Chapter 310

Manhattan, New York - 3:15 PM

After my meeting with Sara, I walked around New York City while disguised. It was honestly interesting to see how the people were taking their time off from the scenarios while their strongest members battled it out in the Emperor’s Ascent.

Everything aside from random roaming monsters was put on hold as the Empire State Building became the center of attention of the American northeast. For the first time since the system dropped, the population looked rested. There were enough people around that any strays or swarms were quickly put down, and there weren’t dozens of scenarios going on around the city that required constant vigilance.

It was unfortunate that this peace would be ending soon. The administrators were going to ramp up their efforts once the Emperor’s Ascent was over, but the event had given everyone the two things they sorely needed: rest and unity. There were televisions in almost every window. They didn’t need to be plugged in to show the scenario, and the people were making great use of that.

I walked behind a throng of people wearing the Libra faction colors as they huddled around a huge tube TV that looked like it came straight from the 90s. They were excitedly chatting about how Alexei Lykov, the leader, managed to tank several of Aquarius’ building-sized Fountain Golem’s attacks so that the rest of his team could work on shutting off its water attacks, which was the key to victory.

Libra’s faction was behind, but that was hardly unique to them considering Sol Ligatus and their Orc Magical Girl teammate were preparing for the fight with the Emperor of Constellations. Even though they weren’t fighting yet, I could see Kayla, Jeff, and Mercury getting ready with Ross and a few other allies.

Seeing them doing well, I resumed my walk around the city. A lot of the televisions were set to my guild, but not all. There were plenty of other factions sharing the limelight, and I couldn’t help but grin at what appeared to be a whole baseball team wielding baseball bats cheering on the Gemini station.

I couldn’t help but notice that none were set to Leo, and only one was set to Pisces. There were a few people around that one and everyone else seemed to be giving them space. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good that they weren’t being heckled.

The same couldn’t be said for Leo. Graffiti Artists, which were fairly common in New York City, left behind work with magical paint that imparted bonuses to any who appreciated their work. I was thankful for that, because it meant I could actually see their efforts through my aura sight.

Graffiti of the factions was commonplace, but none of the ones picturing Leo were positive. Some were simply its head with an X through it, while others were cartoon caricatures of the animal losing all its fur. One was a fantastic replica of the Lion of Lucerne, only it had me standing above it with a club. I stared at that one for a while before moving on.

<<<>>>

[[Patron Message]]

You should head towards the Empire State Building.

<<<>>>

“But they’re not done yet?” I asked, tilting my head skyward. I wasn’t near the announcer anymore and couldn’t hear anyone else doing a play by play.

<<<>>>

[Patron Message]]

They’re not, no. You’re at just the right angle to approach it and it’s almost time.

<<<>>>

“Almost time, but not for the team?” I asked, but I didn’t get an answer.

I arched an eyebrow but complied with my wife’s wishes. Even though she seemed happier, I didn’t trust that I was out of the doghouse just yet. My path took me through a market and picked up some street corn along the way.

The crowds were getting thicker the closer to the Empire State Building I got, and I started noticing a trend. I had given the area a wide berth because I wanted to see how the city was faring, and I figured I’d work around and then inwards. Give my team some time to get the job done. They were probably going to get mobbed, and I wanted to be there with Celestial Wormhole to get them home.

There were several people wearing fake halos and wings walking near the Empire State Building. There had been a few around before, sure, but nothing like this. They seemed to be congregating, waiting for something to happen. Their auras were thick with anticipation.

A pulse of energy was sent out from my destination, causing me to freeze.

<<<>>>

[[Notice]]

A Great Artwork has been completed in New York City!

“The Martyrdom of the Angel of Death,” completed by Graffiti Guild Lesser Three, has increased your maximum hit points by 200 for one week.

[[Notice]]

You are the subject of a Great Artwork. Your MVP Token has received another accolade.

<<<>>>

“No,” I whispered.

Not because it was unwelcome, but because I couldn’t really believe it. Great Artworks were masterpieces done by people with the right classes for it, but my body was barely cold. The fact that anyone could have made one after my death, even if it was done by a guild, was a huge undertaking.

There was something to be said for the graffiti artists of New York City and their passion, at the very least.

I started flying over the crowd in order to get closer. There were a few shouts from beneath me, but they weren’t anything more than surprise and confusion. I was in disguise, so it didn’t really matter who saw me. Only Jamie would know exactly who I was.

Turning the corner, I finally got close enough that I could see the art through my awareness aura. Then, I had to approach even closer because it was much bigger than I thought it was going to be. I was glad that it was essentially magical, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to see it.

The artwork had been made across the street from the Empire State Building on the other side of 5th Ave. I was looking at myself. My face, several stories tall, stared out over the crowd.

Abstract as it was by the style, there was no mistaking the bronze skin, orange eyes, and flaming hair. Six wings, as white as could be, emerged from behind me, and my halo crossed my brow like a solid gold headband. Underneath was my name, Anthony Franklin, done in sharp lettering.

There were a few people with tall ladders taken from fire trucks working on the finished product, and they started to climb down. All except one, a man in his early twenties who finished touching up his spot with a spray can. I watched as it was expertly applied in a particular pattern even though it had a stock nozzle. That was a Graffiti Artist at work.

Once he was satisfied, he turned around on the ladder and put the can into the large pockets of his jeans. His eyes scanned the crowd, locking on me for a moment before passing on. I began lowering myself to the ground; I had enough attention on me already. He pulled out a microphone from his inventory.

“Now, you all don’t know me,” the man said, his voice magically enhanced. The crowd hushed. “They call me Kid Blue. I’m a member of Graffiti Guild Lesser Three, and I’m the one the group chose to speak on our behalf.”

Kid Blue licked his lips and scanned the crowd again, as if suddenly realizing how many people he was talking to. He looked away and tapped the microphone against his forehead a couple of times, though the sound didn’t come through, and he took a deep breath before turning back.

“Look, I’m not good at this, but I’ll say what I have to say,” he continued. “When Anthony Franklin first showed up, swinging onto that podium with New York’s finest like he was Peter Parker or something, I was skeptical. Baltabitch clearly favored him, some tourist, over our own. I’ll admit it, I was mad. Seemed like she was looking down on us. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t like that one bit.”

There were a few murmurs of approval, and even I could get behind what he was saying.

“But then we had time to relax, and I got to watching,” Kid Blue said, making himself comfortable. “Now that I’ve got everyone’s attention though, I gotta give it out to my girl Diana, from Scorpio. She helped out my community a lot before this whole mountain shit started. Still my favorite, and I gotta shout that from the rooftops while I’ve got everyone’s attention.”

He raised the microphone as if he were about to drop it and a few people laughed. It went right back to his lips a moment later.

“For real though, I got to watching,” he repeated, scanning the crowd again. “A few members of the guild had him on, thinking he was hot shit. At first I thought Anthony was sketchy as hell. He made his team fight for him, having tea with a little girl and what had to be some sailor, guessing by the mouth on that crafter woman. Just straight chillin. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I went back to watching Scorpio. That is, until they got my attention again.”

Kid Blue nodded as he looked up at the sky. “First floor, he didn’t do shit. But the second, man, he sure as hell showed up Trevor,” he said with a chuckle. “I ain’t never seen anyone move that way before. The way things were popping up into the world, and how they always hit those wolves’ weak spots, and then how calm he was during the whole kaiju fight? I had an inkling, then, that he might be whatever brand of special he was being treated as.”

“The Reaper!” a woman called.

“I’m getting there,” Kid Blue replied, holding up his hand. “But I wanted to pay some respect to the Sol Ligatus name. Because, after that fight, I started watching. I mean really watching. I saw Mercury Moonslayer, killer name by the way, sneak his ass through Cyclops. Then, Kayla ran down some escape room puzzle in minutes like it was nothing. Basically by herself, too; no other faction got close to that time. It started hitting me, then, that Anthony couldn’t be anything less than extraordinary.

“Just look at the quality of the crew that ran with him. Not how they deferred to him, like a boss that demands respect, but how they joked with him. Called him names like psychic boy. Ribbed on him. Look at how he took it in stride, like it’s just another day. It was just a thought at the time, but the more I watched them work, the more sure I was. Any of them could have been a leader here in the city. Any of them. Then I saw the same shit you did.”

Kid Blue took another breath, and I could see him trembling a little. “That fucking Reaper,” he started, raising his hand to point at the Empire State Building. “Was goddamn bullshit.”

The crowd roared in agreement, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Any of you step up and tell me you could have handled that son of a bitch, and I’d take you to a healer myself to get your head checked out,” he continued. “I have never, and I mean never, seen a fight like that before. By all counts, Anthony should have died there. I thought he was going to die, personally, seeing how battered he was afterwards. But, that bony asshole said it himself: Anthony was Death’s constant companion, not the other way around. I don’t know about you, but that’s a cold ass line to hear from the Grim fuckin’ Reaper.”

Pausing a beat, Kid Blue waited for the crowd to simmer back down. “Then the Angel form? Man had turned me into a true believer. I kept watching after that. Even after he took a backseat on account of all the soul shit going on, my ass was glued to my chair. It was impressive, yeah, and I’m going to remember that until you all have to put me in my grave, but it was what happened next that really told me what I needed to know about Anthony Franklin, the Angel of Death.”

He stopped for a moment, looking back up at the sky as he composed himself. “I got this kid sister, right. Likes to roam the neighborhoods. See the shops. Trying to get her class,” he said as he returned his gaze to the earth. “She’s thrown punches before, but she’s never been good at it. Two days ago, she had a run in with a sewer rat. You know the ones I’m talking about. The kind that we moved cars onto manhole covers for. The ones as big as I am.

“She comes face to face with one of these rat bastards, right, and she’s alone. Everyone’s around here, because this is where it’s safest, and she just slunk out. I never said she was smart. But this kid, barely nine years old, comes sauntering in pulling a rat twice her size by the tail, absolutely covered in blood, and gives me the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen on her.”

The tension in the crowd had gone up, but now it was coming back down.

“Told me she had taken a tire iron to its skull a few times, and that most of the blood wasn’t hers. Chat— Sorry, crowd, I was shook,” Kid Blue admitted, putting his hand over his heart. “After I got done worrying about her because, again, she was covered in blood and dragging a huge ass rodent behind her, I asked her what happened. Get this, she told me she learned how to fight from the TV. She learned it from Anthony Franklin.”

A warm feeling bloomed in my chest as I listened. As a speaker, Kid Blue was a little rough, but he had heart. Even if I had just saved one person, then my time here wasn’t wasted. By the crowd’s reaction, it seemed like it was more than just his sister. His voice cut through them.

“Everyone else was always out adventuring, trying to win the mountain’s top prize, and this Angel of Death was spending all his time training people,” the artist continued. “Not just those inside, but us, too. You ever notice that Anthony taught more basic weapons like clubs and shit as he did swords and spears? The kind of things we’d pick up off the street? I admit, I didn’t notice it at first, but the moment it was pointed out to me I realized how obvious it was.”

“A hero!” an older man near me yelled.

Kid Blue pointed in our general direction. “You’re right,” he agreed. “And it wasn’t just my kid sister. I’ve walked these streets, doing what I do, and I’ve seen all of you practicing just as hard as she did. Anthony’s brought this city together, taught us how to fight. Properly, I mean. Not that street shit some of us thought would get us through life. Hell, I’ve joined in a few training sessions with people I don’t even know just because they had him on. Shout out to Rajesh, my new sparring partner because we’re tied five for five and I’m going to get his ass next time.”

An Indian teen cheered at that, and Kid Blue smirked.

His mood didn’t last, though. With a sigh, he scratched his cheek and glanced back at his work. “And then he gave up his life because he couldn’t bring himself to kill some forty or fifty odd assholes from the Leo faction.”

That brought on a powerful reaction from the crowd, and he had to hold up his hand again.

“I’m not saying what they did wasn’t fucked up, but remember what Kayla made sure to say after,” Kid Blue said, and I tilted my head. “This was Anthony’s choice, and no one else’s. He wouldn’t want revenge. Don’t forgive if you can’t find it in you, but we’ve already seen them learn the error of their ways. Got it? The dead can’t atone for what they’ve done in life. Her words, not mine.”

The crowd was silent, their aura turbulent, but I only picked out a few who felt strongly enough that I’d worry. Still, that sounded exactly like Kayla. I would have to thank her later.

Kid Blue went quiet as he looked across the crowd, and he shrugged. “Anyway, I’m running out of steam up here. I might be the most eloquent member of Graffiti Guild Lesser Three, but that doesn’t make me some kind of wordsmith,” he admitted with a rakish smile, and more of the tension was diffused. “Anyway, we’ve been at this since an hour after his death. His martyrdom, as people smarter than me are calling it, and we’re very proud of it.

“The system agrees, seeing as it’s called a Great Artwork for a reason. Each of us have something to thank Anthony Franklin for,” Kid Blue said, his voice getting a little quieter. “Whether it’s helping my kid sister learn how to take care of herself, or teaching one of my friends how to dismantle her abuser in a few easy moves, bringing us together through the power of kicking ass, or just giving us some manner of faith and comfort, we’re thankful. Anthony Franklin, the Warmonger, Angel of Death. I’m assuming you’re in Heaven due to that last part, but I hope you can rest easy, and know that you’ll be sorely missed.”

Kid Blue raised the microphone and really did drop it this time. It bounced down the ladder, hitting the ground before he turned and descended. The crowd clapped and cheered, and I witnessed the maelstrom of emotions running through them. Pain, hope, loss, faith, and everything in between.

“You were supposed to wait in the train,” Jamie said from behind me, arms crossed. “Couldn’t help but come and see this Anthony Franklin mural, or whatever it is?”

The aura of all these people meant that she was able to sneak up on me, but I still didn’t jump. I turned and fixed her with a sad smile. “Sorry. Figured everyone would want a doorway home so they wouldn’t have to push through the crowd. Thought I’d come out and do it myself, but I can leave it with you.”

“Yeah, go ahead and do that,” she said. I pulled a door from my inventory, complete with frame, and marked it for Celestial Wormhole before handing it to her. The Weapon Master took it, but also frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Just fine,” I answered. Turning to face the art, I put my hands on my hips. “You know, I’m usually gone for this part. Come in like a whirlwind, take care of whatever needs taken care of, and then I’m out before the administrators know to try and pin me down. Between Anthony Franklin’s Faithful down in Etson and this… Well, I guess I’m not so used to public displays of gratitude anymore. Makes me feel a little weird. Good, but awkward.”

“It’s pretty weird for the rest of us, too,” Jamie said, wrinkling her nose. “Some guy identified me even out of my armor. Asked me to sign his sword for him. I just left.”

“Yeah, I might just be out of practice but you’ve never been good at it,” I replied with a chuckle.

“Hey, watch it,” she warned.

“Sure,” I said, still amused. “I’ll get back to the train. Send me a guild chat when they’re out, okay?”

The Weapon Master still looked defensive, but she nodded. “Get back safe, or I’m kicking your ass.”

“No worries there,” I said as I started flying. “I’ll see you back on the Angel Express. For real this time.”

I watched as Jamie almost saluted me, almost, and barked a laugh.

<<<>>>

[[Patron Message]]

I think it’s sad that you don’t get to see the fruits of your labor as often as you should, Ant. If it means anything, the Patrons know you’re alive again now. That Evil Disguise would never hold up to their scrutiny. Many of them are thankful for what you’ve done for the community, and they wish you safe travels in the future.

And, even if the world turns against you, I’ll still love you, husband of mine.

<<<>>>

Sara’s message put a smile on my face as I flew over the streets of Manhattan. I took in the sights one last time, because we wouldn’t be coming back here once we left. That was sad in its own way.