Thank you, father.
He could no longer see the imposter through the cascade of dirt. Toru willed the Nishimura armor to move, and this time it did. The tetsubo erupted from the ground and swept through the air in a blur of steel, and he felt it hit the imposter, sweeping him aside like a rowboat before a tsunami.
The impact sent the imposter flying. Toru forced himself up and out of the hole his body had dug. He took a halting step, awkward to be in control of his muscles again, and then stumbled and went to his knees as a terrible agony ripped through is head. He was barely able to get one hand up to pull open his mempo. Flying grit struck him in the face, but he had to. He leaned forward and retched.
The vile black liquid he’d been exposed to had been alive. Now that it was dead, his body was forcefully expelling it. Toru coughed and hacked, spitting up chunks of the foul stuff. It tasted like lethal chemicals. It poured out of his nose like snot, fell from his eyes like tears, and dripped from his ears. It burned, but he was glad for the burn, because that meant he was free.
He spit, wiped his face with the back of one gauntlet hard enough to split his lip, and then closed the mempo back up. He was thankful for the smell of stale cigarettes, because anything was better than the stench of the Pathfinder’s mind-controlling ooze.
The dust was settling. Iron Guard were rushing onto the parade grounds to intercept him. Most of them were human, but as the second sun flickered over them, several were clearly revealed for what they were, sacks of human skin filled with pulsating corruption. The human Iron Guard recoiled in horror as their brothers’ true nature was laid bare before them.
The imposter was rising. Dosan Saito was not the Chairman, but the Pathfinder had built him a strong body, and he’d absorbed the magical essence of hundreds of powerful Actives. He was a deadly foe, and he was already rising, channeling the Power of a Shard in order to quickly warp his splintered bones back into place, and the Power of the Healer to knit together his ruined flesh. Toru could see the Pathfinder’s alien presence resting upon Saito. It engulfed him, it rode upon his shoulders, its invisible tentacles stuck into Saito’s ears to whisper its secrets. Other tentacles crisscrossed Saito’s head, embedding themselves into his eye sockets so that he could only see what the Pathfinder wished him to see.
And then the scalding second sun was pointed elsewhere, the Pathfinder disappeared, and Dosan Saito once again appeared to be the Chairman.
The explosion had dug a crater in the field. Something moved, lifting itself from the center of the hole. A gleaming white skull appeared, followed by a steel body.
Very nice, Heavy.
“Destroy them!” Dosan Saito ordered with the Chairman’s voice. “Destroy them!”
But the world had plunged into chaos. Thousands of Imperium citizens were trying to escape the grounds. Some of the Iron Guard rushed toward Sullivan or Toru, while others hesitated, confused. A few had witnessed the truth from the second sun, and they turned against the infiltrators. Brother against brother, as Iron Guards attacked the corrupted. Other Iron Guards who had not seen the truth were baffled by their brothers’ seeming treachery.
A brave Iron Guard tried to strike down an infiltrator wearing the uniform of the Chairman’s personal bodyguard, but was tackled by some of his brothers. “Did you not see! It is as we’ve been taught!” He fought off those holding him and lurched toward the infiltrator. The false Iron Guard turned and stabbed the human in the stomach with his katana. Undeterred, he crawled up the blade, grabbed the infiltrator by the face, and ripped the mask away. “Behold!” He spit blood as the infiltrator tore the sword free. The sword flashed, and the courageous Iron Guard’s head rolled away.
The infiltrator’s true nature was revealed. The torn skin lay across his uniform like a scarf. It had a face beneath a face, bare muscle pulsing red and black under a translucent shell.
The Iron Guard had been taught about such beings since they were inducted into the academy as children. Their worst fears had just been realized.
There were gasps and shouts from the assembled Iron Guard as they pushed their way through the crowd. Bodies were hurled aside as the infiltrator tried to hide its corruption, lifting the torn skin like a mask. The infiltrator was struck by crackling lightning, burst into flames, and was then ripped in half by an Iron Guard who had forced himself to grow claws of bone. Flaming black corruption sprayed across the grass.
“The Grimnoir are in league with the Pathfinder!”
“Alert the high command!”
“Protect the Chairman! Slay the Enemy! Slay the Grimnoir!”
Toru lifted the tetsubo and strode toward Saito. The imposter’s guise had slipped. “There is no Pathfinder here! They seek to trick you!” Saito was panicking, realizing that the Grimnoir had twisted his own words against him to reveal his lies. The real Chairman would never panic, and that offended Toru even more. Saito was focused on using his magic to heal himself, so he wasn’t even broadcasting his voice so that all could hear. “It is a Grimnoir trick!”
Sullivan had done well. Word would spread, faster than the imposter could stop it. All that remained was to destroy the imposter before he could rein in the righteous mission of Dark Ocean.
Jake Sullivan crawled out of the crater he’d dug with his face. When the lightning had come streaking his way, he’d called on all the gravity and density he could to get the hell out of the way. He’d fallen through a train car once, even survived being stomped on by a demon god, and that hadn’t been anything compared to this. The amount of earth he’d moved with just his body was rather awe-inspiring. That was one damn fine spell on his back.
The goal had been to alert the Iron Guard, and as he poked his head over the side, he’d seen Fuller’s device do its job, revealing the monsters inside. Between that and his words, the Iron Guard had immediately started hacking each other to pieces, so mission accomplished. They knew the Pathfinder was on Earth, and once that hunt started, those merciless bastards wouldn’t let up until they’d exterminated ever single infiltrator.
Only problem was, now they thought he was the Pathfinder.
If he’d flat out said that the Chairman was the bad guy, nobody would have believed him. He needed to give them something plausible to latch onto, and a man’s preconceived notions were a powerful thing.
Toru was gunning for Saito, but much as he’d like to help, a whole mess of Iron Guard were heading for Sullivan. He called on his Power, and gravity bent outward in a wave. The amount used was unexpected, and a wall of pure force crashed out across the lawn, flattening Iron Guard and Imperium citizens. The sudden shift in gravity caused the recently constructed stand’s supports to buckle and snap. The seats came crashing down. Those who had still been inside were tossed aside or crushed beneath.
Sullivan made himself weigh nothing, and he launched himself out of the crater in a spray of rocks. Reaching over his shoulder, he found the BAR and ripped it from the straps. He returned to his normal weight as he hit the ground. The bullpup came up spitting .30-06 rounds.
There were Iron Guards everywhere, they all thought he was the devil incarnate, and they were doing their level best to kill him. Bullets struck his armor. Burning heat and freezing cold washed over him, but Browning’s runes kept them from reaching his skin. The insulation kept the electricity from burrowing through his skin. The BAR came sweeping around, and he pumped bullet after methodical bullet into charging soldiers.