Cloudhawk trekked the broken streets back toward Sandbar Station.
He hadnât won Woodland Vale to their side, but in killing Adder he at least prevented the Conclave from winning a powerful ally. He considered it a reasonable success. His success would be rewarded, and his reputation in the expeditionary force and Skycloud as a whole would grow. Titles were good â he didnât have to like it, but he had to respect what they brought. Appropriate for when you needed to get things done. Maybe if he earned enough prestige in Skycloud, he could use his influence to protect the parts of the wasteland worth protecting.
As he walked across the broken landscape, he thought back on the little sister heâd just lost. The memories slipped by without a sense of loss or regret. He could understand. they were people from two different worlds. Their separation wasnât a bad thing.
It was good that sheâd found a nice place like her little oasis. He was happy for her, truly. His only hope was that she could stay happy and safe far into old age. In helping her along that final journey, Cloudhawk had done everything he could, and now there was nothing left for him to do. No worries, no remorse, a clear conscience, and a clear mind.
Azura admired her teacher for his carefree and direct attitude. A person like him had a particular aura that followed them around.
Something caught Cloudhawkâs attention and he came to a stop. Eyes narrowed, he looked around in all directions.
âHey, come out. No point in hiding.â
Oh no! An ambush! Azura could feel the hairs rise on the back of her neck.
A young man with his left arm wrapped in bandages came into view. His gaze was cold and strict, his face indifferent, his presence solemn. Something about him made people shift uncomfortably. Cloudhawk was once again struck by how different this man was from the care-free youth heâd met years ago.
Squall was wrapped in tattered armor. Streaks of blood covered his face and hair. An unsettling sense of carnage hung over him, like heâd just stumbled out of a killing field. His black eyes didnât have the same shine that they used to. They were dark now, like pools of shadow. No more warmth lived in his hard face. His youthful elegance and charm had vanished with the march of time, giving way to a sharper and more angular cut.
The wastes were silent, but for a gentle breeze kicking up dust and blurring their vision. Both men stood facing one another without saying a word. Strange, it felt to both of them like they had somehow traded places.
A constant smoldering rage burned inside Squall, down into his bones like he was some kind of wild animal. How was that any different from Cloudhawk, during those hard months when he was fighting his way toward Skycloud?
As for Cloudhawk, it was impossible to see his face beneath the mask but he stood casually with his arms crossed. He was at ease, muscles relaxed. He had begun to learn to face things calmly and not rely on hysterical anger to solve his problems. Heâd found that same carefree quality Squall had lost along the way.
But Cloudhawk wasnât Squall, and his easy bearing wasnât naivete. Heâd lived the bitter, harsh, painful reality of the world they walked and learned to face it with tranquility. It was a sign of maturity.
Nor was Squall the Cloudhawk of old. Even when he was drinking animal blood and hunting for grubs, Cloudhawk was a child of darkness yearning for light. He never let that darkness in. But Squall⌠heâd accepted it, let it become part of him until it devoured his soul. What lay beneath that increasingly powerful shell was a man wrapped in hatred, who wanted the world to know his vengeance. Pure loathing and burning rage was what fueled him.Â
Cloudhawkâs voice was calm as the breeze. âWhat are you doing here?â
Squall looked back at him, face dark. His left hand was curled into a fist and a tick caused his cheek to jerk. Veins in his neck pulsed like he was just barely containing his anger. âWhy did you kill Adder? Why would you do that to Asha? If you donât want to help the wastelands in this war, thatâs fine, but why throw your lot in with the Elysians?â
âThis war is meaningless. The Conclave of Judgment will be destroyed eventually, and the whole wasteland will suffer because of their idiotic alliance. If I become important enough to the Elysians, then when it comes time to clean up I can protect those that deserve it. Thatâs how I aim to stop a whole lot of people from dying.â
It was a reason, but to Squall his logic was absurd. His already swollen left arm bulged further. Tendrils of black smoke seeped from between the bandages, and a grim aura hung over the area. It was unclear whether that sensation came from the power of his arm, or the depths of this manâs blighted spirit.
âI donât know whether or not the Wastelands Alliance will succeed, but itâs no question youâve just become another mongrel for those self-righteous killers.â Squallâs eyes darkened further as the black mists spread. He was like a demon of rage wrapped in living shadow. âSo it has come time to cut you down!â
Images from Oddballâs point of view flashed through Cloudhawkâs mind. Figures were closing in from all sides. Ravenous Tiger, Blackfiend, Three-Eyed Spider, Raven and others.
Theyâd been waiting here for him. This attempt on his life was premeditated.
Cloudhawk knew that this confrontation would happen eventually, but he hadnât thought it would come so soon. He looked around. âKill me? You didnât bring enough men to get the job done.â
If he couldnât fight them all, that didnât mean he couldnât run. There werenât many in the wastelands or Skycloud anymore who were a real danger to him.
Three-Eyed Spider hobbled forward with a malicious grin. His third eye was open and its bloodshot orb was fixed on Cloudhawk. âDonât be so self-confident. Your teleportation abilities are difficult to manage, but limited. Youâre also carrying a burden. Hundreds of kilometers of wasteland stretch in all directions. I wonder how long before you run out of energy?â
The former lead scientist of the dark atom relied on technology for most of his abilities. Cloudhawk was unfamiliar with those old secrets, and who knew what tricks the old codger had hidden up his sleeves? His invisibility cloak had been damaged in the Vale, so if they gave chase it would be difficult for him to give them the slip even with his phase stone.
Cloudhawk looked back at them with an expression of pity. âSquall, youâve spent too much in pursuit of power and violence. Here I am, a friend, and youâre ready to kill without question. Youâre letting the darkness eat at your humanity, and if you let it itâll drive you insane.â
âI went insane a long time ago! The moment they killed Old Thistle, from the moment I knew.â Squallâs handsome face was twisted into a hellish expression of hatred. âWho forced this on me? Who made me live this mad, cruel existence?!â
Mist poured from Blackfiendâs onyx body and seeped into Squallâs left arm, while the bandages keeping it contained started to rip apart. The blood lust in the air was unmistakable. Conflict was certain.
Words were never Cloudhawkâs strong suit. Nothing he could say would turn Squall away from the dark path heâd chosen. An exorcist staff slipped into his grip, and right away the power flooding through it caused itâs head to spin.
All at once Squall was on the move. He darted toward Cloudhawk faster than an arrow. In his right hand was an exorcist staff of his own spinning furiously. His left arm pulsed with deadly black energy.
It was the same energy heâd used to . As time passed, his control over this power, and the limits of it, had grown by leaps and bounds.
Cloudhawk immediately teleported himself and Azura thirty meters away. Squall smashed into the ground where theyâd been causing the earth to visibly ripple like a lake surface. His attack was so violent that the entire area looked as though itâd been instantly terraformed. Squall was hunched in the center of a crater after his shocking display.
Before Squall recovered from his opening attack a stiff breeze caught him. He looked, pupils constricting, just in time to watch an exorcist rod catch him.
Crack!
Heâd managed bring his arm up in time. The two rods crackled for a moment before Squall was thrown  a dozen meters across the field.
Ravenous Tigerâs hands were wrapped around his ax as he watched their exchange. Every passing second his scowl deepened. Squallâs progress was incredible, almost frightening. His control over that power had also improved. Ravenous Tiger wasnât sure he would be able to take the young man on in a straight fight. It was a grim fact, for it meant his standing and influence in the Highwaymen would always be overshadowed.
But it was Cloudhawk that really caught Ravenous Tiger by surprise.
He remembered their first exchange. The guy had some ability then, but was passable at best. Somehow in the time that had passed he was like an entirely different person. When heâd heard that it was Cloudhawk that killed Adder he didnât believe it, but now he could see it was true.
The gulf between them was too great.
Were it not for Squallâs unique implanted relic enhancing his abilities, he wouldnât have survived a single blow from Cloudhawk. Even with the Hellion Arm, he was only just managing to fight back and was clearly at a disadvantage.
Cloudhawk pressed the attack. One, two, three blows from the exorcist rod in quick succession. Each one forced Squall back.
Cloudhawk continued to try and talk him down, even while they fought. âWhy do you have to be a fucking idiot and follow Adderâs footsteps?! You think I wonât kill you?â
Squall deflected the onslaught with his left arm. It drank up the energy from Cloudhawkâs relic like rain over a parched landscape. With a bestial roar he released all the energy contained within it, a punch that birthed a thunderous gale. It shattered Cloudhawkâs exorcist rod like it was a rotten tree branch.
A flash of silver slithered from Cloudhawkâs sleeves as his twin swords emerged. Eight streaks of cold light followed almost right on top of one another as he counterattacked.
Squall protected himself with the Hellion Arm and fought back with his exorcist rod, but he was outmatched. Even a master of close-combat like Eckard wouldnât have been able to deflect Cloudhawkâs tireless assault. One caught him, digging into his body and cutting an angry red swath.
âRaven, deal with him!â Three-Eyed Spider shouted the order.
Like a robot Raven responded to the command. His wrist folded back to reveal the barrel of a machine gun, and an instant later the battlefield was churning from a storm of lead.
Outnumbered. Cloudhawk wasnât an idiot. There was no point in fighting this uphill battle. His mind was churning out a plan of escape for Azura and himself when suddenly, there was a streak of light from overhead. Ravenâs mechanical hand was cut clean off.
Another, this one forcing Ravenous Tiger to leap back or suffer the same fate. Cloudhawk caught a glimpse of a figure in pure white descend from the sky.
Selene? What was she doing here? Everyone was familiar with the strength of Baldurâs daughter. She as deadly a fighter as Adder had been, and with her fatherâs relics even more terrifying.
Faced with this new, formidable enemy Squall was forced to retreat. He wasnât willing to sacrifice half his people just to deal with Cloudhawk.
Faced once again with a show of Seleneâs force, Cloudhawk couldnât help the faint trepidation that filled him. After all, it wasnât long ago that he killed her cousin. But it didnât seem like the former Bloodsoaked Queen blamed him. Beneath that mask of cool indifference what emerged was a look of genuine concern and relief.