Nightsea Outlaw

"Cut it faster, slaves!" Goldfist yelled as he walked over to the black pool.

Useless, the lot of them. They would redouble their efforts if they knew what glory awaited through the portal across the black pool. Island cores were closely guarded secrets to the government of any island, assuming they found it and found a way to access the portal.

The cores were buried deep beneath the ground and hidden on each island. With it, a person could control every aspect of an island. They could warp it to their sickest pleasures. They could raise mountains and call forth floods. They could send terrible storms and cause bountiful harvests to rise from fallow fields.

"Get that wood cut and start building!" Goldfist yelled, slamming his fist down hard on the ground.

The slaves had built the first foundations of their bridge. Ropes had been tied to the stone on the far side after Goldfist had thrown over two slaves with ropes attached to them. They had only broken their legs and lay waiting on the small island on the other side of the black water. The ropes allowed the slaves to work on the frame with the timbers they had, and they were now busying themselves, cutting them into smaller planks and beams. Goldfist would have crossed using the ropes, but his size wouldn't allow it, and the shore was too far for anything else to reach. He might jump, but if he missed, it was all over.

Goldfist smiled as he clenched his mechanical fist closed. He was so close to what he wanted. An island core in his hand would make the foundation of his future. He would remake Tombstone into a fortress against the Military Police and the Scions. He would emerge as a new power in the world that everyone would bow before.

"You are so close to what you desire, Hakim," the Seer's voice came from behind him, and Goldfist turned to face the voice without hesitation.

A black hole in reality itself faded to nothing as the dark-robed Seer floated through, his feet hidden by his robes but not touching the ground. He wore a red mask to conceal the upper half of his face, but his mouth and nose were pale as moonlight. The mask was ornate, like the face of an angry beast on the upper half, with blackened slits for eyes. His hands were hidden in his long sleeves, and everything about the man was cloaked in shadow, much as the day they had first met.

"All thanks to you.” Goldfist smiled. "I can't help but think you want something."

"No, Hakim," the Seer said. "We are merely here to confirm that you found it. Do with it what you will once you gain access. That is precisely what we want."

"I'd appreciate it if you would stop using that name.” Goldfist gritted his teeth. "I gave up that name when I got to this cursed world."

"We apologize, Hakim," the Seer said unrelentingly. "We must call all things by their true names. It is part of our way."

Goldfist licked his lips. He had abandoned that name when he came to the new world. The one he had left behind was a war-torn place where only the strong survived and held sway over the weak. Even with his size, he had been weak in Hajh. Even with his strength, he was a fly among the true giants of Hajh. On Tombstone, though, he was the strongest there was. With the core, he could rule over everyone there. His fist clacked together as he clenched it tight. Everyone on the island would bow before Goldfist.

"I'll ignore it," Goldfist said. "For the sake of our partnership. If that's all you want, then you can leave. I need to get these slaves moving."

The Seer's head turned almost a full ninety degrees to the side. A cold shiver ran down Goldfist's spine. He expected to hear the man's neck snap from the sheer angle his head turned, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, the Seer spoke as if nothing happened.

"We remind you, Hakim, that you serve us in your endeavor. You serve Sarrack, and you serve us to serve his greatness. Do not forget that we gave you the power you needed to gain access to this core. We gave you the arm that you take pride in. We can take as easily as we give."

The Seer pointed its hand out into the crowd of slaves. Goldfist followed where the covered hand pointed and saw one of the slaves stand up with a cut log on her shoulder. She wore rags and looked as grimy as every other slave. Back in his own world, he would say she was from Xing to the east of his homeland, but in this new world, he might say she was from April.

"Any one of these slaves could replace you, Hakim. They all have desires. They are all bound by their true names. We can bind them to our will and have them open the portal in your place."

"Why not open the portal yourself?" Goldfist said through gritted teeth. "You're so strong, so powerful. Why not float over there and open the portal?"

"We do not take this lightly, Hakim." The Seer raised his arms high.

Rumble. Crash. Rumble.

The ground around Goldfist shook. Loose rock and dirt started to hit his head as it fell from the ceiling above. The slaves dove to the ground, grabbing hold of anything they could in a frantic attempt not to get crushed.

Thump. Squelch.

A man screamed, and Goldfist saw that a falling rock had crushed his leg into a bloody mess. Goldfist grimaced and got down to one knee, letting his mechanical fist rest on the ground as he bowed down to the Seer. He hated every moment of it, but he was just moments away from triumph. He couldn't let his arrogance stop him from gaining true power.

"Great Seer, I apologize for my outburst. This path has been long, and I wish only to serve your master in my efforts."

He chose his words carefully and stated them like he would have spoken in the past. He said it like when he had to beg not to be bullied by the other giants. He had been a runt among them, and they ensured he knew his place daily. That skill would save him today and help him obtain true power.

The room stopped shaking, and the Seer lowered his arms. Goldfist took in deep breaths as he kept his head lowered. He just needed a little longer, and he wouldn't have to bow to anyone else. Even if he had to bow now, it was just a matter of time.

"Stand, Hakim," the Seer said, and Goldfist did so. "You are but moments from glory, and we will not see you robbed of what you have worked for. Just remember, Hakim, that we can see into your true heart. We will be watching you and what you do on this island in the name of Sarrack."

"Thank you," Goldfist said, bowing his head even as he stood to his full height.

"We must go, but know that we will be watching over you."

With that, a dark portal opened behind the Seer, and it retreated into the blackness that spawned it. Goldfist stood still, his entire body covered in sweat and his mouth dry. He had very nearly ruined everything by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. If he hadn't bowed, his entire operation would be over.

He looked out over the slaves. Most were fine and standing on their own. The one man whose leg had been crushed still screamed, and the woman that the Seer had pointed to knelt next to him, cradling his head in her hands. For a moment, Goldfist wondered why, but then he saw her rub her hand over his head. She was comforting him.

He thought back to when he had acquired that particular slave. She had come into town two years earlier, a bounty hunter in a trench coat with several guns if he remembered right. She had come for their bounties, but he and Silvertooth had taken her out. He was surprised she had survived this long, but that just proved that she was strong.

Was that why the Seer had pointed to her? The thought crept through Goldfist's gut as he made his way over to the screaming man. He hated when the weak cried out. It reminded him of himself, crying in camp after a hard day's work back in Hajh. The warriors would come back and beat on him. He deserved it back then. He deserved every hit for being so weak.

"Move," he told the woman as he came over.

She did, but he could feel her glare on his back. That was good. That was the kind of anger a person needed to survive in the world. That made the woman strong enough to be in his operation.

"Worthless," Goldfist said as he grabbed hold of the rock with his mechanical fist and heaved it off the man. "Any of you who are too afraid to stand up now are worthless to me!"

He looked down over the man, but there was nothing to salvage. His leg below his knee was flattened, and blood stained the stone floor around it. The only reason the man hadn't bled to death was because the stone had stopped the bleeding. It freely flowed out now, and the slave's face was growing paler by the second.

"This is what the worthless deserve!" he yelled.

He reached down and grabbed the man with his fist. He spun on his feet even as he picked the man up, tossing him high up in an arc and over to the black pond. The man screamed every second he was in the air until he hit the black water.

Splash. Hiss.

The black water tore away at the man's body as he sank beneath the surface. He screamed the entire way down until his face went beneath the water. Then, only a few bubbles rose to the surface for the brief moment of life he had left. When the last bubble popped, Goldfist knew that the slave was dead in the water, reduced to nothing.

"Death. The weak deserve to die so that the strong may succeed. That is the truth of the world. Anyone of you who cares to argue that will end up the same as him."

The slaves watched him with wide eyes. They feared him, but he didn't need that. What he needed was strong people to work under him. The slaves were useless as they were, beaten down and broken. It took a special quality for one to rise to the top. Those were the ones that would form his future soldiers. Those were the ones that he could respect enough to allow them to even glimpse the power that was possible.

"Wealth and Power. That's all you whelps need to know. That's all you whelps need to strive for. That is what makes a man a true man. Anything done to reach those two goals is right. Anything done to raise yourself from the whelps around you is justified. Don't think of the people around you as anything but tools to use to gain what you want. That's the real way to live life!"

He laughed, raising his mechanical fist into the air as he looked over his slaves. They practically cowered before him, and Goldfist knew he was right because they did so- all but the one woman. She glared at him defiantly, even now. Good. That one slave understood what a real man had to be. Inside, she was more of a man than any of the other slaves.

"Now get back to work!" Goldfist yelled, and his slaves complied, going back to building the bridge so the giant could cross.