The imposter appeared in the center of the parade ground.
Toru bowed. He did not wish to. He would never willingly have bowed to this wretched thief, but the Pathfinder was controlling his body. Even as he was still being struck by rocks and insults, the greatest indignity of all was that he was forced to offer respect to the real traitor.
The rocks stopped falling. The crowd grew still, awed by the presence of their leader and hero. They spoke in hushed whispers or not at all. This was a day that none of them would ever forget.
Okubo Tokugawa’s face displayed a stern look. He raised his voice so that all could hear. Magic carried his words to the outer edges of the crowd. “Behold Toru, once of the Iron Guard, who has committed the crime of treason. He has been subverted and led astray. He betrayed many of his brothers so that they could be assassinated by the foul Grimnoir. He has been plotting with the Grimnoir in order to murder the son of heaven and the entire council. They would overthrow your lawful rulers. Their organization is evil, and exists only to plunge the world into chaos… What do you have to say for yourself, traitor?”
Toru’s hands moved up to his helmet, opened the seals, and carefully removed it. Of course the imposter would force him to show his face. There could be no doubt of the identity of the man in the armor. Toru wanted to shout the truth, but only lies came out of his mouth. “Your judgment is correct, Lord Tokugawa. The Grimnoir wish to end our civilization. They intend to crush the Imperium. I have been sent by them to murder you.”
“Let it be known by all that Toru is a capable warrior who fought in many righteous conflicts before his fall. He is a Brute, recipient of six war medals, six campaign medals, and fourteen separate commendations for exemplary service. Today he wears the legendary Nishimura armor, granting him even greater strength…”
The masses were frightened. They had faith in their Chairman, but Toru’s legend had grown.
“It will not be sufficient.” The Chairman placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. “I, Baron Okubo Tokugawa, Chairman of the Imperial Council, accept your challenge.”
There were hundreds of gasps from the crowd. Truly, the imposter intended to give the masses the display of heroism they’d hoped for. Toru’s hands lifted the helmet back into place. The forces controlling his limbs were careful not to twist his head off, because an accidental beheading would be an underwhelming finale. Kanji flashed before his eyes as the tetsubo was hoisted from the ground.
Toru charged.
He was so angry he could taste it. The charge was clumsy, full of Power and show, but useless. It was an embarrassment to his skills. The blustering fury would look intimidating to the onlookers, though, which was all Dosan Saito cared about. The imposter easily dodged the tetsubo, again and again, then he reached up, channeling Brute strength and slammed Toru across fifty feet of grass.
He hit the earth and dug a divot. Toru willed himself to spring right back up, but his body took its time, making a great display of how terribly hard the Chairman had struck him. LIES!
They circled. Toru saw half a dozen different angles of attack, but his body would not listen. He attacked wildly, spinning, swinging, with big flashy movements and overhead blows that blasted showers of dirt high into the air.
The Chairman’s face was expressionless, nearly bored as he moved far faster than was humanly possible. He was demonstrating to those harboring doubts that he truly was the greatest wizard of all time. Behold as I toy with the terrifying Toru. Then the Brute magic switched to that of a Massive, and the imposter froze in place, willing his body as hard as steel.
The tetsubo impacted with a hit that radiated down the shaft, through the armored gauntlets, and through Toru’s bones. The crowd came to their feet.
But when the dust cleared, the Chairman was still standing there, completely unharmed. He lifted one hand and a gout of fire leapt from his hands, engulfing Toru. The Nishimura suit sounded an alarm. Toru wanted to fight through it, but his body flailed back wildly instead. He was struck with ice, then lightning. Gravity changed, and Toru was falling into the sky.
The imposter leapt, intercepted Toru in mid-air, and slammed a golden, glowing fistful of magical energy into his chest. Toru hit the ground so hard that everything went black.
If he hadn’t been a master of gravity, density, and mass, Sullivan was pretty darn sure he would’ve passed out seconds after jumping off the Traveler.
Jake Sullivan had done some dangerous shit in his life, but surely this took the cake.
He began spinning, harder and harder. Blood rushed through his system. Sullivan just concentrated and willed himself dense. Blood goes where I tell it to go. It was a good thing he was so analytical under pressure… I’m going clockwise. He adjusted gravity’s direction slightly, pulling himself gradually out of the spin. That’s better.
He could’ve made himself light as a feather and slowed himself down, but spending extra time in a place with no warmth or atmosphere wasn’t a particularly inviting idea. The runes Browning had carved into the Spiker armor were glowing, keeping him from freezing, but he didn’t have a whole lot of faith in the fragile oxygen tank. What the hell? Let’s see what this thing can do. He tucked his arms into his sides, put his feet together, pointed his helmet at Shanghai, and increased gravity’s pull.
It was like being launched from a cannon.
Sullivan streaked through the upper atmosphere. The sky went from black to dark blue. It felt like he could see half the Chinese coast from here. He picked out the blue line of the river and followed it with his eyes. Shanghai was the cluster of grey and black lines in all that organic green, brown, and blue. The city covered a big area, but he had plenty of time to pick out landmarks and tug himself toward the correct destination.
His Power was burning hot, analyzing all of the forces, pulls, and friction, but his new magic seemed to be keeping up. Earth was pulling him in, so he reached out, took hold, and willed it to pull even harder. This was what a speeding bullet felt like. Sullivan’s body was moving faster than sound waves.
He’d have to check the record books, but he was pretty sure he was the first man to go faster than sound. He’d read a Popular Mechanics once saying that was impossible, because a man’s innards would blow up if he went that fast, but Sullivan figured he was about as pliable as a bar of iron right about then, so there really wasn’t much that could hurt him.
Except for hitting Shanghai at six hundred miles an hour. That would probably do it.
He had to admit, it was scary as hell, but it was kind of exhilarating.
The Spiker armor was holding up, because John Browning was the greatest inventor in the history of the whole wide world. It wasn’t just on his body, but the magical connection made it practically an extension of his body, and when he went dense, so did it, and steel was a whole lot tougher than flesh to start with.
But then the oxygen bottle ruptured with a pop. That was a bad sign. Sullivan held his breath and pulled even harder. By the time he needed to take a breath, he’d damn well better be someplace where there was actually air to fill his lungs.
Once he’d gotten the ocean on the right, he oriented himself toward his target. He’d memorized a map of the city, and all it took was a bit of concentration to shift gravity’s pull every few seconds to correct his course. He used the river as his compass and shifted gravity’s center toward the correct end of the town.