’t fall off. His wounds closed instantaneously. The first blow hadn’t been a thrust, but rather a horizontal slash that had started at the right side of the base of his neck.
“Your sword ain’t working,” the hoarse voice said.
Valcua Two’s eyes looked vacantly in its direction. A silvery flash zipped through the middle of his neck, then immediately faded. His head should’ve gone flying—but it remained right where it belonged. The palm of his right hand rested against the top of his head. The instant D’s blade had passed through him, Valcua Two had held his head down with lightning speed.
As the man squared off against that Hunter of heavenly beauty, behind him Sue groaned, “D . . .”
“D,” Valcua Two said, his expression changing as he spoke the name.
“I’ll be!” the hoarse voice exclaimed with admiration.
The man who now stared at D was another D.
A glint of black raced out, and a silvery flash met it. The instant the iron rod and the sword came together with a dull thud, the rod was chopped in two. At the same time, D was sent flying backward.
“D,” murmured the man who wore D’s face. He stroked his features. His fingertips seemed to quake more from curiosity than from fear.
“D . . .” he murmured once again, and he started walking into the ring Seurat had made. His body disappeared, and then reappeared on the opposite side of the ring.
“D,” he mumbled as he climbed down the plateau, and D climbed back up immediately. The Hunter halted, his upper body trembled, and then he spat up blood. Valcua Two—or rather, the man who now wore D’s face—had been so powerful that he’d ruptured the real D’s internal organs.
“Sue comes first,” the left hand reminded D as his eyes turned to the man crossing the trench.
Bending down, D put his left hand against Sue’s left shoulder.
“The surface of the wound has calcified. The problem now is shock. Her nervous system’s all out of whack.”
“Can you do anything for her?”
“Yeah, some first aid. The rest will depend on that facility over yonder.”
D shifted his gaze from Sue’s face. About a hundred yards to the left of the machines, he could see a lozenge-shaped building resembling a shooting star that had struck the earth. It had to measure well over one hundred yards by five hundred yards.
“It looks like it’d make patients a nervous wreck, but anything that size has gotta have medical facilities.”
-
As the left hand had said, the vast complex was well equipped, containing an administrative center, living quarters, and medical facilities. D carried both Sue and Seurat, and when he came to the closed door, he merely had to press his left hand to the wall to get it to open. The facility’s systems for eliminating foreign objects or guarding against intruders were overridden by D’s blue pendant.
If people from the nearby villages could’ve seen the medical equipment, they probably would’ve wanted to work there, even if it meant serving as slave labor. The course of treatment selected for Sue and Seurat involved using nanomachines to reconstruct cells and skeletal structure. Medical devices that could operate on the scale of a ten-thousandth of a micron swiftly constructed artificial muscle and pseudobone in a manner akin to magic. Perhaps this was the alchemists’ dream brought to life—creating something from nothing.
“It looks like Sue can be saved, but the big guy is pretty far gone,” the Hunter’s left hand said without even seeing the medical data displayed on the screen. It was possible the hand could read it through D’s eyes. “That’s a genuine Noble beating he took. He may have been one of Valcua’s seven, but it looks like he was no match for a Noble after all. But it seems he was on pretty good terms with Sue. So what do we do?”
-
Her brain stimulated by something cold, Sue woke up.
D was standing beside her. She knew it was pointless to ask him questions as he put her in a magnetic hover chair and led her from her recovery room to the treatment center. Seurat lay on one of the operating tables.
“He won’t last another five minutes,” D told her softly. He made a gorgeous grim reaper.
Sue went over to the giant. The assassin had saved her. All the things she’d felt while on the road with him now came into sharp focus.
In Valcua’s service, Seurat had lived five thousand years. But that life was now nearly at an end.
She didn’t know what she should say. Remaining silent, she took the giant’s hand. Larger and softer than she expected, his hand was terribly cold.
“Sue . . .”
The girl thought it was just her imagination. But she was certain she heard his next words.
“Don’t . . . go . . .”
He might’ve been telling her not to go see the grand duke, or else pleading with her to stay by his side.
Pressing his cold hand against her cheek, Sue said, “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
Neither of them said anything after that, and a little more than five minutes later Seurat breathed his last.
-
“The asteroid missile was ultimately a dud,” a voice reported. “What’s more, there was no appreciable damage at the target site. It’s as if the asteroid just disappeared along the way.”
“If anyone could do that, it’s the Ultimate Noble,” replied a different voice. It was a man with a big diamond ring on his index finger. “It looks like there’s nothing more we can do. Even the chief knows as much.”
“When our ancestors fought against the Nobility, their only weapon was the patience to wait for morning. It’s imperative that the human race never give up.”
“Meaning?”
“If the asteroid missile failed, then use something that can’t be stopped. If striking from the sky won’t work, go through the ground.”
There was a long pause—a period in which their fears fermented.
“You don’t seriously intend to use that, do you? It could wipe out an entire continent! Why, have you even considered the collateral damage?”
“You think we didn’t take that into account when we went with the asteroid missile?”
“I know, but that’s—”
“There’s no point in debating this any further. What we need now is time to act.”
The decision was made. Regardless of the era, no matter what the situation, such decisions were always cold and calculated.
-
II
-
The D in silvery clothing headed further into the valley. Between cliffs of steel, a huge complex that seemed to be some sort of energy refinery appeared. Silence shrouded the grounds of the vast facility, and although nothing moved, the man could tell perfectly well that it was operational.
In a matter of minutes, the man stood in front of a building. The defensive systems that had let him come and go freely when he wore his last face now attacked him with all their might, but the devastator beams, gravity waves, and energy fields were all laid waste by one swipe of the iron rod the man carried. When the rod struck the wall of the building, the entire structure wavered like a heat shimmer and was then immediately wiped out of existence.
The man moved on to the next building.
-
“The Number Sixteen Energy Plant is being destroyed,” Kima reported.
Valcua opened his eyes. He lay on a sofa. Deep darkness filled his surroundings.
At present, it was daytime. The false darkness gained by simply turning off the lights was no guarantee that a Noble could act freely. Their actions were constrained solely to guard against their destruction by sunlight. By day, a Noble was stiff as a log, unable to move a muscle.
However, Valcua climbed off his bed, looked up in the air, and commanded, “Show me!”
A screen fifteen feet tall and thirty feet wide appeared on the ceiling, and on it was displayed the crumbling facility and the lord of destruction.
“Hmm. So, now he wears D’s face? Then I can see why he’d want to lay waste to my domain.”
“It appears his brain is under the control of D’s mind. If things continue like this, he might destroy every facility in your domain.”
Valcua stretched long and hard. “Coming at midday makes this somewhat inopportune, doesn’t it, Kima?”
“I agree completely, milord,” Kima said, his voice tinged with laughter. On witnessing such awesome destruction, his master’s reaction was equally impressive.
“Prepare my carriage!”
“If you like, I could bring you there immediately.”
Donning a grin that seemed to make the darkness freeze solid, Valcua replied, “The mood must be just right. Never forget that, Kima.” And then he left the room.
-
Ten minutes later, a carriage drawn by six steeds galloped out into the sunlight. Anyone who saw them racing along would’ve noticed how the carriage and horses were shrouded in an elliptical darkness that moved with them, leaving the wind swirling in its wake.
Half a day later, a dozen hooves kicked up sparks as the animals reared to a halt on the plain.
Up ahead, a lone figure was staggering forward. Though most of her face was bloodied and her white dress was charred and stained with gore, there was no mistaking Callas the Diva. Struck by the full force of the shock waves generated by the asteroid missile, the temptress had barely survived, and she was literally half-dead when she reached the vehicle.
The carriage door opened and a figure swathed in darkness stepped down to the ground. The longsword he gripped in his right hand was none other than Glencalibur.
“Oh, it’s you, Callas? What of the other six?” he inquired in a tone utterly devoid of compassion.
Going down on one knee, Callas bowed low. “With the exception of Seurat and myself, all the rest are gone.”
“Seurat has also met his end. And you’re not long for this world. Having failed in your task, you know what fate awaits you, don’t you, Callas?”
“Will you not give me one last chance, milord?”
“No.”
The diva toppled as the wind buffeted her. Her master’s callous reply had robbed her of the last glowing urge to live.
“Rot here if you like, or make your own way to someplace no one will ever find and meet your end. Choose a way to die that will not bring dishonor to the name of Valcua.”
And then the grand duke turned around, got back in his carriage, and raced past Callas in that unnatural darkness.
The wind played across her motionless body. Evening came and went, and darkness laid claim to the world. Cradling a single dying figure in its arms, the world kept its silence.
And then a voice called down to her, “Can you hear me, Callas?”
As her body didn’t move a muscle, Kima bent down and touched her gently.
“The fate of an assassin who doesn’t fulfill her orders is death—so it goes, but that punishment seems too cruel for such a woman.”
Taking what looked like a syringe out of his long robe, Kima drove its point into the nape of Callas’s neck. Ten seconds later, tremors ran through the lifeless body, and the faint sound of breathing flowed out into the silent world.
“Stay still. I’ve extended your life a bit, but it will soon be over. However, before it ends I’d like you to do something. I imagine you hate the grand duke.”
Although he hadn’t really required an answer, Callas moved her head to signal her agreement.
“Good enough. Come with me. Let the last of your energy be expended in a truly important act. It might just save the world.”
Before Kima had finished speaking, he put his hand on the diva’s shoulder.
The sound of the wind blowing was so faint in the area the two of them had occupied, it wouldn’t have reached anyone’s ears, and as darkness fell on the steel plain, there was no longer anyone there to hear it.
-
Somewhere in the distance a tune that sounded like electronic music could be heard. Matthew’s face grew pale and he put all his strength into his legs, intent on getting as far away as he could.
When a sudden gale had knocked the car on its side, the boy had managed to escape from it while Valcua’s will within his brain distracted the computer. Actually, Count Braujou had been about to perform a dangerous operation on Matthew’s brain to rid the boy of this influence. In order to power that procedure, the count had needed energy from more than just the car’s nuclear reactor—he required an outside source. That was the torrent D and Sue had encountered. It appeared when Braujou and Miranda had used their powers to locate an aquifer and stimulate it.
The boy had succeeded in convincing Sue of Valcua’s greatness. They were supposed to escape together, but things didn’t always go smoothly in the real world. Now that he’d finally been given the chance, it was only natural that Matthew was hurrying forward for all he was worth.
The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by darkness. Occasionally, there were blue flashes of lightning in the distance—but Matthew couldn’t see them.
“What the hell?”
As he looked around once more, his eyes found black peaks towering grandly in the darkness. Without even knowing it, he’d apparently wandered into a valley, and the realization gave Matthew a very odd feeling. He shouldn’t have been so lost. Valcua was supposed to be in his brain, telling him the proper direction to proceed, guiding the boy as surely as the earth’s magnetism guided birds. With that to aid him, he never should’ve strayed into the valley.
“What’s going on? Did someone else lead me here?”
Though he said these questions aloud, there was no one there to answer them.
Matthew kept on walking. Suddenly he noticed something.
I shouldn’t be going this way, he thought. Gotta get out of the valley.
But he kept right on walking. Even now he could feel himself moving down the sloping terrain.
The answer came to him in a flash. He was under the influence of what they called a tailer—a variety of monster Grand Duke Valcua had scattered throughout his domain to “welcome” intruders. Once this creature got behind someone, it could make them go wherever it liked; the person would either keep walking until they died of exhaustion or march back to its lair to be devoured.
“I don’t care for either of those options,” Matthew declared as he wildly dug through Valcua’s knowledge.
What was the tailer’s weakness? For some reason, he couldn’t retrieve that information. The shock wave had caused him to hit his head against the car, but he didn’t know if that had anything to do with it. He needed to do something.
Ignoring Matthew’s misgivings, his legs continued working diligently, guiding him into the deep valley.
There was now a blue moon in the sky. A shadow fell at Matthew’s feet. In no time his body was level with the road. Massive boulders surrounded him—but then, this was a world of steel. The boulders were all triangles, cubes, rhomboids, or other geometric figures. Matthew slipped in between them.
In a world of steel, a cave didn’t just occur naturally. Everything was purposely constructed. The tailer’s lair had probably been designed back when this domain was first established. The entrance to the steel cavern was in the shape of an oblong. About thirty feet in, it widened sharply on either side.
Matthew gasped.
He saw countless human bodies piled in the cave. Those on the very bottom were crumbling, bleached bones. About six feet up, they became shriveled mummies, which went on for another thirty feet. There must’ve been easily a thousand of them.
It doesn’t eat the flesh. It just walks them until they’re worn out, and then—
—and then it waited for the exhausted humans to rot here.
The boy felt a terrible fatigue rising in him from the soles of his feet. He was tired. All he wanted to do was rest.
Walking over to the mountain of corpses on unsteady legs, Matthew planted a foot on one of the mummies. In a mindless manner he climbed. He couldn’t control his arms or legs anymore. All he could do was climb. He put more power into his legs. One mummy’s sternum snapped audibly.
Something like a scream rang out behind him. At that instant, strength flooded back into every inch of Matthew’s body. Pulling his foot free, he turned around.
Behind him, a black figure contorted its body. It was a two-dimensional creature that looked just like a human being—but its chest was pierced by the tip of a long spear with a three-dimensional thickness and mass.
The shadow vanished in an instant. Only the spear remained. From its lengthy head down to its end was a good twenty feet. The gigantic figure who gripped it in one hand was nearly fifteen feet tall.
“You’re nothing like your sister, you dolt!”
This heap of scorn was spat by none other than Count Braujou.
-
III
-
“Wh—what are you doing here?”
The first words to sputter from the boy’s mouth were a perfectly natural reaction. Just as he was about to be fed to the wolves, a man-eating tiger had saved him.
“You were under the impression you’d escaped, but just to be safe, I’d sprayed a radioactive substance over you that would allow me to track you. The whole time you were walking I was following along less than five hundred yards behind. And I was well aware you’d fallen under the tailer’s control. Now, get going!”
And saying this, the count thrust his spear into the mountain of mummies and skeletons. Matthew staggered and covered his ears, for although there was nothing alive there, a scream had rung out that no earthly creature could’ve made.
About halfway up the head of the spear, a life form with unusual limbs appeared as a kind of smoke that looked for a moment like it would leap at Braujou but quickly vanished.
“I’ve taken care of the tailer. Now go!”
As the despondent Matthew exited the cavern, the count said nothing, merely pointing to his car with his long spear. Heaving a sigh, the boy reached for the handle—and then the count looked up into space.
Flames of joy burned in Matthew’s body. The night air had been blanketed with an incredible aura of the supernatural.
“Valcua?” the count murmured, gazing ahead—into the depths of the valley.
An unearthly air was coming—a demon. Even Matthew went pale.
At the end of the road, a human figure coalesced. Like fate, the voices of the count and the boy combined, calling out a single name.
“D?”
“No, it’s not him,” the count said, shaking his head.
Matthew realized that, too. D didn’t wear silver tights. Nor did he carry an iron rod.
“So, he’s got D’s face and Valcua’s aura, does he? This should be an interesting topic to research,” the count said with a smirk, his fangs poking from his lips. “The question is . . . would fighting him be wise? Well, let’s see!”
Suddenly catching Matthew by the collar, the count made an easy swing of his arm that hurled the boy at the man with D’s face. His aim was perfect, and the boy landed on his rump at the man’s feet.
The count’s intent was clear. If this man were D—or rather, if he were an ally—he wouldn’t lay a hand on Matthew. On the other hand, if he were someone loyal to Valcua, he’d most likely abduct the boy or kill him. Something seemed to have come over the count. Having sworn to defend Matthew at all costs, why did he then use him in an experiment like this?
“Ahhhhh!” the boy shrieked, trying desperately to get up again, but the pain in his tailbone wouldn’t allow it.
D looked at Matthew blankly. In that dazed but radiant expression, something stirred. The iron rod went up.
Matthew shrieked again.
Rod still raised, the man with D’s face walked forward.
“It would seem he’s not our foe,” Count Braujou said, and though his muscles relaxed as he gazed at the approaching figure, the glint in his eye made it clear he hadn’t dropped his guard.
This strange D fearlessly advanced to about six feet from the count before halting.
“Who are you?” the count inquired. Though the tip of his spear rested against the ground, he had power and speed enough to raise it in a heartbeat and impale his foe if the need arose.
After some time, the man replied, “D.”
“No, you’re not. Your face may look exactly like his, but your build’s different. However, the fact that you can duplicate his beauty so precisely makes you a most intriguing man. What’s your connection to Valcua?”
The man said nothing.
“What in the—” the count exclaimed, suddenly raising his spear.
D’s face had changed unexpectedly.
An impact with a force that seemed like it would knock the earth from its axis startled the count. The man had parried the blow with his iron rod. And the face that grinned back at Braujou was that of Valcua himself.
“You—you freak!” the count exclaimed, swinging his spear around.
Still in the same stance as when he’d parried, Valcua Two was thrown high into the air by the Nobleman’s monstrous strength. He was powerless to stop Braujou’s spear from sinking deep into his flesh. The body that thudded to the ground was like a tiny insect struck down with an enormous stake. As he writhed on the ground, the spear also thrashed about wildly, whistling through the wind.
The sight was so grisly Matthew had to shut his eyes, while the count laughed, “That’s a strange power you have, but while you’re wearing Valcua’s face, I can’t allow you to live. I’ll send you to the next life ahead of your master, so you can arrange a welcome party for him in hell if you like.”
He looked at the man thrashing on the ground. And the man was looking at the count.
“What’s this?” This time, it was a cry of unadulterated surprise that flew from the count’s mouth. “Valcua’s face, D’s face—and now that of the Sacred Ancestor?”
So great was the count’s astonishment, he didn’t even turn when he heard someone say, “Incredible, isn’t it, Braujou?”
When he finally did turn his gaze down the road the man had appeared on, he found a figure in a golden robe that glittered in the darkness. Every inch of the count’s body readied for battle. Finally, he said, “Valcua! The real one, I take it.”
“I needn’t ask, Braujou, but I assume that as you’ve entered my domain, you’re prepared to meet your fate.”
With this remark, the golden robe flew up as his right hand raised Glencalibur, the longsword’s gilded blade glistening in the moonlight.
And in response—a hint of turbulence stirred in Count Braujou’s expression. His long spear was thrashing back and forth against the ground.
“Go ahead and get it, Braujou,” Valcua said with a toss of his chin at the writhing figure. “But be careful. That man—”
Not listening to the rest, Count Braujou dashed over for his long spear. He reached for the shaft, but at that moment the spear disappeared, being driven instead through the giant’s heart and out his back.
“Gaaaaah!” the count howled in unearthly agony.
“I told you to be careful,” Valcua said to him with a smirk.
“Bastard! You lousy bastard!”
Spitting up blood, Count Braujou grabbed the spear with both hands. Though it was his own spear, the Nobleman couldn’t make it move an inch for all his prodigious strength. The reason was simple: another powerful hand gripped the shaft of the spear: the hand of the other Valcua.
No, look. There beneath the moon, the man’s features shifted as if by some magical trick of that mysterious light—his face changing from Valcua’s to D’s, and from D’s to another man’s.
Forgetting his pain, Braujou stared intently at the visage.
“Why . . . why . . . are you here . . . milord?”
Little by little, a hue of incredible terror had begun to stew in the count’s eyes.
“It can’t be . . . Those other two . . . They couldn’t be . . .”
Regardless of what the count might’ve suspected, he didn’t get a chance to say it aloud. A golden god descended from the heavens—or so it appeared to Matthew. Leaping up to be framed against the moon, the Ultimate Noble brought his blade down on the gigantic Count Braujou, slicing from the right side of his neck clean through the left side of his torso in one stroke!
Amazingly, as his upper body started to slide apart, Braujou used his massive arms to pull the pieces back into place.
“Outstanding,” Valcua said as he drew his longsword back. Would the coup de grâce be a thrust or—
Just then, a figure in a white dress floated down from the sky, accompanied by a seductive laugh. It was a woman of otherworldly beauty. She stood before them like a fairy, balanced on the blade of Valcua’s sword.
“Long time no see, Grand Duke Valcua,” she said, an alluring smile on her face.
“Why, if it isn’t Duchess Miranda! How nice of you to deliver yourself to me like this.”
“I wonder if even the Ultimate Noble is a match for the combined might of Braujou and me.”
Grinning at the bewitching beauty, Valcua replied, “We shall see—now.”
At that moment, Matthew saw the blade of the sword rise and fall ever so slightly.
Losing her footing, Miranda fell, her body straddling the blade as she did. As she landed, a vermilion line zipped through the duchess from the groin to the top of her head. Blood gushed from that line the instant Glencalibur was through her head.
“This can’t be . . .” the lovely woman said, staggering.
“Wounds from Glencalibur don’t close, no matter how great your molecular regeneration might be,” Valcua sneered.
As she started to split down the middle, Miranda wrapped her arms around herself. Braujou had been sliced through at an angle, and now the seductress had been split in two—such was the might possessed by the Ultimate Noble.
“How good of you to gather here in the valley for me today. I offer you my thanks . . . with this longsword!”
Once again he drew back his blade. He intended to impale both of them on it at the same time. However, something stopped him. Someone had grabbed the hilt of his magic sword.
Turning around, he said, “D.”
Letting go of Glencalibur, the Ultimate Noble reached into his robe as he leaped ten feet away. What he sent flying like a shooting star was a blade over a foot and a half in length. A split second before it pierced the silvery chest, it was batted down by an iron rod.
While Valcua could tell Braujou and Miranda were getting away, he couldn’t pursue them.
“So, your power is a match for mine and D’s, is it? I wonder what the other you would do now?”
The grand duke raised his right hand. The sky was torn open as blue lightning scored a direct hit on the man with D’s face. Ions and nothingness filled the air.
The two Nobles had already fled to the entrance of the valley.
White smoke and flames engulfed the man.
“Come,” Valcua said to Matthew—who’d been left behind—grabbing him by the arm and pulling him closer before raising his right arm once more. He swung it down again in a forceful, powerful gesture.
“Ahhhhh!” Matthew screamed, his cry swallowed by movements of incredible mass.
The mountains themselves were shifting—mountains of steel. Mountains that rose more than three thousand feet above sea level were slamming into each other. The man who wore D’s face was between them, as were Valcua and Matthew. The collision unleashed a wave of destruction to which the shock waves from the asteroid missile couldn’t begin to compare. Winds pelted the plain and surged into the sky, shifting the clouds and obscuring the moon’s corona. Far across the plain, remnants of the shock wave seemed to travel endlessly.
When the rumble finally grew thin, the mountains moved once again, returning to their original locations. The valley they’d crushed between them returned to silence in the moonlight as if nothing had happened, with no trace of the mysterious stranger or the Ultimate Noble to be found.