Kylin Rouge: IC

[Abomination]

As Jame lead the dwarf deeper into the tunnel, the drow sprinted forward to try to follow but was abruptly stopped when Rayse rushed out and slammed him into the wall.

Rayse grinned, "Your opponent is right here."

Nightfly, originally startled by the attack, quickly recovered and even manage to get Rayse off of him by grabbing onto one of his curved rapiers and thrusting it upward, causing The Contractor to back off in short order. The dark elf knew better than to turn his back to Rayse again. The plan was a success: Rayse and Jame had separated this unstoppable duo, but that didn't make them any less dangerous individually. The real battle was only beginning.

The drow drew a second rapier, identical the other one, and ran at Rayse, trying to make his blades connect with Rayse's flesh. When he swept across, Rayse retreated, and when he thrusted forward, Rayse sidestepped. His feet danced a chorus of speed, his body moved with fluid motion. However, it was not a performance he could repeat. He was losing.

SWIPE! The blade barely cut through his arm as he sidestepped. He tried to make some distance, but the drow kept closing in. The longer this went on, the more chances Nightfly had to close the deal. So, during a dodge he reached into his pocket and lit a mini-molotov, throwing it onto the ground between them. The explosion separated the two, but the smoke quickly subsided. Most of the shards flew in the direction of the drow, but he seemed to have evaded all of them. As the last of the smoke cleared, he saw the drow in a defensive position roughly ten feet away while Rayse was holding onto another mini-molotov, holding it in front of him defiantly. The drow now knew the potential of these things, so he didn't dare come closer.

"What's wrong? And here I thought you wanted to kill me."

Nightfly relaxed his muscles, letting his rapiers slide painlessly back into their sheaths at his sides. He pulled something off his back that was covered in a cloth, and unwrapped it. It was a bow! Rayse took a step backwards, unnerved that he could have miscalculated this. Before he could make another move, there was an arrow pointed at him; in fact, three of them all held in place with one of the drow's hands. Not good. The arrows were loosed, and Rayse was sent scrambling away from their trajectories. He jumped, hopped, and ducked under the rain of arrows until several of them passed by his face before him and implanted themselves into the wall at his right, trapping him. Shit! He put his hands up to block his face at the last second. Although, the arrows passed right through his hands and then through his head, hitting the wall behind him.

He blinked. What just happened? The drow, hesitating only for a moment, released another volley of arrows that similarly passed through The Contractor. Then, he stopped, keeping his hands steady with the next set but not firing them. When the arrows went through his hands, he saw that part of his hand turn to fire to let the arrow through. That means... was this an ability of his? His intuition told him it was true, and that was good enough for him. Suddenly defiant, he stood tall and held his right hand in front, palm out as if inviting the drow to take his best shot.

He taunted, "Why stop? We were just getting started!"

Nightfly responded in kind, firing off one more arrow that whizzed through the air, impaling Rayse's right hand. He stood silent for a moment, his face covered in blood and staring directly at the arrowhead sticking out of the back of his hand. Then, the pain caught up with him. Shiiiiiiiiiiit! He ducked and jumped, dodging the next set of arrows. He rolled across the ground, snapping the wooden tail of the arrow, causing another shock of pain to run through his hand. Damn it! Why did it stop? Was there a limit? Whatever it was, this 'ability' of his was completely unreliable. He was still holding his molotov with his left hand, so he immediately lit it and tossed it at the ground between him and the drow.

Using the time gained by the molotov, Rayse pulled the arrow out of his hand, grinding his teeth and wincing in pain. He fought back the tears of pain in his eyes. He didn't feel very manly right now, but he didn't have time to cry about it. Deciding to himself to get rid of that bow, he ran into the smoke and found the drow on the other side, arrow pointed right at his face. Rayse thought that it was all over now, but he couldn't stop his legs; he couldn't stop his momentum. The arrow was loosed, but it missed, allowing Rayse to close the distance and grab the bow. Apparently, one of the shards hit the drow this time. He didn't know what happened exactly, but the drow's aiming left eye was closed with a red gash across it. Using the bow as a leverage point, he kicked the drow in the chest and sent him flying backwards. He broke the bow in half over his knee, and tossed its remains aside.

His right hand twitched as he reached for his knife, and as he grabbed its handle he found he couldn't pull it out of his sheath without an insufferable amount of pain. So, he pulled it out with his left hand. Of course, he wasn't left-handed, so now his advantage with knives was all but lost. Although, with the drow's missing eye, maybe they were back on an even keel. The drow recovered quickly, his expression unchanging. Doesn't that guy have emotions? He looked annoyed, but it was still the same face he saw before. The only difference now was that closed eye. Rayse reached into his pocket for another molotov, but after searching his other pocket as well, found them both empty. This day just keeps getting better. He held his knife in front of him, holding up his right hand as well, although he knew he couldn't use it for much.

The drow, however, seemed to take an altogether different position. It was the kind of stance you'd see a pool player take, right before knocking the last ball into the hole. Rayse thought he was prepared for anything, but he was wrong. The drow disappeared before his very eyes, and before he knew it, he felt a new pain: One in his left side. A huge gash suddenly appeared, spraying blood and nearly sending The Contractor reeling forward. What the?! He saw something out of the corner of his eye, and looked behind him, to see the drow standing in the same position, except now on the opposite side of him. Did he teleport or something? No... Rayse knew what this was. It was pure speed.

[Abomination]

The drow bent down and took the same position as before; that of a pool player. Rayse, still not having come up with how to counter it, could only guard his upper body and face, allowing his lower body to once again be vulnerable to this unique attack. He tried to watch close, but it was in vain as the drow vanished once more and a new pain emerged in his other side, except this time the drow cut a little closer to the center, and left the blade in. Rayse doubled back and fell to his knees, quickly pulled the blade out in case it was poisoned. It was one of the drow's rapiers. Blood rushed out of his body through the hole in his abs, and he instinctively wanted to reach for some bandages. Although, they were all in his traveling bag. As he looked at the bag that was several feet in front of him, holding his chest with his right hand, he got an idea. He got up painfully, almost audibly groaning and his body shaking like he had a cold, he turned around and once again put his hands up to brace himself. Although, this time he didn't wait for the drow to take his position.

He did something unthinkable. He bent his body, fighting back the pain, and held his knife in the same way that the drow was holding his remaining rapier. Nightfly made so little external facial movements that even a tiny change could detail entire feelings, and that was what Rayse felt. He felt that Nightfly was concerned about what Rayse was going to do. He was going to copy him. He probably thinks I can't do it. I'll show him that you don't fuck with me. The blood loss and pain was starting to make his vision blurry, but he had to make this count. The fact the drow only had one eye left was probably the reason those attacks didn't simply go through his heart, but he couldn't count on being lucky anymore. He lowered himself, and charged forward. The drow was roughly twenty feet away, and he felt like he wasn't getting any closer to him. How the hell did the drow do it? How did he achieve that speed? Rayse ran, opening his entire body up to a possibly finishing blow by the drow, but before the drow could attack, Rayse disappeared into flames.

The drow's eyes widened for once, a look of genuine surprise coming across his face. He thought that Rayse had, with only two looks, copied his entire technique. He was both right and wrong. Rayse was attempting to copy him, but in doing so he created his own technique. He was gone in a flash of fire, and reappeared in a flash of fire, nearly blinding the drow as Rayse stabbed forward. Although, his inexperience and sheer luck ran out just then, as the drow used his superior speed to dodge out of the way, merely taking a cut on his neck for all of Rayse's troubles. The drow backed up, holding his neck with his hand. A small stream of blood poured down his neck, but it wasn't anything serious.

Rayse was winded. He tried to follow up his attack with several thrusts and slashes, but the drow was too good at parrying. The Contractor found himself on the defense, trying to desperately avoid contact with the rapier's sharp blade. He backed up, farther and farther, his vision almost failing him. The drow was visibly angry now, and he was sloppy. That technique of his must've taken his entire life to master, and Rayse did it just like that. In a small way, he was happy to finally get some emotion out of the dark elf. He continued backing up, and in the drow's rage he found an opportunity to parry his blade and knock it out of his dark elf fingers. Although, the force of the attack sent his own blade flying out of his hands. The drow was unfettered by the loss of his weapon, he simply resorted to beating Rayse senseless. Now without the risk of being decapitated, Nightfly simply closed the distance between them and stuck his fist into Rayse's face, his gut, and everywhere in-between. Rayse felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. The drow lifted his right leg up and spun around, knocking Rayse several feet and onto his back.

Rayse turned his body around, so that he was lying on his chest. He could see the drow marching towards him, fire in his dark elven eyes. Rayse lifted his right hand off the ground, which was shaking violently, and pulled his middle finger back and placed his thumb on top of it. The pain of using this hand was unbearable, but he knew that this was the only one he could reliably aim with to make his one shot. Closing his left eye, he aimed. The drow didn't notice what was happening due to his rage, and that was what Rayse was aiming for. He let loose one of his fiery sparks, and it went into his traveling bag, which was now directly next to the drow. Both Rayse's and the drow's eyes followed the spark along its trajectory, and by the time the drow noticed where it was going, it was too late.

BOOM! Rayse covered his head with his arms, his body being hit by hundreds of bits of debris. Smoke filled the entirety of the mine shaft, and the glass, oil-filled lights attached to the ceiling burst into shards and went out. At the end of it, Rayse lifted his head, squinting to see through the new fog. Right in front of him was a black, crispy drow ear with a gold ring still pierced through it.

[Rhythm]

Can't even begin to tell how far in the future this would conceivably take place.

As the smoke cleared, two darts shot out from within the misty debris and punctured the light-emitting devices on the shoulders of the large, armored robot. The nanite-disabling red light stopped. The little girl on the ground sat up, staring upwards at her savior. She was looking at the back of an unfamiliar man, and yet, a familiar one.

"You okay?" came a familiar voice from the man. Then, the girl knew. This was no man at all.

He turned around, his curly brown lair falling bouncing as he laid his pale blue eyes on her. Even though it didn't look anything like him, it was Rhythm.

"Can you walk?" Rhythm asked, turning back to the attacker. Without a reply, she ran off, her body slowly reassembling itself from the nanite-destroying damage it had taken.

Analyzing subject...
...
...

Subject is a Class R model, encased in Standard Issue Type-C Battle Armor.

Class R. That means...

Subject is a Rhythm-series.

This machine was like him. How he was before being torn to shreds hundreds of years ago. Pure logic and calculation. It stood at a massive eight feet, an ogre-like robot whose head was completely covered except for one thin slit along its head from where it sees. Its limbs were thrice the size of Rhythm's, and it had two large squarish humps coming from its back. It was a gray model, just like he was. There was a small cannon protruding from its arm. It was the cannon that shot at his little friend after entrapping her with that beam.

Initial shock analyzed. Reserve power at 17%.

Rhythm almost made an outward sign of worry. 17%?! That means the blast nearly broke through his shield and destroyed him!

Nanite engine reactivated. Restoring optimal power configuration.

He couldn't enter the beam with his nanite engine online, so he turned it off and went to his reserve power to activate his surrounding shield. But now, it was payback time.

"I don't know if you can understand this, tin can, but I'm about to rip you apart, piece by piece!"

>> Activate overload.cpp

Retrieving data structure...
Activating program...
Power generation increased from 70% to 100%.

It was his ability. Normally, he runs at an optimized setting of power that can last him indefinitely, but for a brief period of time he can overload all his systems to produce not only massive overheating, but accelerated performance and power. He began to glow slightly. A red, hot glow. With that, steam began to rise from all parts of his body. His body was overheating, but he could take it. After all, this was his... moment!

He shot out, almost flying through the air with the speed of his sprint, charging at the metallic monster that dared to harm the person he cared most about. He sunk his fist into the machine's armored gut, blowing wind and smoke in all directions as the force of his fist radiated an aura as hot as lava. After the force of the impact, he noticed something was wrong and backed off, staring at his fist. The artificial skin had melted off some of his fingers, leaving the grayish metal of his former self. It was unheard of! His overloaded fist could cut through steel like butter, so why was this thing almost unharmed?! Not only that, but he seems to have done more damage to himself. His right hand twitched as some of the gears inside were damaged. He backed up some more, watching the robot. It hadn't moved since he saved her. What was it doing?

Analysis complete. Subject is a modified Rhythm-series. Model appears to be malfunctioning. Action: Termination.

A small red dot started glowing in the machine's eye-slit, going back and forth and then disappearing again. Then, something happened to Rhythm's amazement. It started glowing red, and steam was coming off of it.

Activating overload.cpp...

"N, no way..."

To think that the battle armor meshed so perfectly with the Rhythm-series unit inside was incredible. Is that the level of synchronization he used to have with it? Nonetheless, this was bad. Two holes opened up from the lumps on its back, and fire started coming out. Then, the machine started hovering above the ground.

Analysis complete. Target has rocket jets.

Suddenly, the machine leaned forward and its rockets propelled it forward, toward Rhythm. He couldn't react in time. He could only try to lessen the damage by jumping back as the attack came. It sunk its fist in his gut, nearly puncturing through his plating. He then found himself flung into the trees, crashing through several of them for nearly forty meters until his body finally stopped. He pulled himself up, clasping his chest, looking at the robot still standing there. The path of destruction in its wake was like a meteor that had come crashing through the forest.

Structural integrity compromised. Internal functions operating at 52%
Armor units 245 through 420 destroyed. Armor units 232, 560, 212, 209...

>>Can the damage report. Analyze weak points.

...
No weak points detected.

That was quick. The battle armor was top notch. Whoever designed it must've really wanted her back.

Unable to produce 100% power. Reverting to normal functions.

The red glow from him faded, and he was back to how he was. Luckily for him, the machine had also reverted. It seems that on that large body, a lot more energy was exerted to maintain that. If it wasn't for his speed in dodging the attack as much as he did, he would've been in pieces again. Not allowing Rhythm any rest, after its attack the robot turned to him and two cannons popped out from the side of his arms. Then, they fired, producing a large explosion in the spot where Rhythm was.

[Rhythm]

A figure burst out from the smoke, coasting along the grass as if he was skating on it. It was Rhythm's own rocket skates, giving him the speed he needed to execute his latest plan. There weren't any weak points in the battle armor, but just as the robot fired he found something he could use. He was going to give it all he had for this plan. He skated along the ground at high speeds, approaching the robot at an angle. Explosions went off right next to him, confirming his analysis that it needed time to aim those things. As he came within ten meters, the robot unhinged the top part of its body, like some tripod with a revolving top. Its upper body started spinning in place, firing off round after round at Rhythm. He was barely avoiding the blasts, the heat from them singeing his fake skin and tearing off scraps from his jacket. He made one revolution around the machine and then changed direction drastically.

He accelerated at full speed right towards the machine. As it re-aligned its cannons onto Rhythm, he jumped right as it shot, crossing his arms. Blades extended from the back of his forearms, and he rolled through the air and cut into a small hole connecting the machine's head and body. He bet all his hopes on what he thought was in that whole and landed behind the machine. It stopped firing. It stopped moving.

"Back then... my biggest weakness were those tubes going from the back of my neck to the back of my head. If somewhere in there was my former self, then that's where I aimed!"

The machine fell to its knees, then collapsed on its non-existent face. Rhythm sighed in relief and retracted his blades. It was over... or so he thought.

Warning! Warning! Warning! Target functionality detected!

"What?!" yelled Rhythm, turning towards the fallen machine.

It was too late. He processed a something going through his right arm, tearing it apart from his body. As something cut through his arm, there was a small explosion that knocked Rhythm back. The figure that did it jumped away. His right arm fell to the ground and he reeled from the sudden force. Small tubes and circuits jut out from the stub that used to be his arm, sparks crackling off the severed wires.

R-series detected.

That's it? He then noticed the machine. Its back had been opened from the inside like a cellar door, and it was hollow inside. The Rhythm-class that was inside had left its shell to continue its mission. But why was it so fast?!

It went in for another attack on Rhythm, and he tried to get it away from him by having something drop out of the bottom of his left arm. It was his own cannon, and when it deployed from his arm the trigger found its way into his left hand. He shot at the ground between them, causing a magical explosion from the magical crystal in his cannon. It was a white and blue explosion, and it bought him some time.

"I've gotta think like him. Like the me before me. What I would do here is back off and analyze my latest attack."

Strange anomaly detected. No traces of gunpowder.

Assessment: Proceed with caution. Avoid frontal attacks. Remove target's weapon.

Rhythm's own systems were disagreeing with him, however.

Subject is made out of 23rd Grade Polynomium. Subject has 253% movement capacity.

Basically, it was lighter than him because while he most of him was made out of makeshift steel or iron, the original him was made out of a lightweight material that absorbed enormous amounts of damage and conducted internal electric systems extremely well. It was faster than him because its weight is a fraction of his.

While it had his weaknesses, it was still almost impossible to catch. It was a gray robot with a helmet and visor covering its eyes, like he used to have. The rest of the face was rather human-like, but from the neck down it's nothing but metal.

Performing action: Retreat.

>> Override.

Confirmed.

This was his Artificial Intelligence. This was his free will. He was no longer just a machine; he could make his own decisions. And here, right now, he chose to go against his code and logic and continue fighting. He had to win here. His original model still had some nanite-destroying capabilities, which means that she was still in danger. He retracted his cannon, which was useless past its first shot anyway, and produced his arm-blade again. All he had now was his left hand, but it was all he needed.

After all, he was fighting himself. He had to think like a machine. A machine knew self-preservation, it was in his original programming. The past him would fight knowing his limits. So, it wouldn't expect him to do what he was about to do.

The machine charged at him from an angle, swinging its two extended arm-blades at him, some of the attacks being barely dodged, some of them barely connecting with Rhythm's body, some of them cutting through his plating, and others being countered by his own blade. He then purposely left his chest wide open and charged in.

Killing blow opportunity located. Proceeding...

Yet, instead of trying to block or dodge it, which he couldn't anyway at this point, he stepped into it and threw his left arm forward into the machine's head. The machine noticed the attack, but it was too late. They both stabbed into each other. One into Rhythm's chest, the other into the robot's right temple. While the machine knew Rhythm was modified, it didn't know to what extent. It would never have thought that Rhythm would have such a self-damaging move as the one he was about to unleash.

>> Activate electric_discharge.cpp

Warning! Program will cause severe damage and system shutdown.
Proceed?

>> 1

It was something he picked up on Althanas. A device that let him charge massive amounts of electricity through any medium in his body. The kicker was it did the same damage to him as it did to his target. Both of them light up with electricity, sparks flying and small bolts of lightning jumping between their joints. An explosion erupted from the back of the machine's head. Surges of electricity caused all sorts of explosions all over its body, sending it into a maddening twitch.

"I bet you regret being so conductive to electricity now, huh?! Now, for the coup de grace!"

With one final surge, he sent a massive amount of electricity into the machine, causing a brilliant display of lightning bolts to erupt from its back, sending its charred remains to the ground, its blade and Rhythm's blade both breaking off. There was another chief difference between them. Rhythm's gift, his nanite engine, allowed his body to recover from even the gravest of internal damage, so after a while he'll be back to normal. However, the machine was out for good. The triple-redundancy of its memory cores were all fried, and it had nothing left. He had another reason to thank her, his creator.

He collapsed on his back, his eyes losing their color as his systems started going offline. He felt it. The feeling that he was real. To defeat himself as he was... it was a strange sensation. For the first time, he felt like he was different from the machine he used to be.

[Rayse Valentino]

Home. The place you belong. It was something Rayse hadn't had in a long time. The chilly morning air was his daily reminder of where he was born back in Knife's Edge, Salvar. The long, cold winters. The feeling of snow under his palm, the taste of a beer so icy that a chill ran down his throat as he drank. With these sensations lost to him, he felt like he was always in a foreign place. He had a warmth that wouldn't go away, a dazing sensation of heat that followed him wherever he went. No matter what he did, he couldn't just relax and lose himself like he did back in Salvar. He couldn't let go of his worries, his fears, and ultimately he lost sight of his goals in this world.

Back in Salvar, Rayse had three things that he always wanted: Wealth, power, and control. To live his life to the fullest. To ascend to a higher level of existence. To take orders from no one. For the longest time, he only had control.

His self-determination lead him down a variety of dark paths, and he had no regrets. Then, he found wealth. Not just money, but the true wealth of the security of his lifestyle. He could go anywhere, do anything, and not worry about how to pay for it, or if he had to agree to any stipulations. Finally, he found power. Strength of mind, body, and spirit to move through those that would stand in his way. With all his goals met, there was only one thing to do: Push all three to the limit- become the wealthiest, have the most power, exert the most control. In his pursuit of what could be infinity, he lost what he had started with: Control. The power that brought him new opportunities also brought him consequences.

He didn't know how long ago it was now, but he started noticing something odd. His body was slowly turning into pure fire. Sometimes his limbs would pass through objects he would try to move, other times he felt his very balance start slipping in the wind. Dying was always a possibility in his line of dangerous work, but he never managed he could simply fade away. Done in by some sort of magical sickness. After finally gaining what could be all the tools needed for him to become something great, he was on the verge of losing it all.

So, he sought a cure. Taking him through some of the most desolate regions of Althanas, he searched for his own salvation. It was a daunting task, not only for how little he had to go on, but for the effect it was having on his conscience. What meaning was there to his existence? If he took The Company beyond the clouds and secured for himself the most exclusive lifestyle of all mankind, what would be left? A feeling of unfettered despair came creeping in, invading his thoughts. When he lived in Knife's Edge, he simply tried to survive, hoping for a better life someday. What could he do now? Eventually, he managed to find something. A rune specialist converted some magical artifacts into pill form, and told him to take a couple every day.

He should've been ecstatic that he secured his survival, but the journey had taken its toll on him. He felt like he had discovered a lack of purpose, a lack of meaning to his existence. Maybe if he returned to his schemes, he would find what it was he was meant to do in this world. So, that seemed like the only option available to him. However, there was one little detail that made his plans much more difficult: He had to take the medication for two years. Two years of not knowing whether or not he could stick around or burn out.

"I'm warning you: Don't take anymore than two. You could recover faster, sure, but the side-effects would be severe. Violent, aggressive tendencies, loss of memory, nauseousness, maybe even complete loss of control of your entire body. Don't do it."

Those were the words spoken to him by his 'doctor'. However, Rayse had already made up his mind. He had no time to wait around. So, he began his greatest ordeal of all: Trying to turn two years of medication into two months. That was at least three times the recommended dosage per day. He would remake himself anew, starting with his most important and cherished goal: Control.

"... Ugh... W-where am I... ?" said a groggy Rayse, finding himself on the ground in the woods.

The morning light pierced through the canopy of the trees, and as Rayse got up he rubbed the sand out of his eyes. His back hurt, his throat was sore, and his eyes itched. His clothes were dirty. He needed to get some booze down his throat, and fast. Looking about his person, he discovered that he had lost his traveling bag again. Luckily he never seemed to lose his essential belongings in his pockets, but it was still annoying. Crunching twigs between his shoes, he started walking in the direction of a clearing. It was actually a dirt road, and Rayse could only guess that he was on it yesterday.

Time was another sensation that was lost to Rayse recently. Taking too much of his medication left lasting holes in his memory. Sometimes it was only the last day, other times it was more. Since he knew he had to keep taking his pills yet keep his sanity intact, he had days in which he took half a dozen to a dozen pills, and other days when he took the standard two to get his bearings together. On the influence of the medication, Rayse probably did questionable, maybe even extreme things, and apparently drugged-up Rayse liked to travel. Every time he woke up from one of his binges he was somewhere new and feeling like shit. It was like a journey of sorts. Living day by day, in a way he was experiencing life from a different vantage point. Instead of staring at the sun, he was staring ahead. Not worrying about lofty goals like fame, power, or fortune, he was simply trying to survive, filling his life with the hope of yet another day to spend under the sun. Maybe after all of this, he would come out with the answer he was looking for. Or maybe he'll be consumed not only by the rune of fire that controls his body, but by his own despair.

So...

Where was he this time?

[Rayse Valentino]

I'm a pretty impatient guy, better store this somewhere so I don't forget it. I'm gonna use this stuff in Mortal Intervention so don't click the spoiler button if you want to read it from start to finish, but anyone with comments/suggestions should give me some tips. Trying to make this thing the best that I can. Biggest issue is the dialogue. I'll need to make it a bit more creative when I actually get to posting this stuff. Oh, and I skipped most of the setting. Will need to think up some detailed setting and be able to use it in some creative way I guess.

Spoiler:

This time, the entrance to the catacombs was guarded. It was one of Denebriel's lieutenants. He was making sure no mortals could get beyond this point.

--

"You two go on ahead. We don't have time to waste on garbage like him. Go!"

"What did you say?!"

"Be grateful. I'm about to show you something I was saving up for later."

Starting from his sides, his arms, his legs, various thick, black tattoo lines crawled across Rayse's body and converged in the middle in perfect symmetry. Even his face was covered in the strange, almost tribal-looking marks.

--

Far behind Teric and Caden, a bright light spread throughout the halls for a moment and then disappeared, followed by a short scream that was quickly muffled out. A minute later, Rayse had caught up with the two.

--

(The room before Denebriel's is huge, and plated with a golden-looking material that's extremely strong.)

(Tyray is in the way of the trio. He immediately goes to attack Caden Law with a powerful burst of air, but Rayse grabs the wizard and makes them both burst into flames and reform a few meters away.)

"Don't get yourself killed. We might need you to save us later."

(Rayse keeps Tyray occupied while Caden/Bloodrose take the seal off the door and enter the spellchamber)

--

"Finally, we're alone," smiled Tyray, pressing down upon his cane in anticipation. "I hope for your sake that you've improved since we last met."

Slowly pulling his Damascus longsword out its sheath on his back, Rayse revealed that the entire breadth of the blade was wrapped in thick, black threads.

"I've been waiting to try this out," he mentioned casually. "You should be honored. It took all of my thread to wrap this up."

The thread was the special spidersilk that he procured from one of his allies on a job a while ago. Especially reactive to magic, it was the perfect tool in Rayse's arsenal. He snapped his fingers with his free hand to produce a flame on his right thumb, which he rubbed across the blade, setting the threads on fire. Although, it was a strange fire that immediately started burning intensely despite not reaching more than an inch beyond the blade. With both hands on the handle, he pulled the sword up above his head. Stefan Tyray remained motionless at this action. He was somewhat curious to see what the young man was up to. With a strong heave, Rayse swung downwards, stopping just short of the floor as he angled the blade towards his side so that it stopped behind him. In the arc of the slash, a flaming crescent raced towards Tyray, who disappeared and reappeared several meters away as the crescent hit the wall and exploded, spreading a cloud of smoke throughout the room that was quickly dissipated by Tyray's magic.

Denebriel's servant lambasted Rayse, "You'll need to do better than that to hit me, child."

Indeed, Tyray was a hard target to hit. He had the unique ability to manipulate the air around him, allowing him to not only move his body throughout the room in an instant but also to quench the much-needed oxygen out of Rayse's flames. Every time he dodged he created an after-image of himself that persisted for a couple seconds in the space his body occupied. However, The Contractor had no intention of losing. If he couldn't take him on from a distance, then he would have to close the gap.

Disappearing into several streams of flame, Rayse reformed behind Tyray and swung at his torso, once again producing a flaming crescent as Tyray dodged to the side using his air manipulation. As the crescent hit the wall and exploded, Stefan pointed his palm at Rayse and released a torrent of highly-pressurized air in his direction, sending the young man flying backwards in pain and slamming into the ground, knocking the sword out of his hands.

"Damn!" groaned Rayse, slowly picking himself up. "Feels like I got hit with a train on that one..."

"Of course!" Tyray raised his arms, palms pointing upward. "The unseen is my ally. I simply suck out all the air between us, then forcibly fill it back up. Causing you pain is but a trifle."

Heh, then I'm sure you actually need to see me to be able to attack me. Rayse fished into his side-pouch and pulled out a small tar-based mini-molotov. Lightning it, with his thumb, he tossed it at the ground between Tyray and himself. The black, choking smoke immediately filled the room, but Denebriel's servant didn't move an inch. He turned around and pointed his palm into the smoke. Suddenly, the smoke dispersed from around his palm and once again Rayse hit the floor violently. The rest of the smoke vanished as well.

Tyray sighed, "You probably thought I needed to see you, right? You are beginning to tire me. Where was that power I saw?"

Rayse picked himself up again, but now he had a few streams of blood dripping down his face. This wasn't going anywhere. Was this the extent of his ability with that storehouse of power? Regardless, he couldn't afford to not use it anymore. The tattoos formed all over his body once more, and his body ignited like a match, burning softly with an orange glow.

"Ah, there it is," Tyray smiled. "Now! Show me what you can do!"

"With pleasure," Rayse smiled back.

--

With one knee on the ground, Rayse struggled to get back on his feet. Finally managing to do so, he glared at Tyray relentlessly. The tattoos all over his body were starting to fade.

"You know," Rayse said between breaths. "All this toying around with me is doing you no good, old man. By now, Denebriel's powerless and getting her ancient ass kicked."

Tyray shook his head, "Is that what you think? What do you think I've been fighting you with this whole time, eh? It's The Sway! Created by Denebriel before her exile, and built up to what it is today through generations! All her lieutenants have access to its limitless potential. In fact, we're standing over the source of it right now! Under this room is an enormous cave of crystals, and some of them retained the great powers of The Tap. We used those crystals to form the channeling point for the power of the Ethereal Sway."

Rayse looked down at the ground. He was starting to notice something odd about it.

"You want to know why I didn't kill you before? I wanted you to bring someone to seal off Denebriel's connection to the Eternal Tap! While she's been missing all this time, I have been right here in Knife's Edge, honing the power of The Sway and making it my own. Now that you've sapped her of her main source of power, I am far more powerful. Once I've taken care of you, Denebriel, and your friends, I will proceed to take control of Salvar myself!"

Rayse looked at the spot where Stefan initially attacked Caden Law. There was a crack in it. None of the walls took any damage from any of the attacks, but the floor did?

"I can't believe how well this has worked! Centuries of waiting, wondering how I could possibly usurp her, and you come along and do it everything for me! It's been hard to contain myself until now! Hahahahaha!!"

Something clicked in Rayse's head, and then he turned back to Tyray and gave him one of the most confident grins of his life.

"Yes, I get it. You're some sort of super genius that's going to rule us all. That's great. Now shutup."

The tattoos disappeared fully from his body, but he caught fire again. The fire burned hotter and hotter, turning from yellow to orange to blue and finally... white. Engulfed in a semi-transparent white fire, jumped into the sky and pointed his right index finger down on Tyray.

Tyray was interrupted from his cackling by the new development, "Hahaha! Ha... Hmm, what's this? Is this a new trick? White fire? Nothing is that hot."

"Then get ready to be blown apart by nothing!" yelled Rayse, firing a concentrated stream of fire from his index finger that smacked into the ground where Tyray was standing, piercing most of the way through it and then exploding.

Tyray appeared on the other side of the room, his hand on his heart. He... he almost didn't make it in time! How did Rayse's attacks get so fast? Why couldn't he extinguish the flame before it reached him? However, Rayse wasn't interested in Tyray at the moment, as he used himself as a human cannonball to plow through what remained of the apparently thin floor to reach an enormous crystal cave below. He landed on the ground and looked around in wonder. Something like this was under Knife's Edge? Denebriel's usurper whisked himself through the hole created by Rayse and appeared some distance away from him in the cave.

"What's going on here?!" Tyray demanded.

"Oh, it's simple," Rayse replied. "I simply took what was left of my excess power and turned it into this fire. The flame that surrounds me is the last card in my deck."

Tyray was jovial again, "Hahaha! So you've given up! Once I extinguish that flame, you'll be helpless! Well, I must say it was entertaining, but I have a kingdom to conquer." With both palms pointed at Rayse, Stefan let loose one of his strongest winds yet, surrounding Rayse and piercing through his flames but not hitting him. After a few seconds of this, Tyray's mood was broken once again. "W-why? I sucked out all the air from around you! What is that flame feeding off of if not air?!"

Rayse smiled, "Simple. It's feeding off my ambition."

Tyray was flabbergasted. How could that make any sense? Whatever, it didn't have to! All he had to do was take him out and be done with it. Clearly he needed more power to douse that fire, and he had plenty of it here at the heart of The Sway. Whisking himself to a small altar surrounding by glowing crystals, he stood in the center of it and drew upon the greater powers of The Sway.

--

"Your flame is sputtering," Tyray noted confidently. "You made this quite a challenge, and for that I thank you. I bid you farewell!"

Putting his hands together, he channeled the power of the ethereal spirits into his being. Anyone who got near him for more than a second would be vaporized, but a second was all that Rayse needed. Disappearing from his spot and reappearing in front of Tyray, Rayse snapped his fingers and below him a flame moved along the ground in several lines. From dagger to dagger, these lines formed the shape of a star around the altar. When he threw those weapons earlier, he was actually forming that shape with some thin spidersilk attaching them end to end. When he said it took him all his thread to wrap up the sword, he was lying.

Suddenly, Rayse's fire turned into an enormous upward beam of light, completely covering the altar and piercing the ceiling of the cave above them. After all, the strings amplified any magic that came in contact with them and the shape allowed an upward momentum of said magic. With Rayse at the apex, this was his most powerful attack yet. For how old Tyray was, he sure was arrogant. Thousands of years without a challenge and a feeling of superiority over the world only helped to fuel his ego. His greatest mistake was not thinking that Rayse would use the same tricks he used upstairs down here. Only someone with everything handed to them would think they could win just through sheer force. That was the difference between them. It was why Rayse hated the nobles. It was why he left his noble family to build who he was from the ground up.

"Do you feel it now, Tyray?! This. Is. My. Ambition!"

Rayse, engulfed in the beam itself but able to withstand its heat, could see Tyray's form chipping away until there was nothing left. The white beam of light tore through the ceiling, interrupting the battle above by nearly incinerating Denebriel who backed off just in time. The beam continued, piercing through the roof of her spellchamber and continuing upwards, finally exiting through a street in Knife's Edge and into the sky. When the beam stopped, Rayse's white fire was gone and he was standing in a crater where the altar had been. The glowing crystals that were arranged around it were gone, and thus the influence of The Tap on this place was lost. The Sway was no more. Wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt, Rayse felt like he was just in an oven. Was he back to normal? It sure seemed like it. Before he could celebrate, however, there was one more task to be done.

--

(Caden Law, Bloodrose, Rayse vs Denebriel)

(Bloodrose's + Rayse's connection used as catalyst for a great illusion/dream spell by Denebriel that puts them in a trance)

(Rayse's dream)

(Bloodrose's dream)

(Caden Law protecting the vulnerable Rayse+Bloodrose from Denebriel's attacks)

(Rayse's dream's Bloodrose and Bloodrose's dream's Rayse make the same decisions that Rayse/Bloodrose did, so they snap out of it)

(Rayse/Bloodrose combo attack right as they awake from the trance to finish Denebriel off)

(Denebriel) "...But... How... ?"

(Rayse) "Even if you change my history, I'll still end up who I am are today. The only one who changes my destiny is me!"

(Outside)

(Teric) "It's another cold day in Knife's Edge."

(Rayse) "Yeah... too bad I can't..." Rayse couldn't believe it. He was shivering. He was feeling it! The cold! He could feel the cold again! He turned away from Bloodrose to hide the tears forming in his eyes. "I'm... home again."

(Possible party involving priceless elven drafts)

[Rayse Valentino]

Storing a post here, seemed to work out pretty good last time! Don't look if you're planning to read For Lack of Empathy when it's done.

Spoiler:

(this assumes Anglekos had Rayse grabbed the cigarettes so I don't have to include it, but if he posts and it turns out he didn't I will edit accordingly. also single parenthesis stuff is to be fleshed out, as before)

Old Ettermire. (finish monologue, describe Old Ettermire)

The three of them stood at the edge of the massive opened window. Smoke poured out of the top, and the drop to the alley below was about 12 feet, about triple the height of the tribal kid. Sitting on the edge, Rayse dropped down first, feeling a bit of strain as he landed on his feet, but nothing that would keep him from running. He turned around and motioned for Vincent to follow. The other teenager mimicked Rayse's earlier motion, and also dropped down. Rayse took that to mean they were ready to go, so he started running only to find that Vincent was still standing under the window.

"What's the hold up?!" Rayse yelled.

"Come on, kid, I'll catch you," Vincent smiled. The boy was still shaking nervously on the edge of the window.

Rayse couldn't believe it, "Are you serious? You're going to get us both killed! Let's go!"

"I'm not leaving without him!" Vincent shot back, and then looked back up at the kid. "Come! There's no time to be afraid! Let yourself go!"

The kid swallowed hard, and then sat down on the edge of the window, slowly sliding himself off. He couldn't bear to watch, so he closed his eyes as he pushed himself off. His body crashed into Vincent's chest, and they both fell to the ground. After getting up, they joined Rayse and ran into Old Ettermire.

(they get into a house with a door, close it behind them and lock it. they're in the darkness.)

They were all exhausted, the tribal kid especially, who was breathing heavily on his back on the stone floor. Rayse, ever the one to forget the immediate danger to pursue other priorities, looks incredulously at his friend.

"What's up with you, man?" He said in a harsh whisper. "Why are you taking the kid with us? He's only going to slow us down."

Vincent understood where Rayse was coming from. It was a reasonable concern, as they came very close to getting axes lodged in their craniums. Still, if it wasn't for the kid then they would've never got away in the first place.

"I know what you're thinking too," Rayse continued. "The whole damn reason we got jumped is because of this kid! We don't owe him anything!"

"We owe him a promise," Vincent replied. "We agreed to guide him to the train station. Nothing has changed about that."

"So this is about duty? Who cares about that shit?"

"I do."

Their eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and they saw that they were face to face. The thing about friendship is that true friends aren't carbon copies of each other. They can have disagreements and fights about all sorts of things, but the caveat is that they will always move on. Sometimes they would fight and not talk to each other for a day or two, then go back to normal as if nothing ever happened. Other times, Vincent apologized even though he didn't truly believe he was at fault. Rayse would never apologize, but his sheer helplessness made him drop the subject. Vincent was the only one among them with any semblance of a plan.

"Do what you want, man. Just don't get us killed."

"I won't. I promise." Vincent looked at the kid. "Got a name? I'm Vincent, and my idiot friend over here is Rayse."

The kid hadn't said a word up until this point, and he had no reason to do so. However, the sincerity of Vincent's voice made him trust the teenager, and for once, in a raspy naive, he replied, "R, Richard."

"Pretty normal-sounding for some mystical child."

(anymore dialogue? who knows. maybe a scene before all this where the pursuers try to get the door open, notice it's locked, and then give up and move on. otherwise, that happens later.)

A light suddenly illuminated the old room, showing the faces of the three. Rayse held a lit match, and used it to light one of his pilfered cigarettes. Before he could put it in his mouth, Vincent slapped it out of his eyes and stamped it out.

"H-hey!" Rayse said, in a tone that changed halfway to a whisper.

"You trying to get us killed?!" Vincent scolded. "You think they won't bust down the house that smells like smoke?"

"Damn it, man, I haven't had a smoke since I got off the train."

"You're so single-minded, Rayse."

"Listen to the kid," came a gruff voice from the back of the room. The three bolted upright and put their hands up, looking for the source of the voice. "Calm down, I'm not after you."

(maybe Richard creates a light, actually. who knows?)

"You don't want to get caught, after all," the voice continued, coming into the light. It was a tall drow with long white hair, with a certain sadness in his eyes. He was wearing a brown tunic. "It didn't look like you were leaving, so I thought that I would go first."

"Who the hell are you?" Rayse asked.

"There are two kinds of elves that go into houses like these: The poor and downtrodden, and illicit deal makers."

"Which one are you?"

"Don't get me wrong. I may be poor of heart and soul, but I am not lacking in coin. I thought I had a deal here, but apparently I was ditched. It happens in this business. Look, I'm not going to tell anyone where you are, but you better leave soon. Once they figure that you stopped running and started hiding, they'll check places like these as well."

"Why are you helping us?"

"I don't know. I'm no good guy. Let's just say that us drow aren't all the same. I look forward to the day where we can openly trade with Salvar, you know the kind of trade where merchants can come into town without fear and set up shop. I long to see your city of Knife's Edge, but instead the only ones allowed to go are Graf-lovers and royalists." He sighed. "Take it easy, little ones." He walked up to the door and unlocked it. He looked at Vincent for a moment. "Duty isn't all it's cracked up to be, kid."

Opening the door, he looked around to make sure nobody was seeing him leave, and closed it behind him. Vincent did not think of his words at the moment, but little by little they started to eat away at him. Was he really doing the right thing?

Poor of heart and soul. I would not learn the meaning behind those words until much later.

(some more stuff later maybe)

[Rayse Valentino]

Nearly a year has passed since the last post in The Bitter King. While I still hold out hope that Revenant will return to complete it with me, the spark of creativity does not burn forever. Already I feel some of my ideas slipping away as I wait. I will get them out of my head with time, and if Revenant isn't back before I finish it, then... I dunno. We'll see if I did any good on my own. I like writing with others, because every time, without fail, whenever I involve another they take one of my ideas and make it better. They give it more life than I would have on my own. Two people (or more) means more possibilities, more creativity, and from the best of what those people come up with are what you see. I can't help it if some people think of writing as a casual hobby to pick up and drop when there's other people on the line, their heads filled with a story they want to tell cooperatively, but I can't control how people spend their spare time. Under the spoiler will be the start of my solo completion of the thread. Let's hope it doesn't come to this.

Spoiler:

It didn't take long before the scenery of the gray desert was replaced with jagged structures sticking out of the ground. They found themselves in a forgotten city, buried by the sands of time with only the upper spires visible above ground. The ground was harder now, the dust a mere sheath for the buildings that sought to escape their fate. With a quick glance, Rayse noticed that he couldn't see the end of the ruins, and that they were going deeper into them.

"The Black-Bones," Gor'Havah started. "Live at the center of all this, the tallest point of the forgotten city. We'll have to be more alert from this point on."

The similarities to The Warrens were growing as they traversed through the ruins. Maybe this was The Warrens of the Third City, the locus point for buildings that found themselves in this plane. There was no wind, no animals, just an unnerving quietness to accompany them. Rayse wondered how Gor'Havah planned to sneak into this fortress, but there was no reason to doubt the elder ghoul now.

It was when Gor'Havah suddenly stopped and looked at the sky did Rayse wish they had the stillness back. The contractor followed the elder ghoul's gaze and saw something floating very far away. It looked tiny from his perspective, and he had to squint to make sense of it. The most he could tell was that its shape was spherical, and that its front was merely... a face. Was it a floating head? Rayse almost didn't take it seriously until he walked up to Gor'Havah and saw his expression.

Gor'Havah kicked the ground and nearly flew into one of the spires, using it as cover. "Damn it, just our luck to run into a beholder. We need to hide, now!" Rayse followed suit, about to take out his beak dagger when he noticed that the elder ghoul was not even attempting to wield his scythe. It seems fighting it was futile even for him. The contractor looked around for something to hide under, after all the thing had not spotted them yet. It'll go away if they remain unseen, right? Gor'Havah moved into action, motioning for Rayse to follow him as he headed toward what looked like a stone plateau that stuck out of the ground a few feet. He knelt down and started digging until the ground gave way in front of him, flowing into what looked like a window. He slid into the hole without hesitation, and Rayse followed right after.

It was pitch black in there, with the exception of the small ray of light coming from the hole. As Rayse looked back, he saw Gor'Havah finally wield his scythe, and a shocked expression filled the contractor's face, because he knew what the elder ghoul was about to do. Before he could do anything to stop him, Gor'Havah caused the ceiling to cave in and close up their entrance, submersing them in darkness. Even after burying them alive, Rayse still felt apprehensive, as if talking could still incite the monster. Their vision was restored after a few moments as Gor'Havah produced a small stick and cracked it in two, causing it to grow a light along the length of the halves. He gave one of the pieces to Rayse. After calming down a bit, the younger ghoul figured that the elder one wasn't suicidal, and that there was another way out.

"All these buildings are connected," he said, putting his scythe away. "We'll go in from below."

Rayse nodded. So this was your plan? Looks like Gor'Havah was plotting a subterranean infiltration the whole time, but likely wanted to get a bit closer before going down.

The elder ghoul lead the way, heading down a spiral staircase in the corner of the room that lead to the catacombs below. The ordeal made Rayse realize that the Black-Bones lived above ground, in plain sight to monsters like the one they escaped from. If they got discovered, it would mean the end of them.