The Apocalypse is a Side Quest: Book Three, page 16
Eventually, Chad more or less slammed open the doors to the presidential palace, telling him to take a day off. Nathan didn’t feel like pushing his luck.
He tried helping with the planning for the third city, but Bree was adamant that he stay out of it, commenting that he looked like a ghost. Gius was already taking care of setting up the permanent portals across the islands and didn’t need Nathan’s help.
So, being a chronic workaholic with nothing better to do, he decided to work on some of his abilities.
In particular, his new one.
[Ability to ride in a boat]
He sat in a small rowboat on the ocean, staring at the wooden frame with concentration.
“I still don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this ability,” Lily said. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours.”
“A couple of things.” Nathan experimentally accelerated the boat forward, then slowed it down. “First, it’s the only ability I haven’t more or less mastered. Everything else in my arsenal, I have as much control over as I’m going to get. This is the only exception. I can’t help but wonder if…”
“What? Wonder what?”
“If I’d just had one extra ability, maybe Mara wouldn’t have been so badly injured.”
At that, Lily fell silent.
Nathan forced the boat forward, pushing it as fast as it could go. The wind whipped his hair back and stung his eyes, but he remained focused, coaxing another burst of speed from the vessel.
“You spent ages by her side,” Lily said.
“Is that so bad?”
“Did it really matter? I mean, she’s going to die anyway.”
Nathan slowly brought the boat to a stop.
“What are you talking about?”
Lily’s voice turned small. “I just mean… she’ll die eventually. Everything does. That’s just how it is.”
Nathan was quiet for a few seconds. Lily had made comments like this before, and he was starting to understand why. He hadn’t wanted to address it—it felt awkward—but she truly had an alien view of reality. Which made sense. She was a plant. Why would she value life the same way he did?
He gathered his thoughts, trying to figure out how to explain it.
“I guess it doesn’t make rational sense,” he admitted. “You’re not entirely wrong.”
“So why do you care so much?”
“I could turn that back on you. Why do you care?” He let the question hang for a moment. “You know what I mean. You saved my life. You didn’t have to. You could’ve just let me die.”
“But that’s different!” she protested. “You’re… special.”
Nathan wasn’t quite sure how to respond. A small part of his heart warmed at her words, even while he felt confused at her concern.
Truth be told, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was arguing with Lily. Although he wasn’t as callous as her to speak such thoughts allowed, there was no denying that he kept his friends at something of a distance. Even before the apocalypse, he’d spent most of his time cooped up in his room, away from other people.
“I guess they’re special to me,” he said. “Just like how I’m special to you.”
Lily didn’t respond.
Seeing that he wasn’t getting a reply, Nathan turned his attention back to the boat.
There was something he felt he was missing—some exploit he hadn’t found yet. What did the ability actually do? It seemed to make any energy spent maneuvering the boat nearly negligible, as if it barely touched his reserves. It was hyper-efficient, tailored for a very specific purpose.
Nathan wasn’t sensing any immediate offensive applications, but logistically, there had to be something he could do.
He focused on channeling as much of his power as possible into the boat—more than he ever had at once. The boat shot forward, hitting the water so hard the hull creaked and groaned under the strain. More. His reserves didn’t seem exhausted at all.
Come on, come on…
The boat hit a wave, and for a moment, it launched into the air before crashing back down with a hard splash. Nathan frowned and released his energy.
For a second, there had been something there—something about to happen.
“Why didn’t you grab it?”
He turned to Lily. “What are you talking about?”
“Once it left the water, you let the boat go. Why?”
“Because there was nothing underneath it to support it.”
“Yes, there was. And if there wasn’t, you could’ve just made water be underneath it.”
Nathan froze.
“Lily, you might just be a genius.”
She giggled at the compliment. Nathan turned back to the boat and forced his energy into it again. Like before, it accelerated to ridiculous speeds. He gripped the sides and poured everything he had into it. The boat hit another wave and launched into the air.
This time, Nathan seized the water directly beneath the boat and carried it upward with him. The water kept the boat afloat as they climbed higher, the sound of the ocean fading beneath them. The clouds grew closer.
He leveled out the boat so that it was gliding vertically.
Nathan was flying. In a boat.
“This is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done,” he muttered.
He checked his energy reserves. It was draining power, but not nearly as much as usual. He could keep this up for at least an hour. Maybe more
He turned the boat, carving a wide circle through the air. The boat responded smoothly.
An odd urge hit him, and he reached out for the oars. He grabbed them and pulled, and the bolt jolted forward. It seemed that physically pulling the oars seemed to affect the skill somehow.
He looped back, performing a full loop-de-loop before finally descending toward the island—Fort Nathan. He guided the boat down in a steady glide, landing directly on the roof of the watchtower.
The werewolf manning the station poked his head out from below, staring up at Nathan in abject confusion.
“Lord Nathan? How the hell did you—?”
“Hold that thought.”
Nathan’s gaze shifted to one of the pirate ships. How big could he take it? He jumped off the watchtower roof, landing with a grunt on the island. Several people squinted at him in bewilderment as he strode past them toward an unused ship.
He activated the skill, and the ship lurched forward.
“Hey, wait! I was going to use that!” someone shouted from the shore.
“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back in a minute!” Nathan called over his shoulder.
He turned his focus to the horizon, steadily increasing the power flowing into the boat. It accelerated, faster and faster. Nathan gritted his teeth, pushing harder.
The ship lifted into the air.
Then the bottom cracked with a deafening snap.
Nathan blinked. “Oh. That’s not good.”
Water surged through the hole, splintering the ship in half. Gravity reclaimed him, and they plummeted.
On the shore, one of the shipbuilders dropped to their knees, eyes wide with horror.
Nathan sprinted for the railing, grabbed it, and hurled himself clear. Behind him, the ship exploded from the water pressure, debris and shrapnel flying in all directions.
“MY SHIP!” the shipbuilder wailed.
Nathan swam back to shore and awkwardly sidestepped the stunned onlookers gaping at the floating wreckage.
Okay. Looks like I’ve got some fine-tuning to do.
“So these are the prisoners, yeah?”
Nathan shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned sharply. They were underground, in a place damp and dark, surrounded by stone tiles etched with runes—designed to strengthen them and prevent escape.
In front of him stood three shabby-looking people, their eyes fixed on the ground.
“They are, but I needed you to see something.”
Nathan glanced at Anand. He’d pulled him aside, insisting there was something important to show him. And now, here they were.
“You mean the abysmal state of our prison system?”
“No, something much more intriguing. Watch this.”
Anand stepped toward the edge of the cell. Immediately, all three prisoners jerked their heads up and growled like animals. Nathan took a step back. He knew they were no threat, but there was something unsettling in the raw, unfiltered aggression in their gaze.
“Most prisoners aren’t like this,” Anand said. “Many are compliant—some have even expressed interest in joining us. Obviously, we’d need to vet them first. But there’s a handful who react like this. Always the same symptoms: foaming at the mouth, guttural noises. It’s like they’ve lost all sense of themselves.”
Nathan furrowed his brow. “What could it be?”
“I’ve told you before—the Harrowed Hand uses brainwashing techniques. They did it to me. Isolated me, locked me in a dark room, all sorts of dirty tricks.”
Nathan grimaced. “I remember something about that, yeah.”
“But this is different. There’s something else going on. Watch.”
Anand turned and pulled something from his pocket—a mask, shaped to resemble Gabriel. Like, a full-on perfect replica.
“How did you even—?”
“Don’t ask. Just watch.”
He slipped the mask on and turned back toward the prisoners.
Immediately, their expressions shifted. The growling ceased, replaced by eerie neutrality.
Anand removed the mask—and the prisoners snarled again. One even barked.
“What the hell was that?” Nathan demanded.
“I’m not done. I’ll do it again, but this time, pay attention to the mana in the air. See where it’s coming from.”
Nathan hesitated, then turned back to the prisoners. Anand donned the mask once more, and like before, the prisoners fell still, their eyes locking onto him with unsettling precision.
Nathan narrowed his eyes. What was he supposed to be seeing? The ambient mana radiating from the prison’s enchanted bricks made it hard to focus.
“Salute,” Anand commanded.
In unison, the prisoners snapped their hands to their heads in a stiff salute.
Nathan froze.
It had been subtle—almost imperceptible. But for the briefest moment, he’d seen it: a flare of mana emanating from the prisoners’ heads.
“Why…?” His voice dropped. “You think this is some kind of… brainwashing magic?”
“I think that’s exactly what it is.” Anand removed the mask and turned to face Nathan. “There’s no doubt Gabriel is an effective tyrant. He’s well acquainted with all the traditional methods of enforcing compliance. But could that alone account for the sheer level of control he has over his faction? The absolute obedience? No, something else is at work. I think this is it.”
Nathan turned back toward the prisoners. A flicker of sympathy passed through him. There was a good chance many of the people he’d been fighting never had a choice at all.
“Is there a way to remove it from them?”
“I’ve been speaking to Vee. She analyzed the mana’s composition, and it’s a mess. The more we try to remove it using conventional methods, the stronger it becomes. It feeds off magic. Everything we’ve done so far has only made it worse.”
“Damn.” Nathan furrowed his brow. “What if we defeat Gabriel?”
“Unlikely. I doubt Gabriel maintains an active connection to these people across dimensions. The spell operates independently, following a predetermined set of conditions. He might have built in a kill switch—some way to dismantle it—but if so, he’s the only one who knows.”
He paused.
“There is one exception. If the willpower of the person in question is strong enough and they’re exposed to the deception, they might be able to fight it off themselves. But that’s not a reliable method.”
Nathan shook his head. “Why bring me here?”
“To remind you what we’re fighting against. To show you the kind of monster he is.”
Nathan locked eyes with one of the prisoners. Their gaze was bloodshot, furious.
“Record this,” Nathan said.
“Record what?”
“The prisoners. Gather all the evidence and broadcast it to everyone on Dither. Spread it to every member of the Harrowed Hand. They need to know.”
Anand paused. “This may have unintended effects.”
“I know.”
Nathan turned and walked toward the exit.
“Oh, Nathan—one more thing,” Anand called after him. “Mara’s awake and apparently out and about. Chad also found intel on new gear. Might be a good chance for you to get out of town for a while. Take a break from all this.”
Nathan rubbed his chin. “Good to hear. You know what? I think I’m going to do that.”
Clarence stared at the screen, frozen.
This was ridiculous. Brainwashing magic? The idea that Gabriel would stoop to such lengths.
For the greater good—
No, even Gabriel had limits. Taking away people’s autonomy like that… Clarence couldn’t even conceive of it.
He was in his bedroom. Outside, the town was unusually quiet for the evening. Normally, there would be some activity.
His eyes flicked back to the comments counter. Every second, the number grew larger. It had been at 1000 before. Now 1500? This misinformation was spreading like wildfire. Gabriel needed to clamp down on it—fast.
Clarence stood and moved toward the door.
The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway made him freeze.
The door burst open, revealing a haggard soldier.
“Clarence, you have to stop him!” the man shouted.
Clarence stepped back. “Stop who? What are you talking about?”
“When the video spread, some of the guards started acting strange—muttering to themselves. Next thing we knew, they marched up to Gabriel and held him at sword-point!”
“What?!”
“Gabriel beat them—of course he did—but now he’s about to execute them in the public square!”
Clarence paled. He understood brutality had its place, but this? This was all wrong. What could have driven Gabriel to act like this?
He rushed past the guard, sprinting through the Black Spire’s halls toward the exit. The glow of torches in the central square caught his eye. He skidded to a halt.
Five bound men knelt on the ground. Gabriel stood over them, face impassive. But Clarence saw it—something was off. Gabriel’s eyes were too unsteady, occasionally flickering with a strange, dust-like quality. His stillness wasn’t natural. He looked more like a statue than a man.
Behind Gabriel, a scattered crowd of fifty watched with worried faces.
Clarence’s hand twitched forward.
“The five before you attempted to murder me,” Gabriel said, his tone eerily calm. “As their superior, I have the right to punish them as I see fit. In cases of treason or malice, that right includes execution. To make my point clear, I will exercise that right.”
A chill raced down Clarence’s spine. He lunged forward. Gabriel’s gaze slid to him, blank.
“G-Gabriel, what are you doing?” Clarence demanded.
“I’ve already explained my actions and my reasons.”
“But why like this? Publicly? Can’t we take time to—”
“Do not undermine me.”
Clarence’s mouth snapped shut. He tried to speak, but… nothing. His lips wouldn’t move. Like something was sealing them.
How… Why can’t I talk?
What the hell was wrong with Gabriel? This would be a PR disaster. What was he thinking?
Gabriel drew his pike from his inventory. Sweat dripped down Clarence’s neck. His breath came faster, his vision shaking.
He had to stop this. For Gabriel’s own sake.
“For the Hand,” Gabriel said simply, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible double tone.
Like two people were speaking at the same time.
The pike swung. A clean arc.
For a heartbeat, the heads remained in place—then slumped to the ground. Clarence shut his eyes too late, the wet thud of impact searing into his brain.
“Let this warn anyone who questions my judgment,” Gabriel said. “For safety, I will do anything. That is all.”
He stepped over the bodies, pausing beside Clarence.
“Question me like that again,” he murmured, “and you’re next.”
Clarence said nothing.
As Gabriel walked back toward the Black Spire, Clarence caught the faint outline of a figure—shifting, dust-like—momentarily superimposed over Gabriel’s silhouette. The shadow seemed to be wearing Gabriel like a suit, matching his movements with perfect precision.
He squinted, and for just a second, Gabriel’s shadow appeared wrong—too tall, too angular, with strange appendages that didn’t match his human form.
B32?
His mind raced.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Istill don’t understand why you won’t let me use C4 to do this faster.”
Nathan let out a sigh. He, Chad, and Mara were on a sloop. Nathan was near the approximate location where the gear was supposed to be, but so far, they’d found nothing but pieces of metal, wood, algae, and an absolute boatload of tuna.
Nathan’s eyes flickered toward Mara. She seemed much better than before, but the scars were still there. A long, thick, white streak stretched across her shoulder to beneath her shirt. Her face was pale, too, and she seemed to be breathing a bit harder than normal.
“How you feeling?” Nathan asked.
“Fine. A little tired, but that’s never stopped anyone.”
“Your skin was boiled.”
“You had a hole in your chest.”
“I mean, it got patched up.”
“With wood. The—”
