-
"I have to ask," Shinsou muttered to Sorian’s messenger, who instead of listening to Shinsou's directions had now chosen to guide him instead, apparently aimlessly, through the passages and cobbled alleyways of Radasanth, "Why the hell are we snaking through the small passages like thieves? I’m more interested in getting there quickly rather than quietly, before the situation gets worse."
Shinsou’s irritation at their seemingly pointless course was somewhat dampened by the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach about having to break up that approaching skirmish. As they swerved left and dived into the gaping maw of yet another of the labyrinthine corridors, the Telgradian stumbled over a particularly jagged cobble in his haste and cried out in astonishment, nearly toppling to the ground before his guide jumped to his aid and grabbed him under the armpits. The messenger held back for a few seconds before sighing and answering in a flurry of words.
“Perhaps, but it would be somewhat inconvenient for me to be seen with you at the moment. I’ll leave it at that. Just trust me, and I’ll get you to Sorian. Let’s speed up, anyway.” he whispered.
The messenger nodded to himself and took off at a brisk pace, almost crashing through a set of metal bins as he went. Taken aback by the cryptic comment, Shinsou was almost left behind as he followed in the man's wake.
Inconvenient for me to be seen with him? What’s that all about?
Shaking his head, the Telgradian trotted forward, gaining on his charge. It wasn’t long before the alleyway twisted into another left turn and, as Shinsou carefully but quickly negotiated bags of rubbish and a sleeping tomcat, the dense pulse of the two colliding souls of Elite Optic and Storm Veritas once again reverberated through his body. The feeling was a lot stronger now, so much so that the next wave of power sent a ripple of nausea into his stomach that provoked the Telgradian into slowing his jog.
"What the fuck is going on over there?" he murmured, ducking to avoid a low-hanging pole as he clenched his stomach.
The man shrugged and snorted lightly. "Sorian’s beast doesn’t take much in the way of provocation to rile" he stated. “And when he’s riled, good luck trying to stop him.”
Shinsou chewed his lip again at the thought of getting between Elite Optic and Storm outside of the safety of the Citadel’s healing magic. If it was Storm Veritas he was sensing, then he would have mixed feelings about fighting him. It wasn’t any sort of perceived fear about the man’s power that made Shinsou hesitate, though the Telgradian had seen for himself what the lightning mage was capable of and it would be a less than comfortable experience dealing with that. No. the problem was that Storm had earned his respect in their encounter with Sunwing. He was crass, arrogant and downright offensive, but Storm went about it all with such a gentlemanly charm that he would make you believe his shit smelt like roses on a summer’s day. Shinsou had watched as the man’s foot had been stripped almost to the bone, his flesh melted by a bubble of molten rock, and yet Storm Veritas had gotten up and dealt with business that had to be dealt with as if nothing had happened.
On the other hand, Shinsou knew that fate was a fickle mistress. One man’s ally on a Monday could just as well be his enemy on a Tuesday if the circumstances dictated. Then there was the small issue of that rampaging menace, Elite Optic. The Telgradian had little idea of why their paths had crossed, but he cursed the gods that governed the fates that, today of all days, that bloodthirsty stack of bones had become his responsibility.
I need to find Sorian, and I can’t do that whilst Elite’s waving his sword around in the middle of the street like the unhinged lunatic he is. Either I rein him in, or we take down Storm. Oh, the agony of choice.
"Just over there," the messenger said, his voice low, “There’s the main road. It looks like someone kicked an ant hill over, though. It’s swarming with people.”
Considering the day’s events, it was perhaps not that surprising that there was a sea of bodies to wade through to get to where Shinsou needed to be. But that spot, that waypoint in the middle of the road, was marked with the only suitable beacon. Elite Optic’s giant, half-tonne, calcium encrusted bone chassis could take the cynicism out of any man, at least for a few minutes. The beast stood at least three times the height of any of the citizens on either side of him attempting to flee the carnage, and as he faced towards the slightly battle worn but none-the-less suited up Storm Veritas, who was contemplating taking higher ground, the crowd of people charging through the road broke around the skeletal warrior like water around a solid boulder.
From Shinsou’s vantage point, he estimated Storm’s distance as between thirty and forty feet away from him, well within his attack range. The lightning mage stood in the road like some sort of threatening gargoyle, contemplating the next move. There also seemed to be mixed debris in the road consisting of both stone and timber, and opposite him, above Elite Optic himself, the figure responsible for dropping it into the road seemed to be hunched over the lip of the building’s roof. Shinsou couldn’t make out whether the person was a man, a woman, a threat or just a clumsy spectator who had accidentally knocked something off the roof, but the Telgradian noted him or her with caution before focusing his attention back on the infamous lightning mage.
He hasn’t seen me yet. I’m not one for cloak and dagger, but the sooner, well, whatever this is, is done the sooner I can find Sorian. Here goes…
Shinsou opened his free left hand, spreading the fingers wide. Within two seconds thin, forking tendrils of black and purple convulsed and converged around each other to form a pulsating amethyst spear of dark matter within the palm. There was a snapping noise as the strange electrical discharge of the weapon met the Radasanthian air, but then in an instant the lance was stable. A careful man, the Telgradian would not allow this fight to go on longer than it needed to. From the mouth of the alley, Shinsou flipped the shaft of the dark matter spear around and with all his might drove the point through the air towards Storm Veritas’s silhouette.
-
Predictably, Rayse's plan had failed. From this height, all Sergeant Skellington had to do was move out of the way, although it looked more coincidental than anything. He could try again, but it's likely he was too far away to get any purchase on his attacks, and his more wider range tactics had a strong chance of collateral damage. He had a fine line between what he considered an innocent or belligerent that routinely involved possession of weaponry. He briefly considered jumping off the roof to do the most visually appealing attack, but the thought of becoming a pancake wasn't the most mentally appealing. The watchtower-esque position allowed him to assess the situation, finding a lot of guards trying to section off the street. The people that were caught in the middle of the fight were nearly all gone, leaving only a few key figures on the scene.
However, unless Storm had been hiding his abilities from Rayse all this time, he didn't quite see how he was planning to dethrone His Royal Skullness. He observed Storm tripping over the ladders and audibly sighed.
By the goddess...
After the attack, Rayse made his way back down to street level, electing to take the stairs again after seeing the misfortune that befell ladders today. The murders still weighed on his mind, not because of any sense of morality, but just the fact that he was willing to dirty his hands. He wasn't like this before his involuntary trip to the planes, but now he wanted a more active role. He wanted to take risks. Maybe he sought a way to release all the rage that he typically didn't allow to boil up.
The circumstances around this job were very exciting. If this was a trap, the bounty went through a highly reputable source, which meant a very expensive client was corrupting the entire mercenary system. If the military was involved, then this person or organization not only had money but power, and not the magical kind.
Woodheight must have had some enemies in high places, too bad I took his goddess-damned life! We just killed the only person who could've let me in on the conspiracy. Well, if there's a conspiracy. I still haven't ruled out that this is all some circumstantial happenstance. Involving giant skeletons.
Either way, he still owed Storm for saving his life during the job with the ice wizard. Any opportunity to pay that back was appreciated. Once downstairs, he slammed the door open and fled into the street, drawing his sword. For a moment, the sword was not on fire, but merely glowing for an instant before returning to its enchanted fiery state. Rayse was in no state to analyze this development, but he noted it for the future. He managed to come out just in time to smack the flying spear away from Storm with his blade. There was no time to look for the source, although the effort actually hurt his arms and nearly bruised his palms. Whoever threw that was not kidding around.
"Storm! Change of plans, we need to get off the streets."
The contractor figured that getting away wouldn't be easy, so he opted for a distraction, which coincidentally was what Storm was hoping for. Sheathing the sword again, he retrieved two of his spices. The shot glasses were filled with clear, volatile liquid and were lit with with a flame that ran through his fingers. After breaking into a sprint, he pitched the bombs directly at General Bonefiend's face.
-
Sometimes Elite could admire an individual, sometimes he could appreciate their skill, knowledge or boldness, and yet the teenage personality before him was nothing of the sort. Attacking not for the first time with an insult that appeared to have come from his days as an hormonal teenager. He brushed off his fall and bite of the dirt like a man, but his continuous nature to strike some emotional cue with Elite Optic only showed that of a foolish immature mind.
Is this a devious plan of which to deceive me? Or are you really that bull-headed as to believe you can anger an immortal with mere words?
It was hard to guess what his exact motives were, but Elite was far from being a foolish goon. He aligned his sword with his shoulders, resting ever so slightly, but prepared for release to either attack or defend.
"If you desire so much as to act like a child," Elite's voice hummed a deep tone of irritation. "Then I'll treat you like one..."
As Marcus Heroptic he had never harmed a child, and yet with his given immortality, he was not privy to such choice of who he was to slay. The god that had brought him back did not discern itself with; child or adult, man or woman, human or animal. If they were to die, they would all die with the same bitter level of shallow respect. Elite tentatively walked forward, his eyes not locked on Storm, but his very surroundings. Were there more ladders or bricks to fall? This chaotic mix of old and new buildings within Radasanth was plentiful for loose or miscellaneous objects for those who desired use of such things.
Elite felt more aware of this now, he had been fooled once, by this child of a man, he did not wish to be caught out again. Like the ancient creature he was, his heavy frame scratched against the cobbled floor, crackling and breaking those that were unable to take his weight. He raised his hilt defensively, the tip of his rusty cleaver still resting upon his shoulder, and searched the skyline for anything suspicious.
Why are you just standing there? Your confidence is staggering...
It felt like the time to strike, even if the man's actions seemed illogical he was still a standing target who could be cleaved in half should Elite's blade strike true. Yet, as the gap came to a close, a piercing purple like spear flew ever close beside him. Like a colourful long tailed bird the spear glided through the air, twirling as it stylishly honed in on its target with supreme accuracy.
However, as amazingly as it looked to strike its target, a second man leapt out and into action. Without an inch of hesitance he struck the magical spear astray from its destination, and then within a moment, it vaporized into the wind like an rapidly dissipating pool of water.
Shinsou... Elite knew of only one man that displayed such an attack.
The thought of an all out battle excited Elite, a two on two duel was much more enticing. There was more chance of blood, more chance of gore, more chance of death. Who was this new man? Dark eyed and bushy haired, fearless and flavoursome for battle, he who did not waste time with idle words of a child.
Appreciation filled Elites Soul, finally someone of some merit had joined the fight, someone willing to put their body and soul on the line. Why they had come to battle didn't matter, it never mattered, but if they could really change such a mundane walk into an exciting duel of the city streets, then it was worth it.
Suddenly his hands erupted into flames, his forearms and grasped object lit up with the bright red and orange glow of true fire. Like an enraged predator the man sprinted forward, his hands abreast with the fire flickering in the wind, and his focus targeted on Elite. Without a second of thought the flames pods of fire were flung through the air, Elite raised his hand and sword before himself, shielding his face as best he could muster. The flaming glass pods shattered, the first smashing over his sword, its fiery pray whipping out into the air harmlessly, while alighting the upper end of his sword. The second breached past Elite's fingers, taking a slight deflection and cascading over his hand, arm and shoulder. His left side lit up with dark red flames that stuck to him with the liquid, that ever so slowly dripped off to the cobbled ground.
That could of hurt...Oh, my hands on fire...I look glorious!
Elite roared out like am enraged beast, and tensed his burning hand into a tight fist. This could have been agonising for any human, but Elite lacked of nerves and therefore pain, which in turn now allowed for a fearsome display of power. To be burning and be alive at the same time was something that no mere mortal could ever experience, and Elite could use this to his advantage.
He stepped forward into his new foes sprint and crouched into a low powerful punch, throwing his weight into his swinging, flaming hand that aimed into the man's own forward momentum.
-
Storm had attempted to create bedlam, however how such madness had erupted around him remained quite the interesting mystery. The crashes and clangs of metal and stone, coupled with the news of assassinations within the city’s limits seemed to have spread like wildfire. A flood of humanity came and went, passing by the assorted adventurers, oblivious to the risk that they had all presented. As they eventually understood the omnipresent and life threatening danger about them, the same fools scattered like ashes in the wind, complete with random routes and disregard for each other.
Following such flood came fire; Rayse had blocked a mighty spear of black and purple that Storm hadn’t even seen, and then blasted the looming titan with glass and explosive flames. Naturally, everything seemed to only further enhance the juggernaut, as the mighty soldier simply marveled at his newfound flames. A counterpunch thrown by Elite was surprisingly fast and terrible, sending both men scrambling in low rolls away. Storm could feel the heat warm his skin as the bony, burning hand soared past him. His partner in crimes was hit, however appeared to flash at the crashing shot, popping in and out of space. He reappeared at a distance of not more than five feet from point of impact in a low squat, holding his head in clear pain. He rose, grimacing, and moving back towards Storm and away from the beast.
Fantastic, Bone F*cking Brulee… Rayse just armed him with fire on top of his outrageous other abilities. Does he know how any of this works?
“Screw the stack of bones; we’re not going to be able to hurt him. Let’s get up top and away from him. Who threw the f*cking spear?”
The luxury of traveling with Rayse Valentino is that Storm didn’t exactly need to worry about the pyromaniac’s ability to keep up. Veritas took three quick strides before leaping high, soaring away from the colossus and onto the roof of a tailor’s shop. From there, he immediately set eyes on a man he knew as “Shinsou Van Osiris,” who commanded dark magic of some sort. They had fought the mighty dragon Sunwing together, alongside Elite Optic. The reunion had proven less than friendly.
If I can’t taunt that big idiot into overextending himself, maybe I can get him to do the dirty work for me.
Valentino was already behind him, wearing an absurd placidity in the midst of the chaos. Without hesitating, Storm had crafted a plan and intended to get to work.
“We can’t hurt Elite Optic with lightning or fire. I don’t know where in the blue f*ck Shin came from, but I’m pretty sure he’s not impervious to… well… everything.”
His eyes once more stole to street level, assessing both the Telgradian and the unstoppable undead not more than fifty feet from him. Shin was on the left of him, Elite to his right. Here he was, stuck in the middle with Rayse.
“Crossfire. It’s our best bet. Try to hit the little one when he steps up to take a crack at me.”
Without another word, Storm bolted once more, leaping and firing a single, harmless blast at the human adversary. He wanted attention, and to draw another spear he could hopefully dodge. He drew a path between his enemies, closer to Shinsou as he ran, hoping to bring the human within the range of the titanic metal blade of improved disease that would soon come thundering his way. He landed on the stones and sprinted, a very vulnerable mouse scurrying through an unsolvable maze. His speed had never been more impressive; a blur of bright white dress shirt and gray suit pants doing well to disguise the abject terror on his face. If he could dodge an attack, he could hopefully instigate friendly fire and get the hell out of Radasanth.
-
A lot can happen in fourteen seconds.
Shinsou had taken care thus far to make his way as discreetly as possible to his quarry. It hadn’t been easy, bounding from passageway to passageway in an attempt to avert both the tsunami of frightened people flooding out from city centre and into the arteries of the Radasanthian suburbia and also the attention of the lethal Storm Veritas. His faint footsteps in the last of the alleyways had remained undetected. The air seemed staler there and the smell of mildew grew in his nostrils. Finally, he had taken some pre-emptive action, thrusting a powerful dark matter spear in the lightning mage’s direction.
The black-clad man seemed to have appeared from nowhere, hitting Shinsou’s opening gambit with his fiery blade with as much force as he could muster and smashing it into a million amethyst particles. Cringing from the jolt, the dark haired figure lurched slightly before turning his attention quickly to Sorian’s pet, unleashing some concoction of hell-fire against Elite Optic, the noise of the shattering glass and roaring flames almost imperceptibly louder than anything else around. Instead of recoiling in horror as most mortals would have done, Elite was almost chuckling to himself silently at the thrill of being on fire. This second antagonist had provided him with the means to launch a flaming assault on both him and Storm with one swift, fiery punch.
This is escalating out of control, Shinsou thought to himself, observing events from the dark mouth of the brick alley, so it’s time to-
The Telgradian’s thoughts were suddenly cut short as he witnessed Storm, beyond human rules of logic or sensibility, take three brisk strides before leaping high onto the thatched roof of a nearby building.
Holy shit! How high did he just-
He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. Shinsou knew it was obviously going to be the person responsible for the dark matter spear. A breath of cool wind splashed against the Telgradian’s eyes as Storm Veritas finally rooted him out, using his high vantage point to scout the numerous corridors effectively and eventually locking stares with the former emperor of Telgradia. Although surprised at the man’s athleticism, and fully aware of what his enemy was capable of, Shinsou was not deterred.
If this is how it has to be, then so be it; sneaking around is now unnecessary. One more worry out of the way.
It was then that Shinsou’s brain went into overdrive, assessing all of the available options to him now that he had been discovered. Drawing Enpera was out of the question entirely. That sword would be like a lightning rod and would do the Telgradian more harm than good if Storm used any of his magnetism. The alley would be good cover, but being separated from Elite was a problem.
Dark matter is the way to go here. I’ll spay the bastard before he can give me the shock treatment!
Before Shinsou could consolidate all of the little thoughts and plots into a single master plan, Storm finally showed his hand. The smartly dressed mage unleashed a warning bolt of lightning across Shinsou’s bow, which struck the brick wall mere inches from his’s skull, before leaping down from the thatch roof of the building to Shinsou’s right and breaking into a full run. The edge of the stale-smelling passageway hindered the Telgradian’s view, and the only tell-tale sign of Storm’s blurry nightmare sprint was the increasingly loud rush of air accompanying his fleet movements.
What is it with all of the people on this planet? Elijah Belov, Storm, this black-clad guy with the sword… Everyone moves at the speed of fucking light! He’s going to be too quick for one spear, I’ll never hit him! I have to go all-out. Enpera Kurohitsugi might hit that other guy too, but possibly even Elite as well. Shit. I don’t have a choice. Damn you, Storm!
“Enpera Kurohitsugi!”
Behind Shinsou, a few feet above the crest of his oaken hair, mysterious arcane energies began to meld together in the alleyway. Forking tendrils of black and purple convulsed and converged around each other to form a fifteen foot wide circular portal of black and purple energy. The sheer corrosive force of the dark magic chewed into the grimy brickwork either side of the Telgradian, opening up a massive semi-circle into each of the town-houses flanking him that left a whistling expanse of space where solid stone used to be. Out of the black chasm that gaped behind him, protruding from the abyss of marbled purple and jet, were fifteen thin, dangerous spears of dark matter. They were all aimed in the general direction of where Storm was running, where he was likely to run and also where Rayse was attempting to fight Elite Optic. By now, the crowd was starting to thin, but there were still bystanders and rubberneckers ambling about. It was tough luck, as there was no more time to wait. The spears momentarily hung there with an ethereal hum as they waited for an order.
Without even having to motion, Shinsou commanded eight of the projectiles to attack at once. They shot out of the portal and wildly tore towards their intended recipients, forks of blue and purple electricity ripping at the cobblestone around them and scorching the surface of the road as they travelled. Through the electric trail of his powerful volley, Shinsou gave the implacable Elite Optic an incredulous stare.
This is your fault, you stupid sack of shit, by picking fights with people you don’t understand. If I die here, I’ll be back to fucking well haunt you and Sorian, I promise you.
The Telgradian, with his forehead already covered in a thin film of sweat, and his skin on his arms numb from the electricity in the air, suddenly recoiled as if he had been hit with some sort of unseen magic. As he doubled up, Shinsou’s eyes diluted harshly and he felt a cold pulse that seemed to ebb and flow throughout his body, throbbing powerfully one moment before retracting the next. The Telgradian struggled to regain his balance momentarily, forcing his legs to relax in order to restore parity.
Then, it came.
Kneel…before me!
The hushed intake and release of breath was ethereal and terrifying, and the two-toned, raspy voice inside his head was horribly familiar. That evil, dense energy had sensed during his battle with Elijah and Nanashi a week ago was trying to manifest again. Those brilliant white eyes were staring out at him. The Telgradian sky, suddenly blackened, was alight with terrible crimson fires. It was chaotic. It was utterly inconceivable. The only feeling in those seconds, measurable only by a sixth sense that Shinsou could never truly rid himself of, was the force of the Jal Shey magic trying to tear him apart from the inside.
As Shinsou returned to reality, he came to know what it was he was hearing. It was the all-consuming taint of the life-force from the Jal Shey within him.
It was Cavum Ira’s voice.
-
Excellent, an undead that isn’t bothered by fire. I’ve officially bit off more than I can chew.
Between dodging a giant, flaming bony fist and scrambling up a rooftop after a flying man, Rayse reconsidered his earlier thoughts on the excitement of the situation. Not only that, but Storm just named their pursuers. Did they all know each other? Was Rayse the only odd man out? Did he just say that massive skeleton's name... was...
Elite. Optic?!
The pyromancer was defeated. None of his nicknames matched up to the majesty that was Elite Optic. He briefly pondered whether or not it was still worth living, but Storm wasn't going to wait around for it. The lightning wizard had given up on doing any sort of damage to Elite, but Rayse was unconvinced. There was nothing in this world that couldn't burn, not even him, and he was made of fire.
The only fire I know of that can burn everything is the White Fire. I really need a better name for that. The Alabaster Flame? I feel like I've used that word already. Either way, I've never quite felt the same in the many years when it...
It wasn't the power that invigorated him, but the euphoria. After a ritual that saved his life when he was younger, he found himself temporarily wielding The Alabaster Flame, or at least being allowed to wield it, but only briefly. Only once. Since then, he felt as though he was chasing a high. Nothing in the world excited him, and the risks continued to escalate. Until today. Had he finally gone too far? Was he approaching death? He tried not to think about these things, instead rationalizing that it was all for his business. Elite appeared to revel in bloodshed... was Rayse going to be like that? Living for a singular purpose? Lost in his own obsession?
For the moment, he agreed with the concept of turning an even fight into a more favorable, unfair two on one.
As he jumped off the roof to join Storm on the street level, he saw firsthand the threat that the man named Shin posed. The dark matter spears made him instinctively twitch his right hand, ready to pluck his knife from its slumber under his pant leg. He considered Storm's plan, and thought that maybe it was worth trying to take out the smaller, but more mobile threat. He figured he would give it a shot, even though technically the dark mage was far more unpredictable. The contractor was once again excited by this prospect as he dashed forward, trying to catch up to Storm in order to launch a dual attack on Shin. The spears were powerful, likely able to turn Rayse into swiss cheese, but they carried the same weakness as any other attack on mobile targets. While Storm's speed afforded him evasion through agility, Rayse had a different boon. He jumped into the air and bent his knees, unsheathing the knife Kapteyn strapped to his right shin.
Right before the spears reached him, he turned into hundreds of fiery wisps, each scattering around the spears and leaving a trail of yellow in the air. This was the one way he could surpass Storm's speed, while sacrificing his vision for that moment and making him vulnerable at the destination. The spears continued on their flight, threatening friendly fire on the not so friendly Elite Optic. The wisps converged in the air above Shin's last position when Rayse disappeared, with the contractor holding the knife upside-down and ready to plunge it into Shin's neck from above.
-
How impressive…
Elite barely made a connection, the crunching blow taken away by the man’s personal vanishing act. He had never seen a human do that before, to vanish before him without a sound and leaving nothing behind but the image of a memory. Elite glanced over his shoulder, then to his right and left; the curious question of where had he teleported to racing around his mind. He peered over to Sorian who still stood quietly under a small stone archway of an alleyway. Most of the crowd had dispersed and yet he remained and watched as if a spectator at a game of sport. Elite let his jaw drop, insinuating his surprise in the only way a surprised skeleton could.
Sorian, however, showed the an equal amount of the opposite reaction to Elite. He was not impressed, not surprised and shocked by the manner of the man’s disappearance. He nodded the most casual of nods to Elite, an encouragement to continue while he watched and waited.
“Cowards!” Elite bawled out as his hand remained aflame and burning ever so lightly. He was never very sure of the long term effect of such a fire, but in reality, the thin liquid was simply a fuel that, while extremely flammable, was not enough in quantity to accomplish any serious damage to his frame.
The benefit of the more common streets of Radansanth was its disjointed structure, and while the buildings were many in number, and the centre of the city was much more in size and quality than the suburbs, the further out anyone travelled the messier the place was. Elite had long since noticed the bath of water that sat by the building's base. The old water container was still used like the local well, but Elite now had a use for it. He wandered across slowly; there was no rush for such cowardly opponents.
Start a fight and then run off…Cowards…Scum…Pointless…
Then as bizarre as ever, the two men seemed to charge back across the street. Elite felt confused, what illogical thoughts had led them to return? What were they doing? Had they hastily gone the wrong way and had to turn back?
Am I dealing with a bunch of mentally incompetent idiots?
However, it was now time for Shinsou to make his own impression, the Telgradian man using his most unique of attacks. The distinctive black and purple colours of his magic were almost pretty, but there was no mistaking who was intended to be at the other end of it. The spear like weapons fired out in their many, spreading across the local area in an impressive attempt to lay waste to everyone before him. Elite paused in his stride as he waited to see the impact upon his foes.
Yet, as impressive as it seemed at first glance, the dangerous attack was as clumsy as it was powerful. Elite could only watch as not only did they seem to miss at least one man, but also placed him in the firing line.
You idiot…
Elite barely moved but twisted his frame as he tried to step out of the way. He was struck regardless. The first black spear crashed into his rib cage, shattering several ribs and sending splinters of his bones scattering to the ground. The second struck high up his arm, a direct hit from the purple light. The strike pierced his bone and broke his arm clean off.
Elite stepped back, his burning flaming arm now rendered useless and pointless. His ribs were a broken wreck, and yet his legs, spine and sword wielding hand remained in working order.
Shinsou! You moronic tool…
Elite stamped his feet, slamming hard onto his own broken bones, and smashed them with an anger filled rampage. He turned back to the battlefield, infuriated with what had just happened. His hand gripped even tighter to his sword, and he let its tip drop to the floor as he started walking forward. The blade screeched and scratched across the cobbled floor while his broken arm lay smashed and burning behind him. Like a wounded soldier of war, he stepped back into the battle ready to bring death to those who dared damage him.
-
Storm, you stupid ass. All the power in the world doesn’t make up for being human. Should have taken your chances running through the trap.
Before he had dashed, the wizard knew he was taking a chance, but it quickly became apparent that he had grossly underestimated the sheer power of Shinsou Van Osiris. The looming goliath Elite Optic was an unmistakable force of nature, however the bag of tricks the Telgradian “human” brought to the table were something from another plane altogether. Knowing his distance from the bone man, he eyed Osiris as the thin fellow yelled some nonsensical language and summoned what seemed like a dozen of those same purple-black javelins.
The instinct was always to get up, hoping that adding the dimension of height would make him a harder target. The spray of ballistics came not in some logical procession, but rather in a singular, horrible blast that covered the entirety of the space through which Veritas traveled, an inescapable explosion of horror. Despite his leap, he felt the spear hit him with tremendous force on his left side, cleaving through his arm and driving firmly into his side before coming to rest somewhere in his chest cavity.
Ungh… f*ck…
He was barreled by the impact, rolling to the right by the concussive force, landing hard on his side and coming to a skidding, tearing halt upon the unforgiving cobblestone street. The abrasions to his shoulder, hip and face were immaterial next to the terrible wound he had suffered. He hesitated to even look before he gathered the confidence to peek at the horror that had manifested upon his left arm and side.
The great terrible spear had cut through his arm behind the bicep, likely shattering bone and tearing through flesh like a dart puncturing a balloon. Driving through his arm, it also had broken a rib and punctured his left lung, and his wounded flesh was exposed to a horrible, burning sensation that dizzied him. His injuries were indeed horrific, although the lack of medical knowledge available to Storm Veritas simplified his assessment of the damage.
“God, ahh… shit. I’m f*cked. F*ck you, Shinsou.”
Around him, the other two combatants had fared with considerable variance. A great slab of bone crashed somewhere behind him; the juggernaut had been wounded. Conversely, Rayse had pressed the limits of immortality once again, bursting into an invulnerable patch of flames that reformed with a casual confidence. Valentino reformed upon landing, looking no more stressed than a Radasanthian citizen returning overdue library books. In the echo of the fight, at least one citizen had been killed by errant fire, although sympathy took a back seat to self preservation for the lightning mage who found himself in dire straits.
Get safe. We need to get the hell out of here. No more surprises. No more ambushes.
Desperation forced the electromancer to gather himself quickly. His eyes wide with a coalescence of fear, pain, and anger, Storm gasped once more as the spear quickly shrunk and proceeded to disappear from his side in a twisting cloud of smoke, steam, and evil. Blood began to stream generously from the new vacancy in his arm, a harrowing site. Any movement from the shoulder screamed with defiant pain, but he was no longer physically skewered. He rolled slightly, groaning the death throes of a dog as he sat upon his ass, driving himself backwards across the street towards the brick building behind him. In front of him, looking confused and angered, was the bone titan. On his right, hidden in the mouth of the alley, was the dark summoner. A few exceptional citizens tended to the dead and wounded, but the flux of people had ceased, as if in their own puff of smoke. Nearby, Valentino sized up the situation, looking absurdly unscathed for the chaos.
“Rayse, we need to get the f*ck out of here, and we need to do it now. Close me up; I can’t move pumping blood.”
He lifted his arm some ten degrees, exposing the entrance and exit wound in his left arm and the horrible torn flesh that a flimsy dress shirt would do nothing to disguise. The deep red stains continued to spread in widening ovals down from where he had been devastatingly wounded.
While waiting for assistance, his own brand of fire grew. His right hand began to pulse white and blue, tendrils of electricity buzzing with a crackling sound as the scent of ozone filled his lungs, displacing the sickening smell of burnt flesh and blood. Like wetted dynamite, he had become volatile, and was ready to explode upon the first to attack him.
-
Shinsou didn’t have time to see what devastation he had wrought on those in the street ahead. The Telgradian didn’t see the dark matter spears shatter the calcium-fused bones of the titanic skeleton; smashing the beast’s ribs like glass and shearing his arm clean from his frame. Shinsou failed to notice the sickening evisceration of an innocent bystander’s internal organs onto Radasanth’s filthy streets as one of the spears cleaved a jagged path through the man’s midriff, before failing to strike Rayse Valentino. The dark mage couldn’t observe as his magical, otherworldly barrage horrifically wounded his former ally Storm Veritas, penetrating into his chest and puncturing his lung, leaving the electromancer writhing in agony in the street.
Shinsou couldn’t see any of these things because the world around him had vanished.
Everything had turned as black as an inkwell in an instant. Shadows lurked in the corners of the Telgradian’s eyes and on an unreachable ceiling high above his head. Shinsou could see nothing else.
Where was he? Shinsou could not remember the last time he had actually seen darkness like this. It was as if he had the eyes of a bat. When there was any source of light around, his eyes would naturally use it to pierce through the deepest shadows. Only now they weren’t adjusting. That wasn’t the only thing either. His senses were not working and Shinsou could not perceive the power of any of the people he had been with like he normally could. Elite Optic, Storm Veritas and the man he would come to know as Rayse Valentino had simply disappeared from existence.
Wait…
As suddenly as his senses had disappeared, Shinsou could feel something familiar returning. It seemed to be the life-force of black-clad man who had deflected his first attack. His energy seemed to almost be porous in this place, but Shinsou couldn’t actually see it, or him. Then, it came to him. There were imperfections along the Telgradian’s network of senses but flecks of Rayse’s light started to filter through the seemingly impenetrable darkness.
The scenery of Radasanth suddenly exploded back into life, though askew. The cobblestone street that expanded out from the mouth of the alleyway rested on a thirty degree tilt. The sodden, cold stone of the passageway rested against the Telgradian’s right cheek and the bitter odours of rotting garbage mixed with the scents of moss and grime.
What’s…going on?
The breeze of the day made Shinsou’s hair flap in the wind like the sail of a ship. The world around him seemed to blur; the houses, shops and streets smudging into a hazy grey puddle. His joints ached terribly from where he had impacted the hard stone floor. Then, the Telgradian tasted something salty. His face had been spattered with blood. It flowed in crimson torrents from a cleft in his neck, streaming down his front and pooling underneath him. The pain was agonising at first, but Shinsou couldn’t scream. It was as if the energy had been sucked out of his body.
A man emerged from behind him, his footsteps barely audible over the Telgradian’s harsh breathing. It was the black-clad man he had sensed, the one he would remember as Rayse Valentino. He had been waiting for a moment of opportunity and had travelled unseen over the street after evading Enpera Kurohitsugi’s devastating volley. In a single smooth stroke, the sharp edge of a blade had sliced through Shinsou’s neck, severing hundreds of nerve endings and sawing through the tendons and arteries in his throat like a knife through warm butter. The Telgradian had been too slow to even notice Valentino above him.
How did it come to this? There’s…no Citadel to save me. I'll die here, after everything that's happened, in a grotty alleyway in a dark corner of Radasanthia.
There’s no coming back from this.
It took Shinsou a few moments for it to dawn upon him he wasn't dreaming about what had happened as his breath hung pathetically on the air. His body was numb from the pain of his wound and the fear of what was now inevitable; a final and absolute death beckoning to him. Fate had finally come to collect. It felt like he was bound in concrete and no matter how much he willed it, Shinsou couldn’t seem to move. He couldn’t even use his last moments to look up and survey the carnage about him. Shinsou’s brown, dishevelled hair tumbled about the wind in heavy, blood saturated strands. Despite the force of the breeze and the beating pain in his neck, his golden eyes barely winced as his life began to ebb away.
-
The Niema River afforded the city many vibrant ports, littering the way to the harbor that lead out to open waters. It was the most popular escape route for any would-be criminals, but that also made it the most protected area in an event like this. Yet with so many ports, it was impossible to have full coverage, unless someone had the idea that only one port needed security. Standing in the shipping area overlooking a very specific dock that held a peculiar white yacht, a man wearing similar attire to Rayse was smoking a cigar. Guards patrolled around him, but never ventured too close, always skirting around the sharp-dressed man with equally sharp Akashiman eyes. Unlike Rayse however, he wore the full business ensemble of a black suit, a blue tie, and silver cuff links. He had short white hair, a scar over his right eye and left lip, and some wrinkles to denote his middle age.
This man's name was Shigure Taisuke, and he was working for a higher power. Sitting on a shipping crate next to him was a cup of tea on a small plate. The liquid was mostly gone now. The people he was waiting for were late. Maybe he overestimated their avarice, or their valor. He decided to wait a little longer.
- - - -
Rayse didn't bother sticking around to admire his handiwork. A flame jumped up from his hand and cleaned the blade of blood, and then he placed the knife into his belt for later use. He turned his back on the body and noticed the scent of burning flesh.
Goddess-damn it! Just what I wanted for lunch!
He ran over to the lightning wizard and assessed the damage as quickly as he could. Storm was rapidly losing color from his face.
Rayse started fishing through his bag as he said, "You're a mess, Storm."
Storm was unenthused. "Shut up and patch me up! Do you have any medical supplies with you?"
The contractor only had the cloth he used to bottle up his bombs, but it would have to do. He put his hands on Storm's wounds.
What can I even do here? I can burn the wounds close, but the damage is severe. I feel like I remember... I could do something more. The way I preserve myself in a memory and restore it in an emergency, the restorative flames that wash over me... I remember doing that to someone else. Where was it? Damn it! I'm out of time!
Elite was almost upon them, so Rayse had to act. He couldn't heal Storm, but he could stop the bleeding. He shoved a piece of cloth into Storm's mouth and let a fire run down his arm and into the magician's wounds. The pain was unimaginable. Storm looked up into the sky, but he couldn't see anymore. It was like a thousand harpies screamed into his ears at once. Every nerve ending near the wounds burned off in unison, the smell of burnt flesh the only constant in this new world of torment. At the end of it, Storm dropped to his knees, and Rayse quickly wrapped the cloth around him. He had no idea if Storm could even move anymore, but he was not one to underestimate the tenacity of a man with a strong will to live. He told the wounded man to get a head start while he stalled Elite.
Without another word, Rayse returned to the fray, stepping into Elite's warpath with his hands up. He noticed that the spears caused some damage to the giant skeleton, but he was still as dangerous as ever. The streets were empty, but it felt like the calm before the storm. If they stayed here any longer, the consequences would be dire.
"Before you bash me into a million pieces, hear me out!" He pleaded. "I'm sorry about ditching you earlier, I had to take care of a small matter. I'm sure you can relate; everything to you is a small matter. In short, I have a choice for you. You've seen me move, so rather than wasting your effort, I promise that I'll stay put if you don't like the choice."
Elite seemed receptive to this line of reasoning, but kept his one sword-hand raised. If this little snake started peddling some tripe, he was going to make him into an omelette.
Rayse sighed in relief. "I felt it right away, that you aren't just some construct or corpse. I was briefly like you once, I had a form with neither a beating heart nor a compulsion for breath, and when you lose the need for food, shelter, your other primal forces start to take over. You start to seek excitement, you start to think that you don't need to worry about surviving what comes next. A challenge is what you want, right? Well I'm here to give you one. Storm over there is half-dead already, it would be nothing for you to finish him off, and me? I'm nobody." He took a deep breath, taking care not to lose sight of Elite's gaze. "The place both of us are heading... it's far more dangerous than all of us combined. I don't know what incentive you've been given to do this, but I can give you a far greater one. What do you say? Will you join us?"
