Scenes from an Unholy War Read Online Free Page A

face.
    “What’s going on here?” Sheryl exclaimed as the ever-changing stable quaked.
    And behold! The ceiling and walls puckered at their centers, rising in a funnel shape before squeezing down into a single stream that was sucked into a spot just a bit off the ground—the palm of D’s left hand, which had been raised off the ground. Who would’ve believed that the tiny mouth that opened on its surface could suck up that distortion field?
    The sky howled. The ground quaked. So great was the force of the wind, it left all of them clutching the very hair on their heads. They weren’t overreacting—the wind threatened to yank it from their scalps. The howl of the ferocious gale died, and a second later light filled their world.
    The three of them stood out in the stark light of the summer sun. The roof, the walls, and even the horses in the stable had been destroyed. Now they were confronted by four people standing on a familiar street. Three were huge fellows in their forties, while the last was still young. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. A device about the size of a hardcover book hung from a strap around his neck. With a troubled look on his face, the young man backed away.
    “What the hell are you doing?” one of the others barked at him.
    “I don’t believe it. The distortion field just disappeared!”
    “Isn’t that a pity!” Lyra said, stepping forward. Her crimson garb was like the very killing lust that enshrouded her.
    “Die, fucker!” one of the men cried, drawing the longsword from his hip and taking a swipe at her with it. It had the razor-sharp tip one would expect from someone who spilled blood for a living, but Lyra parried it with her own blade fresh from its sheath.
    There was a mellifluous sound, and the sword flew out of the man’s hand. As if it’d been planned that way, the errant blade plunged straight into the head of the second man, who was charging toward Lyra. It split him open down to his upper lip.
    As the second man fell in a bloody mist, the third ran past him, his right hand raised high. The short spear he sent knifing through the air sank into Lyra’s heart.

THE TARGETED VILLAGE
    chapter 2
    I
    —
    L yra let out a scream. It was a terrifying moment. The force of
the impact spun the warrior woman’s body a full 360 degrees. Something shot from her chest, piercing the third man through the base of the throat and poking out again from the top of his head. Catching the short spear the man had hurled, Lyra had launched it right back. Her scream was intended to make her opponent drop his guard.
    As her body spun around, it suddenly warped like a mirage. Without a word, she tumbled forward. Even the blade of the sword she attempted to use as a crutch twisted as if it were rubber.
    “Die!” the man whose sword she’d batted away shouted as he dashed past the younger man operating the device. The blade he raised to strike had belonged to one of his cohorts. He was close enough that a slash would cut the woman in two—but then the man jammed on the brakes. With eyes thrown open wide, the man’s face now wore a corpselike rictus. “No . . . No, it can’t be . . . You’re—” The man’s mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish, the words that spilled from it formed by the realization of his fate.
    Sheryl and the mayor turned and looked.
    “—D,” the man croaked.
    The young man in black took a smooth stride forward. His gait was filled with strength. However, his eyes were bloodshot, and sweat dripped to the ground from his chin. Although his foe looked like he was about to die of fright, the Hunter looked like he was about to die of an illness.
    “Waste ’im, Goro!” the older man shouted to the young man, who was just as paralyzed as he was. Running over, he took cover behind the younger man’s back.
    As if freed from the spell that’d bound him, the young man reached for his keyboard with his right hand. But a death bird spread its