Page 22 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

As soon as we breached the bubble-barrier, everything happened in the blink of an eye. Maria flew to the nearest tree as planned and I created her a portal out of thin air.

There was no time for relief when I saw her vanish though, as the first row of Radicals surged forward without hesitation.

I blocked the first attacker with my left arm, while flexing my right forearm, shooting my cloaked Skindo out from my tattoo. Channeling my energy, I released it from my grasp, translating it to the other side of the terrain, where it could engage independently.

With a swift kick, I sent several Radicals stumbling into their cronies, knocking them off balance.

Their bodies slammed into one another, creating an opening for me to exploit.

I moved swiftly, delivering precise strikes with a flurry of punches and kicks, left and right, aiming for any vulnerable spot I could find.

And then it all turned to chaos. Arms and legs were attacking me from every side but all of them were all very untrained and more occupied with their own fear than with any form of strategy.

They made several attempts to hit me with their translation, but their interface was so slow, evading them was child's play.

Meanwhile, tethered to my energy, my weapon was hovering across the field and I felt the familiar itch crawling beneath my skin.

Occupying my own hands and feet in close combat with the first row, I directed my focus inward and released my Skindo’s blades with a mental command.

In less than half a minute, it swiftly dispatched the back row, their heads rolling off their necks before the Radicals in front even realized I had effortlessly decimated a fifth of their ranks with a “brain-sneeze”.

I heard some rustling behind me.

“Don’t move,” I hissed to George and his “protectors”, as the next wave of Radicals lunged for me. Their punches came fast and wild, but I deflected them effortlessly, turning their blind aggression into my advantage.

I slammed my elbow into one's jaw, causing him to stumble back, while a brutal kick sent another one reeling, I sidestepped the next one coming at me, evading his blow and immediately countering with a powerful jab to his midsection.

Ducking under another assailant's swing, I delivered a crushing knee to his stomach. With a quick spin, I blocked another Radical’s kick and countered with a powerful roundhouse of my own, sending him staggering backward.

The next one came at me like a rabid dog, but I put him down quick, a brutal slice across his throat. Bodies piled up as I fought my way through, each one falling to the ground in a bloody mess.

And when they went down, they stayed down.

It was too obvious; even though they heavily outnumbered me, they were no match for me.

By the time I had fought off the entire first row, the duck blades had sliced the throats of the entire second row in the back.

This, however, did not go unnoticed. As if a signal had been triggered, the remaining rows surged forward all at once, from all directions, their faces contorted with hate, their murderous intentions unmistakable. The searing heat in my chest intensified, yet I held my ground.

They were too many to take out at once, so close combat was out. I focused instead on translating , tapping into my anger, lurking right beneath the surface. For years, my “rage haze” had been controlling me rather than the other way around—but now, it did my bidding like a cheap whore.

And so I let it out of its cage like a feral animal starving for freedom yet restrained by an unyielding leash.

Heat. I need heat.

My hands were still as steady as a rock when my first wave of translation collided with all the Radicals it could find.

Some of them burned on the spot, some of them melted and some of them incinerated so fast, it wasn’t clear what exactly had been done to them, leaving the rest of them staring at me in shock.

As cries of pain filled the air, disbelief started manifesting on their faces; how was I still standing and how had they lost over half their numbers in less than ten minutes?

I could’ve translated away the blood on my hands and clothes but I wore it proudly like badge of honor. My breaths were a bit heavy, but I flashed them a wicked grin, letting them in on my insanity like it was a dirty little secret.

That seemed to have finally done it, as a few of those last standing Radicals, disoriented and disheartened by the losses they had suffered, began to waver.

There were those who hesitated in their approach, unsure of whether they should continue, and others simply surrendered. A better man might have shown them mercy but I was no better man.

These people had challenged me, had threatened my Leader, and had attacked me with numbers to obliterate. They wouldn’t have shown me mercy if it were the other way around.

So I did what I did best: I slaughtered them all. And I didn’t give a shit.

I snapped their necks with my bare hands and cut out their bowels with my duck blades.

The Radicals fell one by one, until only silence remained in the wake of the battle. The whole thing was over in less than fifteen minutes.

My body, covered in blood, dirt and sweat, was aching but the adrenaline had numbed most of the pain. I summoned the Skindo back into my tattoo.

Breathing heavily, I turned around facing George and his “disciples”, all looking at me in complete shock.

Like I was the monster.

Really?

I had saved them from fifty hostiles, taken it upon myself to kill them all so they wouldn’t have to lift a fucking finger, and now I was the monster?

I rolled my eyes at them, not really feeling the need to listen to some judgmental crap about non-lethal alternatives.

Not bothering to say goodbye, I portaled back quickly to the Basilica right before the sun came up, where the Maumars were still waiting for me, which was actually pretty nice of them.

The look on their faces when I appeared through the portal though. I must’ve looked?—

“James!” Maria shrieked with the same shock in her voice as Maurice carried on his face. He brought his hand slowly to his lips, covering his mouth to ensure he wouldn’t scream.

I noticed the blood, mixed with my sweat, dripping to the floor.

“Don’t worry, none of it is mine,” I said coolly to the Maumars, who were gaping at my bloody clothes in horror, as I swiftly translated away the gore.

“You okay?” I asked Maria hurriedly.

She nodded, reaching for Maurice’s hand.

“Think he caught on?”

Maria shook her head. “No, you were perfect.”

Before I could thank her for the unexpected compliment, blue drops started forming over my Nexus, turning into Emma’s face. Bad timing.

I quickly dismissed the drops without bothering to read her message. The irony of chewing her out her for mauling a guy in a public restroom less than twenty-four hours before decimating a small—very small—village, wasn't lost on me.

The reality of Emma did however hit me like a tsunami and I remembered with a certain urgency I had to alert the Maumars, and by extension the Council, of her existence.

And, more importantly, of her non-traceable translation, which—in light of the recent information on Radicals fighting the Great Exposure—could be very problematic.

It would all come down to timing. My timing to tell the Maumars would have to be on the nose. I couldn’t afford to make any error in judgement as far as that was concerned. Timing, timing, timing.

"Anyway, on a completely different note... I stumbled onto something pretty out of the ordinary that needs your attention."

Yeah, my timing? Kind of sucked.