The Coward and the Wolf Ch. 05

In an ideal world Steve would have instantly whipped out the handgun and blown Kaltek into next week with a witty one liner. Apparently in lizard-kin society a duel starts the second the challenge is uttered and accepted by the one being challenged, so such a series of events could have indeed have transpired in an ideal world. Steve did not live in an ideal world. To be honest, he lived in a pretty shit one.

In true 'shit world' fashion Kaltek had responded to Steve's challenge by roaring, drawing his sword and kicking Steve across the room before Steve had even had the chance to figure out which of the buttons on the gun was the safety. Assuming it had a safety and not a self-destruct button. Or that this was even a gun, and not say, a welding tool, or a tic tac dispenser. Steve may not have had lightning fast reflexes, but his ability to think of worst case scenarios was second to none.

His train of thought was unfortunately interrupted by him coming into conflict with a dining table, and then the floor once said table collapsed under the unexpected strain of having someone land on it. Shoddy craftsmanship, to be sure.

Steve was relatively unharmed because of the amazing protective properties of his suit. He quckly came to appreciate his suit all the more because of the gigantic lizard man now bearing down on him with a sword big enough to kill a small elephant.

He looked frantically around for support, only to see Sarah and the now apparently un-possessed Saltek looking on from the sidelines with smug expressions, as if any second now Steve would destroy Kaltek with the ease of an angry god. If they thought anything was wrong, they certainly weren't showing it.

Steve realized belatedly that if he was getting his ass-kicked they would rationalize it as him playing with his opponent. In the long term this would benefit him, but right now he would much rather not be sodomized by a broadsword. It would really put a damper on any long term plans he would like to make.

He could hardly ask for help and not expect to get himself killed for appearing weak later down the line, so asking for help wasn't really an option. It was a choice of possible death now verses pretty much guaranteed death later. Not exactly two option Steve would like to picking from, but what could he do about it. Die most likely.

The other party goers had moved to the walls of the room with practiced ease, creating a ring of bodies around Steve and Kaltek. Duels to the death must not have been all that uncommon at these events. The whole 'swords and armor' thing was beginning to make a lot more sense in Steve's mind. He also made sure to not attend any parties in future. Sure he would miss the witty banter and pleasant atmosphere, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to accept 'a sword through the gut' as a possible outcome to a pleasant evening's festivities. He was just old fashioned like that.

Steve leaped to his feet and remembering his experience with far too many back alley brawls and prepared to duck under the next sweep of Kaltek's blade.

The blade came in. Steve ducked. The blade ducked too. Steve learned to fly once more. Steve collided with a patch of floor about a meter from his initial standing location.

On the bright side the sword hadn't taken his unhelmeted head off, on the other hand Steve now understood the vast gulf between a back alley beat down and fighting a well-trained veteran warrior.

He may not have liked the situation, but he was far from completely defenseless, and it wasn't the first time he was up against an opponent who outclassed him. He had a few tricks up his sleeve.

He may not have had any formal martial training or be a massive behemoth, but he did have a nigh invulnerable suit of flexible light armor, a wealth of experience fighting dirty and a flexible mind, which if he judged correctly Lord Kaltek had never before experienced.

Steve knew what to expect from his opponent, Kaltek had no idea what Steve could and could not do. Kaltek was likely waiting for Steve to use the 'spear of the gods' and blow him into next week, which was making him needlessly aggressive in his attack. Or maybe the dude always fought like he had a hot poker up his ass?

Steve looked at the handgun that was basically just dead weight in his hand at the moment. He would have liked to use the it to save his ass, but he couldn't really find the time to discover which combination of clicks, buttons and trigger pulls made it go bang, while someone was waving a sword at him.

The handgun may not have been as complex as a rubix cube, but with someone trying to jab him with a pointy bit of metal while he fiddled with it, it may as well have been.

The lizard-kin charged in again, intent on finishing what he must have assumed was a wounded opponent. Steve rose up into a crouch as the blade came down intent on splitting his skull open. Steve rose up one hand open palmed to block it and prayed his rapid planning paid off. He didn't need to do much, just buy enough time for him to figure out how to work the gun.

The sword impacted squarely with Steve's upraised palm and Steve reflexively gripped it as the suit instantly hardened all the way down the arm right through to his feet. It was like being incased in solid rock. The only place left unaffected by the suits hardening was Steve's right arm, which was not required to contribute to the solidity of the suit. The same right hand that also currently held the pistol.

Kaltek began trying to pry the blade free as Steve started fiddling with the pistol in one hand. If Kaltek had been a little less terrified of being smote down by a being that appeared completely impervious to harm, he might have let go of the blade and punched Steve in the face. As it was his attempts to free his sword only resulted in the suit retaining its rock solid state.

Steve felt a smug sense of superiority as the lizard-kin struggled against Steve's iron grip. Steve may not have been able to move, but with Kaltek immobilized now just had to calmly figure out how to use the gun an- Smack!

Steve felt his nose crumple, and the spray of warm blood over his mouth and chin as his body fly backward. It probably looked pretty comical considering the suit was only now softening as Kaltek had let go of the sword and punched Steve in his unarmored face.

Kaltek was a quicker learner than Steve had given him credit for. On the bright side now Steve had a sword. Also a broken nose. The second thing didn't seem nearly as helpful.

Steve landed once more in a crumpled heap on the floor, one hand holding the gun, the other the blade of Kaltek's sword. Steve was happy to now own a weapon for which its usage was a relatively simple of system of stick the pointy end in the other guy. A broken nose was a small price to pay for such a boon.

Not to say that Steve didn't feel like crying over the loss of his dashing good looks, as well as the smarting pain that only crushed bones mashing together can summon, just that he prioritized increased survivability over his vanity. After all, it was quite difficult to be appreciated for the devilishly attractive man that you are when you're dead.

The only issue Steve could see was that even if he had a sword, Kaltek's armor was specifically designed to stop pointy things like swords going into it. Kaltek himself had likely been trained to avoid pointy things going into him. Steve had no training on how to put pointy things into people. So other than removing Kaltek's advantage, Steve really hadn't gotten all that much of a leg up on the competition. Life was hard when you were not secretly a black belt kendo master. Did kendo practitioners even have black belts? It was a mystery he may never know the answer to.

Focus.

Steve's musings on the subject were abruptly interrupted by the realization that the throbbing pain in his nose had abruptly stopped. The steady stream of blood had stopped too. Hooray for small mercies.

A quick check with the back of his right hand confirmed that all the damage to Steve's previously pulped nose had been healed. His dashing good looks would survive to see the morrow. Provided of course Steve survived to see the morrow.

Steve shakily regained his footing and held the blade at arm's length in the direction of his opponent, holding Kaltek at bay, more with Kaltek's belief that Steve would actually be able to hurt him than any reality that Steve actually could. This technique was also known as bluffing.

The lizard-kin Lord seemed a bit lost without his weapon, and was content to circle around Steve searching for an opening. Steve was happy for the breathing room, though he didn't dare take his eyes off Kaltek. It was a standoff, and one that made Steve happy for his magically increased muscle mass, otherwise he likely never would have been able to hold the ridiculously heavy sword at arm's length for any length of time.

Steve started trying to think of possible causes for his insane increase in healing ability. It was kind of relevant considering he was in a fight to the death.

The most obvious cause he could think of was because of all the sods watching the fight. If they had seen him endure a number of sword blows without harm, it was only natural they would think 'Oh, he must be invincible.'

Yep, that theory was solid.

Running with that theory, it was entirely possible they didn't know Steve's 'invincibility' was the result of his armor. After all how many of them would have actually seen armor like this before? If there were only five sets in the world, they would be well guarded, and it was likely that none of them would have ever seen the armor in person before or know that it had such amazing protective abilities.

In that case it would look like Steve was enduring sword blows unharmed, while only wearing thin fabric.

Ipso facto, the crowd thinks 'The Human is invincible', their magic rushes to try and make the concept a reality. Steve gets near instant healing, Pseudo invincibility. Steve would have preferred 'actual invincibility' but beggars can't be choosers.

It was a rough theory but Steve couldn't think of any other reason for his healing increasing so much in such a short period of time, when before it had been a relatively slow process.

The idea that the crowd was magically influencing the fight certainly gave Steve an idea though.

He may have no idea how Talia and Bridget used magic, but he did know that if a Sapherosian believed something, and if enough of them believed the same thing, then reality would bend itself to conform to that belief.

Talia's use of symbols must have been a way of focusing that belief. Steve himself knew he was a symbol of sorts. That was why he could feel the magical changes to his body. The Sapherosians had a preconceived notion as to what a 'human' was, which resulted Steve body being warped to conform to that belief.

If that really was the case then why Steve wasn't the fighter the Sapherosian's must believe him to be?

He looked at the gun and sword in his hands. He certainly didn't feel that he had any knowledge on how to use them effectively. He glanced at the gun. Then the sword. Then at Kaltek who had moved a bit closer during his brief distraction.

The lizard-kin was calmly watching the sword, but more often than was really necessary he would glance nervously at the gun.

An idea began to form in Steve's mind. The humans that came before him didn't use swords. The humans that came before him used guns or 'spears of the gods', why would a Sapherosian fear a human with a sword? They wouldn't. Well they might, but they would probably fear one with a gun much more.

He also wouldn't fear a human who was bare handed. A Sapherosian would fear a human wielding the weapons that made them legends. The weapons that they used to destroy all warriors that came before them. The same weapon Steve was holding right now.

If Steve couldn't physically use the gun, he could certainly symbolically use it.

Steve exhaled and tried to calm himself. He dropped the sword with a loud clatter. Kaltek took a half step forward before Steve raised the gun, causing Kaltek to freeze utterly.

The change in the fight's dynamic was so fast, it even shocked Steve. He could instantly feel the familiar tingling of energy on the tips on his fingers as the Sapherosians came to believe that Steve was going to kill Kaltek. Steve just needed to push that idea a bit harder.

"Enough games Kaltek, Lord of House Tek!" Steve injected as much authority as he could into his voice, "Time to die!"

Oh how cliché. Steve would never hear the end of it if Talia ever got wind of this.

The room was utterly silent. The air crackled with forces that were beyond comprehension, even by those who unwittingly summoned them. The wind whipped round the room, even though their were no windows or doors open.

It was all very dramatic.

This only made sense because that's exactly how the Sapherosians expected it to be. Steve could have done with his hair not standing on ends with static electricity, but 'beggars can't be choosers'.

At this point he wouldn't have been surprised if his eyes started glowing, which he most definitely preferred did not happen because it would make the whole 'aiming' thing a lot harder.

Steve was snapped out of his musing when the magical energy that had been floating round the room suddenly ripped into his mind like a cold storm through his thoughts, completely submerging any relevant witticism under a blanket of soul numbing pain. He could barely resist the urge to scream in agony as he felt all his doubts torn away like leaves being stripped from a tree.

He was dying. He knew the power was killing him, his body was fine, but he could feel his mind being yanked, twisted and reshaped by this unstoppable alien force. If someone had stuck a vacuum cleaner into his grey matter, he doubted it could possibly feel worse than this.

Steve desperately clutched at the last remnants of his sense of self only to feel that slip away from his gradually feebler grasp, until even his knowledge of why he was resisting was plucked from him.

All that was left was the hard truth that Steve truly did stand a god amongst mortals. He was human. Humans were gods. The god that was Steve didn't know how he hadn't realized this obvious truth until now.

It mattered not what the small voice in the back of his head screamed; he was Thor with his hammer. He was Zeus with his lightning. He was Samson with his sling and the Devil with his pitchfork all rolled into one. He was a god. He was judgment!

He spoke with the authority of a god to the lizard-man that stood trembling before him.

"Die."

Blue lightning leapt forth from the spear of the gods with a thunderclap that seemed to shake the ground itself. There was no recoil; the lightning didn't even come from the barrel of the gun. It simply leapt from a random surface of the weapon and arced round to its target.

The weapon wasn't actually firing. The god named Steve had no more knowledge on how the gun worked than he had when he first received it. The Sapherosian's in the room had seen Steve raise the gun and state his intent to kill. That was all it took.

When they had seen a weapon from legend aimed at a mere mortal, they had believed without a doubt that the weapon would kill Kaltek. Now their magic was rushing to conform that belief to reality. The whole room stunk of the smell of ozone.

The weapons firepower was taking the form of what the Sapherosians believed the gun should fire based on the stories passed down over the centuries about the first human explorers. The most direct comparison for a primitive culture to the destructive, loud and flashy gunfire of a modern firearm.

Lightning.

The first bolt lanced right through Kaltek, blowing a hole clean through his chest, killing him instantly. The second shot vaporized his left leg below the knee. The third his head. By the time his body hit the floor the fourth shot had blown an arm clean off his body.

The god named Steve enjoyed his handiwork for a second or two, before putting a few more blasts into the smoking twitching corpse until it was little more than a shapeless pile of burnt meat on the floor.

The god named Steve turned to the terrified and stunned audience. Only his loyal servant Sarah stood completely unafraid of him, if anything she looked was looking at him with a dreamy expression on her face. As was correct.

He was annoyed. He was a god, so why was no one bowing to him. He was sure they would bow once he roasted a few of them, he just needed to prove he was the strongest and they would bow.

The voice in his head was screaming even louder now. The god named Steve was confused, he was sure the voice should be important somehow, but he didn't know why.

It didn't matter, he was sure he would remember in time, first though he would start building his empire on the bodies of those weaker than him. He turned to the onlookers and raised the gun, fully prepared to fry a horse-woman that was looking at him most insolently.

Then he farted...

...Gods didn't fart.

It really was obscenely loud in the quiet room. To say the tension in the scene was ruined was something of an understatement. Sarah looked like she was about to start giggling.

Steve instantly felt his mind returning to normal. It was like the feeling of having heat return to your limbs after a local anesthetic wears off. If all your limbs had been set on fire. Then dipped in balsamic vinegar.

He would like to say it was a pleasant sensation, but it was more like someone had scrubbed the inside of his head with sandpaper then took a shit.

Surviving a 'mind rape' was its own reward though. It had taken all of his remaining thought processes to summon that fart. In reality he had been planning to crap his pants in order to break the magical hold on his thought processes. It had been a 'Better skid marks in my pants, than skid marks in my mind' moment.

Steve didn't actually know if breaking the tension in the room would break the magic's hold on him, but it had seemed a solid theory, and at the time he didn't have very many options. He had felt his mind slipping away like so much confetti in the wind with every breath he took. Not fun. Not fun at all.

He made a note to prioritize thinking of some countermeasures for 'mind rape' the next chance he got. To be honest, he really should have thought of some prior to now, but a rickety carriage did not make the best place for unraveling the secrets of the universe, and his arrival in the lizard-kin capital had immediately resulted in him getting sent to this wonderful party.

It was becoming more and more evident that the greatest threats to him were not physical, but magical. Hell, it was his own attempt to save himself from a physical threat that had damn near got his whole mind sucked out of his head.

He was entirely sure the goddesses had learned some defense against negative magical effects on themselves. Talia wouldn't have been so self-aware of her position in the world unless she could stop her people's beliefs from making her think she 'actually' was a god.

He didn't however want to ask for aid from them. It would leave him entirely vulnerable to attack from whichever goddess he learned from. He was also sure that they would know a way to penetrate their own defenses. Steve knew he would make sure he knew a backdoor to any defense he gave away to someone else.

He had a few ideas for magical defenses but he was going to need a test subject. A sentient test subject. The thought made him distinctly uncomfortable, but he knew he would do it anyway.

If he loved himself enough to risk letting his finally memories be him shitting himself, then he was entirely willing to take the risk of taking a dump in someone else's mind to save his own. What was the saying 'Shit rolls downhill?' It wasn't like he was being unfair. Talia and Bridgett had both been screwing him with magic from the second he had arrived.