Greater Than All [removed] Torth #5

4.15 Freedom

[Art Attribution: Allen Song]

Weptolyso wasn't sure why he was still alive.

He had been on his way to Tempest Arena, leading a flotilla of hovercarts laden with crucifixion victims, when the apocalypse began. Everyone heard Jinishta beg the messiah to stop. Even over the radio, her voice had resounded with power. She'd been desperate to make herself heard.

Everyone heard the warriors scream with defiance.

And, in groups, they had gone silent.

Weptolyso had intended to ready the beleaguered city for victims in need of aid. If he had carried out that duty, he would have been vaporized. But when the warriors ceased responding and the very earth rolled like water, he had recalled Thomas's warnings.

"Evacuate Tempest Arena," Weptolyso had commanded.

The inhabitants of Tempest Arena refused to leave. They had faith in the Bringer of Hope. Demigods, they said, should be trusted to know what they were doing. The Son of Storms never made mistakes.  

"The Son of Storms can make mistakes." Weptolyso had contradicted local leaders. "I have seen it. Anyhow, he may be fighting a new enemy or weapon. Why is he reacting in this way? The Torth here on Nuss were supposedly too weak to attack him."

Weptolyso had prepared to be humiliated for wrongly criticizing the Son of Storms. The risk was worth it. If he was right—if Thomas was right—then he might survive and be able to help others. So he had commandeered a cargo transport and fled towards the wetlands. Only a few people joined his flight away from the desert hurricane.  

Those were the ones who remained alive.

Together, they skated away from the initial destruction by the width of a shoulder spike. Tempest Arena was now a glassy, smoldering ruin. 

Next, Weptolyso should have died when violent earthquakes tore apart the base levels of CloudShadow MetroHub. Who knew how many penitent Torth had died in those upheavals? Millions, Weptolyso felt sure. The slave tunnels had been crammed full of penitents who were forced to serve as slaves.

Weptolyso had docked at a bay that was soon wrecked. There were survivors in the upper city, and he'd managed to join them.

The whole planet seemed to be in danger of being torn apart. Anyone who had survived the annihilation of the Torth Homeworld recognized the insane winds and unceasing earthquakes of an apocalypse. 

But the storm had subsided.

Weptolyso had no idea if it would resume, or if it was over for good. He wasn't sure if it mattered anymore.

Because now the Torth were attacking in force.

Torth shuttles descended through the roiling skies as soon as the earthquakes ceased. Their multi-pronged invasion was swift, smart, and overwhelmingly coordinated. They bombed the major pedestrian causeways that fed into the spaceports of every freehold city. That gave Torth shuttles enough opportunity to land without much interference.  

Other shuttles airdropped weapons, such as fissile materials, gaseous inhibitor emitters, and ionic-bladed knives, into penitent barracks. The weapons gave a critical number of penitents the means to free themselves.  

Now there were former penitents running through various cities, restored to status as Torth citizens, armed, and full of spite. Some had gone on murder sprees. Others committed acts of sabotage. Some engaged military leaders in battle, while others used those battles as distractions, so they could tear down communications relays or blow up knowledge depots.