Heavily inspired by u/bluefishcakes sexysectbabes story
The Man in the Spire: Book 1, Chapter 17
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No Mercy for Thee
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Troy Rechlin - Major of the Peacemaker Union Corp
Mountain Roads
“And there it is, men!” Li Mang shouted, his voice swelling with pride as he lifted a hand toward the horizon. “Grand Nanhu City, in all its splendor!”
“Or what’s left of it,” Loa muttered from the back of the cart, chewing harder on his stalk of grain as though it had personally offended him.
The forest thinned as the mountain road descended, revealing grand open land. Rolling hills stretched outward, stitched with wide terraces of rice paddies that shimmered faintly in the light. Crude foot-powered bucket ladders stood at intervals along the rice fields, their wooden vanes creaking as they turned. Long channels carried water down from the lake, feeding the paddies in steady flows.
Troy stared longer than he meant to.
Old, yes, but thoughtfully placed. He could see the logic in the layout immediately. Gravity-fed irrigation. Redundancy is built into the channels. For something so archaic, it was clever. His engineer’s eye traced the water’s path, as if stepping back in time to see how people once met their needs.
His gaze lifted as the land rose again, and the city walls came into view.
They were immense.
Even from miles away, the walls dominated the landscape, stone ramparts climbing the mountain’s slope and extending outward into the lake itself. Wooden guard towers crowned the top at regular intervals, dark silhouettes against the sky. Each section of wall was carved with the same repeating emblem, a stylized stone flower worked deep into the masonry.
The main gate was no less imposing. Broad, tall, and deliberately excessive, built as much to impress as to defend.
Most of the city lay hidden behind the walls, though curved rooftops peeked over the edge like watchful eyes. Above it all rose the castle.
It sat carved into the mountain like a throne etched into the land, resting on a massive foundation cut directly into the rock. Wide stairways zigzagged upward toward it, while channels carried water down in controlled cascades, feeding fountains and reservoirs far below.
He had seen megastructures before. Space elevators, orbital platforms, and cities designed by committee and computation.
This was different.
This was authority made for all to see.
“It’s amazing,” Troy said quietly.
“It’s seen better days,” Loa replied, the familiar edge in his voice returning.
Troy could not deny it. Even at a distance, neglect showed through the grandeur. Grime streaked the stone like old scars. Sections near the parapets sat uneven or unfinished, symmetry broken by years of delay. The city stood tall, but tired.
“Well,” Li said, after a moment, “These have been a few troublesome years.”
Loa glanced at him but did not argue.
“How did it get this way?” Troy asked.
“Two reasons,” Loa said, shifting as the cart jolted over a rut. “Resources, first. The Empire’s demands have grown heavy since the war in the north. Grain, stone, labor. That is why you did not see many men like me in the village. The increase of tribute carts that crawl through the domain.”
He gestured toward the lakeshore. Troy squinted and spotted another oxcart in the distance, hugging the water’s edge, its wagon stacked to the brim with stone. He was surprised the rabbitman could see so far, as he and Li had to squint to see.
“She sends what she must,” Li retorted. “And she preserves what she can. A balance that is fragile.”
“And the second reason?” Troy asked.
Li answered before Loa could. His voice lowered, no longer ceremonial. “The fall of the Stone Lotus Sect.”
“Our former lords,” he continued, “were architects as much as cultivators. They raised these walls with Qi and maintained them the same way.”
Loa nodded once. “Anything shaped by Qi must be tended by Qi.”
Troy felt understanding settle uneasily. “So when they fell…”
“The stone remained,” Li said. “The knowledge did not.”
He drew a slow breath. “Her Excellency governs a city built for hands she no longer has. Every decree stretches her further. Every repair competes with hunger, defense, and politics.”
Loa said nothing, which told Troy more than words would have.
“And what happened to the Stone Lotus Sect?” Troy asked.
“Amberwood happened,” Loa said, the words bitten off like a curse. His posture remained loose, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
Li’s grip tightened on the reins. “Master Long Gan and Master Mon Su were never aligned. That much was known. Conflict between sects is not rare.” He paused, his breath drawing thin. “But to erase a sect entirely. To leave no elders, no disciples, no legacy. Especially for such a…needed sect was excess.”
Loa snorted. “Excess wins wars.”
Li did not rise to the bait. “The old lords were builders. True ones. They raised walls that endured storms and centuries. They did not seek dominance, only stability.” His voice lowered. “And if the heavens permit me to say it, the magistrate’s silence on the matter troubles me.”
“I know they meant something to you,” Loa said more quietly. “But this world does not reward sentiment. Amberwood offers strength, not shelter. Power matters more than stone.”
Li said nothing. The silence carried the weight of mourning rather than agreement.
Troy hesitated, then ventured, “No disrespect, but if Qi maintains these structures, why not have another cultivator replace them?”
Loa exhaled sharply. “Qi isn’t a trick you wave around. It’s discipline. Decades of shaping instinct into intent. Most cultivators learn how to destroy long before they learn how to preserve.”
“The magistrate has petitioned the Jade Palace,” Li added. “One of their master craftsmen. If Heaven is kind, perhaps I will live long enough to see what they create.”
Loa shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath, old man. I doubt they’ll arrive in my lifetime.”
“Why not have mortals do it?”
Loa chuckled. “You think mortals could build something like that?” He gestured toward the city, its walls climbing mountains and shores alike.
Troy frowned, his eyes looking over the immense walls, then drifting towards the water to the silver bloom he brought from another world, resting in the lake. “Let’s say,” he began carefully, “just for a moment, that they could. " What do you think would ha—”
“Troy.”
Troy braced for another lecture, some tired reminder about mortal limits and cultivator strength. Instead, Loa’s face went flat and focused. He gave a small, urgent nod toward the roadside ahead.
A cart waited there, half hidden where the forest pressed tight to the road. Iron bars. A reinforced cage. Empty cuffs bolted to the frame. Several guards lingered nearby, weapons held loose but eyes sharp.
Understanding landed like a stone in Troy’s gut.
He slipped off the cart without a word, dropped low, and tucked himself behind the wheel as they rolled past. Every movement was measured in the hope that his features would remain hidden, while the noise from the creaking wagon and clinking charms helped keep him concealed.
No idea what the guards were hunting, but if Loa sensed danger, that was enough.
“A fair morning to you!” Li called out, cheerful as ever.
Troy flinched, certain the greeting would draw eyes. Instead, the guards barely glanced their way. One nodded. Another turned back to the cage, adjusting a length of chain coiled beside it.
The chain was short. Wrist-thick. Fitted with a single locking cuff already sized.
The cart rolled on.
Only when the forest swallowed the road again did Troy climb back atop the logs, eyes still alert. “What was that about?”
Li shrugged lightly. “Perhaps spirit beast hunting?”
“So close to the city?” Loa muttered. “Unlikely.”
Troy said nothing. He just hoped Li was right…
The shape of the cage stayed with him long after it vanished from sight.
***
Nearly half an hour slipped by as the sun climbed into a dull afternoon. The road unwound through thinning forest and low hills, its ruts worn smooth by years of travel. Since passing the caged wagon, conversation had withered, with only the jingle of the bells and the plucking of Troy's violin.
Signs of life returned in fragments. A weathered shrine at a crossroads, its incense long cold. Smoke curling from a distant outpost. A lone watchpost where the road bent toward the plains, its banner hanging slack.
Li broke the silence.
“There’s a storm brewing.”
Loa and Troy followed his gesture toward the mountains. White peaks speared the sky with growing dark clouds that looked like they were clawing to get over them.
“It’s monsoon season on the coast,” Li said. “When clouds cling to the peaks like that, they are borrowing rain.”
“There hasn’t been a storm like that in decades here,” Loa muttered.
Li nodded. “Aye. But my father told me when I was a boy. Clouds at the crown mean Heaven is stirring for a punishment.”
Troy glanced between them. “Will you guys be alright?”
“Oh, we’ll manage,” Li said with a soft chuckle. “The village has survived worse, and we’ll find a tavern to rest in.” He shifted on the seat, grimacing with an added remark. “These carts were never built with old bones in mind anyway.”
“How much farther?”
“At the next junction,” Li replied. “We leave the road and head for the lake. My old friend waits there.”
“Wonderful,” Loa muttered, turning his attention back to the passing trees.
“You alright, Loa?” Troy asked.
“Fantastical,” came his flat answer.
Li waved a hand. “Do not fret. I have no intention of entering the city. I only needed a reliable pack mule to carry supplies back.”
The words lingered, heavier than intended.
Troy opened his mouth to reply, unsure what was wrong with the city.
A sharp bird call cleaved the air.
Loa and Troy both looked up.
Another followed, farther off. Then a third, echoing from a different direction. The calls were clean, precise, and spaced too evenly to be natural.
“What was what?” Li asked, seeming oblivious to the calls.
Loa’s body locked in place, spine straightening as if pulled by invisible strings. Long ears snapped upright and rotated slowly, tracking something Troy could not see. The casual slouch vanished, replaced by a posture so alert it made Troy’s skin prickle.
Something was horribly wrong.
“ALERT.” Hordak’s voice detonated inside his skull, stripped of all restraint. “MULTIPLE CONTACTS APPROACHING YOUR POSITION. HOSTILE PROBABILITY: HIGH*.*”
A translucent overlay flooded Troy’s vision of the surrounding area with their little cart at the center.
Red markers bloomed across the forest like spreading wounds. Dozens of hostiles descended onto their position, moving with such speed that Troy would have mistaken them for drones or vehicles if he knew better.
Of the markers, one streaked forward far faster than the rest, its velocity climbing into ranges that made no physical sense.
“We need to move n—”
The sentence was never finished.
Loa was already reacting.
The rabbitkin arched backward, legs coiled back, muscle and bone aligning like a drawn bow. For the briefest instant, his eyes met Troy’s.
There was no panic in them. Only an apology.
Both feet struck Troy square in the chest.
There was no pain. The sudden, horrifying absence of weight swallowed everything.
The road vanished. The sky flipped. Trees became streaks of green and shadow as Troy sailed backwards far too fast and much too far. Logic failed. Distance collapsed. The world became a motion of wind and noise.
The embankment caught him hard.
He tumbled, rolled, and slammed into dirt and stone until momentum bled away. His vision swam. Ears rang. The sensors warped.
Then the world screamed.
Fire descended from the sky.
A blazing sphere was punched down into the cart with catastrophic force. The ox, the wood, the violin, Li’s seat, the lockbox, the supplies—all of it vanished in a single concussive boom. Heat slapped Troy flat as burning debris howled overhead. A flaming log slammed into the ground where his head had been a heartbeat earlier, sending sparks skittering like fleeing insects.
“LI! LOA!” Troy screamed in horror.
Only the raging inferno answered.
The blaze roared and twisted, consuming the entire road, leaving only smoldering ruin.
Then something moved inside it.
A figure stepped out of the flames, untouched by heat or smoke. Flames curled away from her as if repelled. In one hand, she dragged a blackened body across the scorched earth.
Flesh burned beyond recognition. Limbs hung wrong. Troy couldn’t tell who it was. All he knew was it was one of his friends, and his stomach dropped into something cold and hollow.
“I missed,” Ying Mei hissed, irritation threading her voice like poison.
She let go of the body, falling to the ground with a wet, final sound, discarded like broken cargo.
Troy was already moving.
He surged to his feet and snapped the Ixion Mark IX up in one smooth motion, barrel tracking instinctively. Systems whirred to life. Targeting reticles bloomed across his vision.
Something else stirred inside. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You,” Troy growled, voice shaking despite himself. “You killed—”
“Easy, sister.” A familiar voice cut in, light and amused. “Our orders were to bring him back alive.”
Troy spun.
Ying Liu, the white-furred dogkin of the two horrid women, stood a short distance away, her fang grin sharp and unapologetic. Flanking her were two other cultivators Troy did not recognize, their stances loose, confident, and ready for slaughter.
More shapes dropped from above.
Troy’s weapon tracked them one by one.
Six.
Eight.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Twelve cultivators.
Each landed with practiced ease, boots touching earth as if gravity were a courtesy rather than a law, as they surrounded the stranded man. Robes snapped and settled around them, cut from different sect colors and fabrics yet sharing the same martial lines. Some wore layered silks reinforced with lacquered plates at the shoulders and ribs. Others favored travel leathers stitched with talismans and metal thread, charms clinking softly as they moved.
Weapons came free in near unison. Straight swords slid from plain scabbards with a whisper of steel. Hooked blades unfolded from sleeves. Spears tipped with etched heads were grounded with quiet confidence. Chains uncoiled, weighted ends swaying lazily. No two weapons were alike, yet every one bore the marks of care, polish, and lethal intent.
They surrounded the stranded man, like cultists ready to sacrifice a pig to their false god.
“Hordak,” Troy commanded. “I need backup! Now!”
“Solution deployed. Stay operational.”
Troy swallowed and aimed anyway, the barrel jerking between each of them, ready to squeeze the trigger. The cultivators did not react. They observed him with faint amusement, as if indulging a tantrum before they struck.
“That’s easier said th—”
He was silenced by a fist to his cheek.
***
Magistrate Lin Yao
Magistrate Office
“Repeat it," Yao spoke, her fingernails tapping against each other like steel arrow tips.
Zhi might have been a cultivator originating from the Thousand Ink, but the gap of power between her and the magistrate was as vast as it was for a cultivator and a mortal. Still, she did her duty, even as her tail wrapped around her legs as she stood rigid in front of the magistrate’s ornate desk.
“Great M-Magistrate Lin Y-Yao,” she stammered, voice trembling, “the Jade Palace denies your petition. By Celestial decree, the war effort remains paramount. All certified cultivators of the architectural arts have been reassigned to war works and the restoration of the Great Wall.”
Silence settled across the office.
"F-furthermore, if you do not achieve your next quota, you’re leadership will be pushed under question and—"
“Enough.” The word was infused with deadly intent, and the tigerkin immediately ceased.
Yao did not move at first.
She sat behind a broad carved desk layered with open ledgers, tribute tallies, cracked seal stamps, and maps of Grand Nanhu marked in careful red ink where walls had slipped, watchtowers had weakened, and waterways had begun to fail. So much red covered the map that it was soaked in blood, much like how her kingdom bled.
Yao was deadly silent, her breathing growing heavier and heavier. While there were no words, Zhi could feel the killing intent radiating off her master as the draconic eyes glowed brighter through the mask with each breath.
“The northern war consumes grain, ore, labor, and now even the craftsmen of heaven as well,” Yao said. Her voice remained calm, but the air in the office had begun to tighten. “I have sent every levy demanded of me. I have paid every tribute in full. I have kept the city alive for five years.” She stepped around the desk, her robes whispering over the stone. “And in return, Heaven demands even more blood.”
The last word cracked.
The desk left the floor.
It struck the far wall in a burst of splintered wood and flying scrolls. Bronze inkstones tumbled end over end. Shelves rattled. Lamps swayed. The pressure of her qi rolled through the chamber in a sharp, invisible wave that nearly sent Zhi flat to the floor.
“I cannot mend a city with will and wishes alone!” A deep draconic growl reverberated in the room.
Lightning flickered briefly along Yao’s claws. Her robes snapped in the stirring air. Behind the draconic mask, her breathing had gone slow and measured, which only made the fury feel more dangerous.
The office around her bore the shape of the burden she carried. Repair maps hung from the walls beside waterworks diagrams. Tax records lay open beside grain shortage reports. In one corner stood a surviving Stone Lotus survey tablet, its etched measurements precise, elegant, and useless in equal measure. Those who understood stone, water, and qi as a single language had built Grand Nanhu.
Those hands were ash now and her beloved city was following suit.
“The heavens demand loyalty,” Yao said, quieter now. “They demand tribute. Labor. Sons and daughters to feed their wars. They demand patience from those beneath them and call it order.” Her dragon eye narrowed behind the slit of the mask. “And when that obedience begins to crack under its own weight, they answer with absence.”
Zhi bowed lower, forehead nearly touching the floor, praying to any ancestor that would hear her pleas.
Yao barely noticed.
“And that dog…”
Her claws curled, sparks of lightning snapping between them. The memory burned sharply. Mon Su’s rampage. The Stone Lotus reduced to ash. If she had the ability, Amberwood’s master would have been erased from the world that very day.
But Master Mon Su was untouchable.
War demanded warriors, not architects. She supplied more cultivators than anyone else in the province, perhaps in the entire empire. To kill Mon Su would be killing the empire's golden goose. She could not afford to lose not just one Dominion sect but two.
So Yao had obeyed. She always obeyed. She always paid.
And in return, she ruled a city bleeding from a wound that would not close. Waiting. Growing worse each year. Hoping that pain and struggle would be answered.
The loss of the Stone Lotus Sect had hollowed out Nanhu. Their craft had shaped the walls, the bridges, and the roads. What remained were survivors too few to matter and pretenders who could not fill the void. Each month, the damage worsened. Each month, Heaven remained silent.
Such short-sighted fools…
Such a short-sighted ruler…
Qi surged despite her restraint.
Scrolls lifted from their stacks. Ink bled upward. Her robes snapped in an unseen wind as her hair twisted around her horns, lightning crawling across her scales.
“Mistress Yao,” a guard called from the doorway.
“WHAT?”
The word struck him like a battering ram. The poor oxkin flew backward through the frame and into the opposite wall, hard enough to split plaster and dent metal. He slid to the floor, half-conscious and gasping.
“T-the spire...” he rasped. “It stirs...” The man spoke before losing consciousness.
There was a small pause before the mood shifted.
Pressure vanished in the air. Papers drifted back to the floor. The lightning died across her claws. Even Zhi dared to lift her head as the large dragonkin made her leave.
“Clean this chamber,” she said, striding past the fallen without pause. “And see to the wounded.”
“Yes, Magistrate,” Zhi managed, voice shaking but somewhat grateful to be free from her magistrate's tirade.
With but a breath, she moved in a blur, qi carrying her through corridors and up stairwells toward the nearest guard tower.
The men stationed there were playing a simple game of Gin when the magistrate entered their presence. They were quick to bow in apology when they saw who entered their chambers.
She did not spare them a glance. Her gaze fixed on the lake and the metal flower that sat within it.
Its vast, shiny petals unfolded with slow, deliberate grace, each layer peeling back from the next. What lay within was awakening. Yao stood utterly still as she watched every seam shift, every plate unlock, and every impossible movement. Every ounce of it was studied and devoured by her hungry eyes.
Then fire burst from within.
Twin plumes of flame and smoke trailed behind the object that rose from the flower’s heart. It took the shape of a bird but moved like nothing born of flesh or feather, banking through the sky as it turned towards the castle.
The guards shouted in alarm. The bronze bell alarms sounded across the parapets. Archers scrambled into place.
Yao did not call for them to fire.
She did not call them off, either.
She only watched.
The metal bird screamed across the valley, curved away from the city, and vanished past the mountain in a streak of smoke and impossible motion. Its echo lingered long after it had passed from sight.
Her smile returned.
More marvels. More unknowns. More questions.
All she knew was that its secrets were going to be hers soon.
***
Troy Rechlin
He just needed one second to react.
Just one!
Mei refused to give him one.
Her attacks were swift and relentless. The way she moved, the way she struck. He could barely keep up.
The rest of the cultivators stood in a cult-like circle and watched as the ever-loving crap was being beaten out of him, murmuring to each other as if this were some ceremony.
“She better be careful, or she will kill him.”
“She is merely testing him. The mortal seems more skilled than he appears.”
“Or Lady Mei is weaker than she seems.”
This was him doing well!?
He was on the back foot the entire time. If he was not stopping her open-handed strikes, he was shielding his vitals with his forearms. Even then, something kept slipping through. A knuckle to the ribs. A palm that rattled his jaw. A blow that made the world tilt.
All Troy could do was fall back on basic close-quarters combat training and keep moving.
It needed to end, and Mei obliged.
With a swift kick to the stomach, she sent him hurtling what must have been the length of half a football field. Several cultivators stepped aside as his body flew past.
He landed with a thud but rolled back to his feet. Perhaps she thought he was a normal mortal and that blow would have ended him. But it instead gave him a chance. A chance to shoot the murderer until his magazine was empty.
He drew—
A flash of movement, and the dogkin was on top of him.
A jolt shot up his wrist as Mei slapped the weapon aside, the gun tumbling away.
He staggered. She pressed in with a blinding flurry of strikes that weren’t meant to wound, only to break him down piece by piece. A rib. An arm. Even the other cultivators watching flinched at the brutality.
Then, he saw an opening. In the flurry of blows, she left her head unguarded. His only chance was to take it, and he swung at her temple with all the weight of his hatred. She simply dipped beneath the blow and drove both palms into his underjaw. The hit detonated like a cannon blast, sending him airborne.
Sky swallowed him. Wind roared past.
Mei appeared above in midair, rising through the air as though gravity only existed as a suggestion for a being like her.
Her face remained empty and unreadable as her hand jutted forward at his face.
“Perish.”
A flame ignited in her palm, swirling like a newborn sun.
And then there was fire.
***
Ying Mei
The body was engulfed in flame and slammed into the ground.
Fire surged upward in a towering bloom, devouring soil, shattered timber, and flesh alike. Heat rolled across the clearing in suffocating waves, bending air and shadow as the roar drowned out the forest itself.
She settled at the edge of the inferno, calm and composed, silk sleeves fluttering in the updraft. A faint smile curved her lips.
It was finished.
The outsider had fallen. Reduced to ash by her hand. Even if the final strike had required no more than a casual gesture, the outcome would have remained absolute. The mortal had been denser than anticipated, resilient in a way that defied reason, but resilience meant nothing before the power she wielded.
Pride settled deep in her core.
Somewhere beyond sight, beyond flame and smoke, her master would be watching. Approving. Perhaps even pleased.
“WHAT IN THE REALMS DID YOU DO?!” A familiar male voice shouted from the gathered group of onlookers.
Qi flared in startled bursts. Steel scraped free from sheaths. Lesser cultivators fumbled, shock rippling through the ranks. Uncertainty, anger, and fear gripped the others, clearly unfamiliar with such great power.
Only Liu did not move.
Her sister stared into the burning crater, eyes wide, as if the world had slipped out of alignment and refused to return.
Mei did not turn.
She bent smoothly, retrieving the strange foreign weapon that had struck them both when they first met the creature. The metal felt cold in her grasp, unresponsive, stubbornly mundane. With a flick of her wrist, she cast it into the fire.
It vanished with a hiss, swallowed like kindling.
“I have done only what was required,” Mei said, voice even and untroubled. “I carried out my master’s will.”
“Mei…” Liu stepped forward despite herself. “This one does not understand—”
“Silence!” The single word fell like a command seal.
Mei turned at last, firelight reflecting in her eyes. She stood before the inferno, hands folding neatly behind her back, posture immaculate, every line of her stance drilled into perfection.
“The city is already lost,” she declared. “Its walls decay. Its people cry for change while Heavens ignore!”
One cultivator shouted, voice shaking. “You have doomed us! We can never return now!”
Mei laughed, soft and disdainful. “Return?” She tilted her head. “Why crawl back to rot when the future stands waiting?”
She spread her arms. Flame licked along her sleeves, drawn to her Qi like a lover. “The magistrate wastes strength chasing curiosities. My master sees further. She understands what must be cast aside.”
Her gaze swept the gathering. “You fear exile. You fear loss. Small and temporary fears in the grand scheme of all.”
“My master offers recompense for your service,” Mei continued. “Power. Protection. A place in what comes next.”
She stepped forward, voice rising, carried by heat and conviction. “I ask only this. Become the whispers within your sects. Speak the truth others are too afraid to voice. Tell them the tide is turning.”
Her chin lifted.
“Amberwood will rule. A truth you can no longer deny!” Mei proclaimed. “It will be us who stand above all as it should!”
Her smile widened, fangs fully bared, and eyes gleaming for power as she watched uncertainty flood the fellow cultivators. Even Ying Liu was unsure what she was seeing in her sister.
“This is the future,” she said.
“This is the tide.”
“This is—”
BRRRRRT
***
Ying Liu
That horrid noise again. That horrific noise from that cursed “dart thrower.” But that should not be possible. Mei destroyed the weapon and its wielder.
Thereafter, the world went quiet.
Mei remained standing for a breath too long, posture still proud, still unbroken, as if will alone might deny what had happened. Then her expression wavered. Just slightly.
She coughed.
Blood slipped from her lips, dark against the red of her dress.
Her knees struck the ground.
Shock rippled through her body as wet splashes spread across the silk, heat faded, and strength leaked away. Behind her, something shifted within the fire.
“That’s… not…” Mei whispered, disbelief hollowing out the words. “Not… fair…”
A second thunderclap answered.
Her head snapped forward. The body pitched down, face-first, and only then did the truth show itself. Her back was torn open with dozens of smoking wounds punched clean through as if it were mere mortal flesh.
“MEI!” Liu screamed, her legs aching to rush in and save her, despite the fact that there was nothing to save.
She was only stopped by his voice, which sounded so foreign and abhorrent that even the gods would question what it was.
“I t-t-tried…I tried. I wanted to be l-l-left alone and go home...”
Mei, the strongest among them, had fallen too quickly and too easily. Unease spread through the gathered cultivators, who were proactively stepping away from what the inferno hid.
“I just want to go home… and you won’t let me…” The voice continued. Another familiar sound was heard amongst the flames where the being resided. A click. A snap. The weapon was ready again.
“And now you’ve killed my friends.”
Before anyone could speak, a shriek split the heavens.
Something vast tore above them, causing them to duck in fear.
A metal imitation of a large bird screamed overhead, faster than thought, louder than thunder. Wind slammed outward as it halted above the clearing, hovering impossibly, its presence crushing flame and smoke flat against the earth.
Cultivators scattered, diving for cover, instincts screaming danger.
The mysterious force the creature generated pressed the flames down and away.
And Liu saw him.
The ‘mortal’ stood amid the wreckage, unmoving.
Clothing shredded. Flesh torn and hanging. Half his face peeled away, revealing a cold metal skull and false muscles beneath .
Instantly, as Liu saw this creature, her mind erased the words "mortal" and "human" It was replaced with something else.
Demon.
The demon reached up and tore away the bit of burned false flesh that hung loosely from its face. Blue eyes burned where life should exist.
In one hand, the dart thrower still smoked.
In the other, another weapon was drawn of a smaller but bulkier size than the large dart thrower was pulled out.
The demon looked upon them all with cold judgment, the metal bird above ready for command.
“Kill them all.”
------
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Author Notes:
And so we are here! The first true clash of the worlds.
The harden cultivators vs the robot man with a jet! LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR!
Wanna see what happened to Troy before this all went down?
Check it out here! https://www.patreon.com/posts/man-in-spire-3-f-157031924