Durge: Hierarchy (Ch. 6)

The Dead Masters - Durge: Hierarchy

He was late. Almost.

It was another rush to the school. Durge couldn't help but wonder if this was just bad luck acquired because of the contact of a devilish being. Still, the mysterious thrill he felt the day before didn't cease to exist in this mass run. Mass run because many angry people, screaming and cursing, were on his tail. Traders who had their stalls destroyed because of Durge rash action when he met such place on his way, were throwing stones and everything they could find. Still, a normal trader could not catch up with the speed of athletic and devilishly enhanced Durge. Soon they lost sight of him.

Durge didn't know that the mass had already been left behind, for fear of getting caught once he looked back and slowed down. Again, he barely had time to slip between the already closing gate, and without hesitation he ran as quickly as he could to his classroom. However, in the corridor his run was disrupted as he bumped into a student. They both fell to the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing!?"

The student that he had bumped into was actually a delinquent. It was indeed a contrasting encounter; the model student Durge and the thug of the school. Soon enough, Durge realized that the thug was accompanied by a full house of thugs. Many of them were wearing earrings and piercing, and none of them showed a gleeful face, but indeed a glare full of hatred. It wasn't hard to figure out that the thug he bumped into was the leader.

"Dude, you're in my way!"

In the old days, Durge would always deal with such situation swiftly and simply walked away from them. However, the Durge today was persistent in blaming the delinquent. Those words practically slipped out of his mouth, as if he hadn't thought about it one bit.

"What the hell!? You wanna fight!?" The delinquent, now steadily standing and taking a stance to pounce, challenged Durge into a fist fight; a glare that could scare even the bravest among student. However, Durge grinned as he stood up, readied his fists. "Heh, I'm ready when you are."

Such encounter had attracted quite a lot of crowd, and they were circling both Durge and the thugs, now waiting to witness the most unbelievable battle. Only after noticing such crowd did Durge thought through what he had done. He had no experience in a real street fight, for he knew violence only resulted in pain and a void sense of victory. Moreover, he knew that such event would strip him from his status as a model student, even worse after being late yesterday. However, even the slightest regret could not be found in his eyes; it wasn't bad to be a delinquent sometimes, he thought to himself.

The large crowd might irritated the delinquent, or he might took pride in winning the fight fast and earn reputation from such witnesses, or whatever the reason was, he charged forward, right fist ready to hit Durge. However, with a slight movement to the right Durge could evade the attack. He even caught the delinquent by the wrist, and sent a counterattack to the delinquent's stomach.

The delinquent groaned and retreated, holding his stomach. It didn't seemed like the delinquent was planning to attack the second time, so Durge took initiative. He sent a kick to the delinquent's face, not realising that the delinquent was planning on a counterattack from Durge's action. The delinquent tilted his body so that his face was out of the range of Durge's kick by a few centimetre, and then charged forward, seeing an opening. However, Durge was fast enough to reverse the direction of his kicks, and even before his kicking foot reaches the ground, he kicked with the other foot, his body floating in mid-air for a moment. His body was spinning as a result of the two consecutive kicks, and he couldn't get himself to land on his foot. The delinquent was already down on the ground, his jaw broken by the kick.

While the crowd was amazed by the incredible move Durge pulled out, the thugs were not impressed, and they started to surround Durge. Standing up, Durge showed a grin of joy; perhaps he actually enjoyed the fight? Facing such overwhelming number of opponent, he couldn't expect to win unless he used the power of the demon; the black spear. Durge considered using it, but then decided that using such weapon would be 'no fun'. Strange; for once after a long time he considered his own idea of fun. He then let out a howl before the thugs attacked him.

And of course; he lost.

The next thing he knew was that he was lying on the bed. It was a room of pure white, with windows connecting the room to a well-kept garden, allowing chirps of birds to augment the tranquility. It was truly a heavenly sight, if not for the girl with the fierce glare, clearly unhappy.

"What was that for?"

"What was what for?"

"The fight," she answered, folding her arms in displeasure. She the sighed, for what was in the past could never be changed. She continued, "It really isn't like you to be intimidated, let alone to intimidate such delinquent."

"Wise people know that they don't know everything, and thus will try new things." Durge was trying to be funny, but that didn't work. It was lame, indeed, and the situation they were in clearly made such joke out of place. It was a serious matter regarding the influence of the vile power, of the weapon of doom. It might affect the wielder psychologically, consuming the mind and feeding it into chaos. However, it had only been two days; too short for such influence to affect Durge.

Whatever else that was about to continue Valentine's train of thoughts, was overwhelmed by the loud bang of a rifle's barrel. Though it wasn't her sharp auditory sense, but rather a mysterious instinct that told her to dodge to the right, she was still too late to fully avoid such thunderous strike; she felt her right ear burnt, and although no real wound was scarred on her, it left her senses obstructed. Lightning flashed across Durge's vision, a pure, blinding lightning so close to him that it was only luck that could help him. Or that the strike wasn't directed at him in the first place.

While it was true that they were unharmed from that blast, the room suffered a different fate. Upon hearing the crackles of fire that began to eat up the whole room, Durge moved on instinct and took Valentine out of the room. He thought of the possibility of it being an attack from those who chose the same choice as he did, those who walked the same path as him; a path that was meant for a single person. Whatever the case, staying in that room was stupid; the growing flame and the possibility of a second lightning was enough for common sense alone to reach the conclusion of running away.

Yet Durge didn't.

He did by instinct jumped out of the bed, and took Valentine by hand, but that was only to get her out of the room, after which Durge came back into the room engulfed in flame, standing tall waiting for another shot. Judging by the mental pressure emitted around the lightning, Durge knew full well that it might probably kill him, or at least paralyse him. Strangely, he was willing to risk his own life, only to prove that he was not running away.

The crosshair was exactly pointing at Durge's head, and it was only a flick of a finger for the sniper to kill that arrogant man standing among the raging flame. The eyes that refused to make haste and escape, how meaningful it was to Julius, that he stopped and decided that the kid was too exciting a player to get rid of. Neither of them knew that the person on the other side of the conflict was acting strange.

"Send in the firefighter," a beep from his cellphone, and thus he left.

Curious as to why the assassin took so long to launch the second attack, Durge quickly jumped out of the window and ran to the block in which the building the shot came from were. His body that was resisting the heat of flames before found the chilling white city excruciating, while the thick layers of snow vaporized by each step Durge took. The emerging hail also didn’t make it a walk in the park, but enough determination had set in in his heart. He needed to know who the assassin was.

He needed to know who chose the fight.

The cold, raging wind had been proven to be effective in slowing him down, and he only reached the general location in fifteen minutes – it should be five. There was no way the assassin could stay there if he knew that Durge was after him. Tired from the wasted effort, he kicked the snow in frustration, only to find that another man was standing, waiting for him. Unexpected, but not unwanted.

“Ever gazed the bright colour of lightning?”

“Pretty sure it wasn’t yellow.”

“That, boss,” the man began to slowly drag his legs through the white and reach the lightly clothed Durge, a mysterious smile crept up his face. As he offered Durge his extra winter coat, he continued, “is no mere lightning. The strike was a straight line all the way, yes?” Durge could only nod as he wondered how this mysterious man could reach here, let alone observe the strike in such a detailed manner, but perhaps he would let it go this time. “It has to come from a rifle.”

“So we have an enemy that shoots lightning? Pretty imbalanced, don’t you think?” Durge commented, his faded sense of world balance kicked in for some reason. He was pretty sure that normal rifle alone was hard to handle by his spear, let alone those which shoots lightning. It was fine to him, however, were the lightning was of a second tier. “Which tier does that lightning belong to?”

“First, the same tier as your blade. And it sure has a large difference in firepower.”