《Sigil Weaver: An Old Man in An Apocalypse》Chapter 73: Safe Zone X

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Rory felt as though he should have been allowed to slump and fall over. After dealing with the monstrous, near-unbeatable Thunderclaw Knight, tired didn’t even begin to cover the state of his mind, body, and soul. But he had told himself that the luxury of feeling things wasn’t one he could afford if he wanted his new home to survive.

The others were still fighting, several Thundershells still alive and kicking with murderous intent.

“I’ve got this,” Viv said. Her voice struggled but she mastered herself far too quickly. “Take a breather, Rory.”

Rory would have replied if he’d had the breath to do so. Viv was already walking off. Or staggering, rather. The blood loss had weakened her to the point that even her Sigil of Prime was having trouble keeping up. Just before she turned away, Rory had caught just how pale her face had grown, how bloodshot her eyes had become. She wasn’t doing great.

“Ah, such monstrosity,” the Wraith Lord said. He glared at the area around Rory with baleful eyes. “I never imagined I’d have to face one such as this. Are you not overjoyed that I joined the fray in time?”

“Thanks for the help,” Rory said. “But we’ve still got work we need to take care of.”

The Wraith Lord looked. “That you do. But my job here is done.” He stretched, his hand moving away from his guts to show how his wound distended obscenely. The Wraith Lord caught Rory looking and grinned. “You’ll live. Just not as easily as you’d thought.”

Grunting, Rory started trudging off. But he had only taken a single step forward when the system shoved all its messages at him at once.

New Sigil!

You’ve obtained a Sigil of the Thunderclaw. Embrace your lightning and let your inner thunder burst free. The world will stand in mute attendance in awe pf your power.

[Cerulean VII] allows 3 Thunderclaw limb evolutions and 1 Knight sword summoning for 150 seconds.

Stats

Type: Concept

Rarity: Mythic

Tier: Cerulean VII [0%]

Efficiency: High [68%]

New Achievement!

Perseverance! Defeat doesn’t exist in your vocabulary. You’ve risen again and again against insurmountable odds to prove that your tenacity is only superseded by that of a nuclear-fallout surviving cockroach.

Rewards

Sigil of Rebound

New Sigil!

You’ve obtained a Sigil of Rebound. Enough is enough. You’ve suffered sufficient punishment without any gain. From now on, you’ll grow stronger with every hit your suffer.

[Cerulean I] grants 4 points to rebound per personal Tier. Rebound temporarily boosts stats when suffering damage. Improves passively.

Stats

Type: Concept

Rarity: Exceptional

Tier: Cerulean I [0%]

Efficiency: Extreme [81%]

Rory stared at the new Sigils. The Sigil of the Thunderclaw was a deep blue crystal coin depicting the image of a humanoid figure surrounded by lightning. In his other hand, the Sigil of Rebound was a dark brown Sigil showing a strange symbol. A swirl of light gold, with the top and bottom arms of the swirl thicker than the ones on the side.

What a strange picture. Rory put both Sigils away for the moment. There were more important things to take care of right now.

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Rory found himself in front of Dez and Sue. The big guy was struggling under his injuries, but he was biting through the pain to help Sue, who was in a much worse condition. Rory didn’t care to stare at her wounds for any longer than he had to. Instead, he summoned his Harmonic Blizzard once more and froze her injuries to stop the bleeding.

“We need to find Evelyn,” Rory said.

Dez grunted. “If she’s alive.” When Rory looked at him sharply, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s alright. We’ll make it through this. Just… survive, okay? Stay alive. That’s all we can do for now.”

Rory left him and Sue together. His heart thumped as he wondered what had happened to those who hadn’t been able to join the fight. Hopefully, they’d had enough presence of mind to stay far away from the battle, deeper within the palace where they’d be safe. Rory couldn’t bare the thought of Sue or April finding out that May or one of the twins were dead.

Shouldering aside his grim thoughts, Rory pushed onwards to the courtyard. The battle was finally dying down. With the Thunderclaw Knight dead, Rory’s party had received a big morale boost. At the same time, all the remaining Thundershells had lost their drive and ferocity, no longer as hell-bent on killing everyone as they’d been before.

That allowed the defenders to start mopping up the last of the monsters. By the time Rory reached them, Miles’s Stormfire had reduced the final Thundershell to a flaming hunk of broken, metallic rocks.

No one celebrated. Not a single person looked relieved or happy that they’d won. The Thundershells’ screaming might have stopped, but those who’d been hurt, those who had found their friends, family, and loved ones dead or dying, were all still screaming their lungs out.

There was no one to take charge of things. Dez was still slumped far away, and with the threat of imminent death finally gone, Viv fell the ground in an unmoving heap as she finally let her exhaustion claim her. Even Rory couldn’t muster the effort to direct anyone. Why should he, when no one was paying attention to anything as part of a group.

Several people had run off. Some were hurrying to where comrades had fallen, some were simply getting away from everyone else.

But a small group did come to Rory as he staggered closer to the gardens.

“Oh good,” Evelyn said. She looked unhurt, though her arm was wrapped in her golden bandage. “You’re safe. We already have way too many people injured.”

Rory found his voice. “What’s the situation? How many are dead and injured?”

Evelyn looked down. “I need to help the others. Maybe someone else has answers.”

She moved past him to deal with Viv. Rory didn’t like the lack of a response, but at least his wife would be seen to. He looked around. The devastation was all so apparent, he didn’t really need anyone to report anything to him.

Of the half-dozen Neophytes who had joined the battle, two lay dead near the far wall to the right of the palace. The other Neophytes had gathered around the broken corpses of their draconic comrades, standing in silent vigil. Viv had mentioned they were all part of a hive mind. Rory couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were going through in their heads.

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Nearer at hand, Diane was sobbing over an unmoving Oliver. Harlow stood frozen in shock behind her. Both of the living office workers were heavily injured, blood sheathing their chests and legs, but at least they were alive.

Several of the doctors and hospital staff had been covered with golden bandages from Evelyn. He wasn’t sure if any of them were really alive, or if the bandages were wishful thinking from Evelyn.

“Have you seen where he fell?” Jerome asked after trudging up to Rory. “Mikey. He fell. From the tower. You saw where, right?”

Numb, Rory stared at Jerome for a minute or two. Somehow, he managed to point to the other side of the palace. Jerome trundled off, his expression hooded and grim.

The rest of the day passed in that haze of doom. After the first few gloomy interactions, Rory simply found his body working on autopilot as they all slowly started to figure out where they stood and what they needed to do next. They gathered the survivors, attended to the wounded, and pulled the corpses together just besides the broken steps of leading to the main hall.

Rory stared at the bodies. So many of them dead. So many people he had rescued and helped, so many who had come to see the palace as a place where they could rebuild some modicum of their old lives. All gone. Reduced to nothing by a sudden death that they hadn’t deserved. Rory’s mouth twisted. The world was cruel. Unforgiving.

If only he had been faster with—

“No,” Rory said, breathing out harshly. He was not going to go down the route of remorse and guilt. He didn’t have the luxury to feel

While many of them mourned or recovered from their fight against the Thunderclaw, Rory dragged himself to the palace and surveyed the damage dealt to their home.

The steps leading to the main hall would need repairs soon, as would all the columns that had fallen inside the hall. A chunk of the ceiling had collapsed as well. Not to mention the horrific condition of the towers, especially the east tower. The one from which Mikey had fallen to his death. He couldn’t recall if any of them had any experience in construction, but then, maybe he could figure out a Sigil that could help with that.

Rory’s eyes landed on the column that had the Sigil of Settlement Warded into it. The Sigil’s image was glowing. Something was up with it, but he couldn’t make himself get over to it and check. Fat load of good it had done them. Did it really deserve his time and attention after it had failed them so terribly, leading to so much death and—

Cursing himself, Rory turned away. He had just told himself he wasn’t about to let himself feel any remorse or guilt. Blaming the Settlement was no different from that.

A low yip made Rory look up.

“Gramps.” Miles approached him, looking more downcast than Rory had ever seen him. Jerky came up and licked his ankle, then skipped away. At least the little shih tzu was okay. “It’s not your fault. You did everything you could to help us. In the end, enough of us survived.”

“Enough?” Rory asked. “Enough… according to who?”

Miles blinked at him. “I… don’t know.”

Rory’s throat clenched up, which was just as well, for he knew any words that came out next would have been too unkind. He let the wash of cold roll over him and take its toll. When it was done and he could speak again, he struggled to keep himself calm.

“We’ll prepare a pyre for the dead,” he said. “Unless any of them have other funeral preferences.”

Miles swallowed, then shrugged. “They’re dead, aren’t they? Does it matter anymore?”

No. Not really. What mattered was that much of the forests around them had been destroyed, so it was fitting they used the useless wood for one last purpose.

“We should get some food,” Viv said.

Rory hadn’t seen her come in. Neither had Miles or Jerky, though the dog yipped in greeting. The shrill noise woke Darcy, who’d been sleeping with her head against Viv’s shoulder.

“Where’s momma?” the little girl asked.

Viv blinked rapidly, and Rory could feel his heart breaking into a thousand tiny, bloody shards. The moment when Alyssa had sacrificed herself to protect April flashed in his mind far too vividly. He hadn’t realized just how young the little girl really was.

“She’s not here right now,” Viv eventually said, unable to hide her tears. “Go back to sleep, dear. You need your rest.”

Darcy grumbled and squirmed a bit, but eventually gave in and went back to sleep. Miles shushed Jerky to make sure the dog didn’t wake her again. Rory wondered wat Malcolm was going through at the moment. His state no doubt had something to do with why Viv had taken custody of the little girl.

“Yes,” Rory said. His voice sounded like what he imagined a dead fish would. “We should get everyone together and get something to eat. Then we can take care of funeral proceedings.”

Rory looked back into the rest of the area. He had never been sure where they stored most of the food, though maybe it was time he finally learned.

Just as Viv stepped past him and Rory was about to follow, a shout came up from the far end of the courtyard. Rory exchanged glances with Viv and Miles, then headed over. There wasn’t any alarm in the yell, only a surprised warning.

Rory decided to go check it out. After all, whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than the Thunderclaw Knight.

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