* ***-Observer's Prospective-*** *
Amongst a creeping black haze, two individuals drew closer to an unassuming five story high brick warehouse. Its windows boarded, doors built over.
"Shouldn't have sent them away. If something bad is going on here, they should know, see it for themselves"
A burly meat hulk of a man dressed in a black tailcoat tuxedo voiced his disapproval. Bez, former Captain of the Tyrants Rest Guardsmen.
"They're not ready"
Replying to his concern was a slender, bronze skinned woman. Thanks to her three inch heels, their eyes stood on equal level. Princely, elegant, she was dressed in a stylish suit with shimmering vertical strips of gold.
Over her outfit, straps and holsters ready for weapons foreign to this world. As such, her bounty-hunting nickname represented the sounds of these projectile weapons.
Her real name? Erased, alongside her family's lineage. All that remained was that nickname; Thundercrack, or more importantly, her title; Judgement, Third Horsemen Of The Apocalypse.
"Nala won't care if they are or not"
"I know-"
Communication was not her strength, that lay in her body. Yet in this situation, they both misunderstood each other. The Nyx knew both boys needed to grow rapidly in a short period of time, and one was unfortunately lacking behind.
Bez, on the other hand, wished to prepare their minds for the sickening side of a town he himself had given up on.
"-Come"
Positioning herself with bent knees and cupped hands, the pointy eared woman elected to boost the bulky man upwards. Knowing the personal position of the rank one bounty and what sway she may have over his employer, Bez set aside his pride for now.
***
With all the grace Bez could muster, he rose to the perfect height and with a single step, stood on the roof. Luckily, a parked carriage pulled by two saddled Griffons hid his rise.
The head and wings of an eagle, body of a lion, the size of a raging bull. A regal monster, controlled thanks to rigorous training from those with the profession of a 'Tamer'.
Quickly joining the fake butler, Judgement graciously took her 'servants' extended forearm, stepping onto the roof with unexpected elegance. Once on top, the Nyx drew two cards from each of her sleeves.
Two of Hearts, Two of Diamonds, both double barrel Derringers. After latching them to hidden mechanisms under her arm, she gestured to Bez to hand over the music box.
"Don't want me to hold it?"
"No. You'll carry the targets-"
Reluctantly, the man relinquished hold of their Dupe-Box. At his heart, he was a Tank attempting to protect what little he could.
"-Recognise that crest?"
Each door of the carriage bore an engraved silver shield. Illustrations in four quadrants, with another on top. A pickaxe, rock, hammer, gemstone, and finally, sitting at its center, a palace.
"...Fucking hell"
"We believe Nala can still be saved if we play the right hand"
"I wouldn't mind smoking whatever leaves you're on"
As they talked, the Nyx opened a small side panel of their music box to adjust mechanisms inside, flipping a diamond shaped two-tone crystal on its head, then twisting a small knob from the number '33' to '45'.
"If you have any reservations to live without a target on your back, leave while you can"
Running his large hand against his prickly jaw, Bez recalled his reasoning. He felt as if he was a man running on borrowed time. Money from others paid off his debts, yet his reputation was gone, and he still owed another more than his fair share. Albeit a debt of servitude and loyalty.
"Fifty-two hostiles?"
"And one unknown, I suspect they wear a Cursed item. If possible, ignore non-combatants"
Fight fire with water, or fire with fire; that same logic applied to Blessings. Blessings could be canceled out by other active Blessings, or blocked by Curses. Knowledge very few people knew, and less prepared to wield.
Such counteractive power left smoke of its own, yet the origin of its dark fire was shrouded. A black spot in her blessed vision. Thankfully, she was trained not to rely on such power outside of strict circumstances, when its use was necessary.
"And if I can't ignore what I see?"
Judgment's music box began to float on a small dark cloud. A convenient method of carry only available to the ThirdandFirst Horseman.
"Do what you must"
***
The top floor was cramped, filled with all those considered lower on their elite masters food chain. Its only benefit was its brick walls sheltering occupants from the occasional late night rain.
On the left, a well stocked bar filled to the brim with cheap booze, both barrel and glass awaiting thirsty customers. It ran the entire length of what little space the top level could afford.
The right, as seedy as one would expect. Rickety stools, chipped circular tables, suffocating smoke and a dart board lined with knives.
All that was missing was a touch of music to tap their glasses to. That aspect quickly approached, alongside deep grunts of pain from outside.
Folk, pleasantly dressed and not, knew what this meant. Yet at the same time, they found the idea so absurd they hesitated in drawing their blades.
Bursting through twin doors, Bez and Judgement, unconscious henchmen over their shoulders.
"Who the hell-?!"
The intruders tossed those they knocked out, one more respectfully than the other.
**
Bez let the goon slide off his shoulder as an oncoming attack reared its ugly head. A greasy man whose only gentlemanly feature was his half decent suit, thrust forward with a knife straight at the former Captain's heart.
Not a flinch, nor the thought of consequences if he failed. His body moved as he had trained, grabbing his attacker's wrist faster than he could react, forcefully contorting the man by twisting his arm to the left, then behind his back, lest it break.
It was at that point he smashed the man's head into a nearby table.
Its wooden spine broke and its top flipped upwards. Bez caught this new circular protection and used it to quickly stop three flying knives before returning said weapons back in an unorthodox manner.
Said knives, alongside half a table, flew vertically towards a pair of semi-slick men. Bez used it both as a shield and a battering ram. He hit the knife-throwers, splitting the wood in two thanks to the sheer force.
The men crashed into the floor, dazed and confused.
For such a bulky man like Bez to move at speed was a trait only respective of his true rank, a goal he set aside twenty years ago. However, that did not stop him from training his body and continuing to grow, regardless of quantifiable measurements.
A nervous woman with short brown hair wearing an old fashioned long maids dress and small silver shield pinned to her apron threw a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to subdue the tailcoat wearing man.
Unfortunately for her, he caught it, took a quick swig, then cracked it over one of the knife tossers who'd begun staggering to his feet.
The second thrower quickly regained his footing and pulled out a switchblade, only to have his lunge halted. He'd been clocked over the neck with his own bar stool.
Splinters rose at the chair's destructive breakdown, including one leg, which was quickly caught by Bez and thrown like a javelin. It caught the fabric on the maid's puffy shoulder, sticking her firmly to the dart board.
**
As Judgement kicked open the top floor bar's door to enter the room, she took notice of each and every single occupant's position, potential strength, and weight of their soul.
She alone had been recently granted this power. To perceive past ruin, and potential salvation; the true value of one's soul; weighed on Judgement's own scales.
Immediately, she threw the unconscious henchmen over the counter to her left, knocking down one of two bartenders, and quickly slid over the top herself.
Landing with a kick to quickly remove a staff member from the fight, the Nyx drew a card from her right sleeve. Nine of Clubs; a Dirk with a nine inch blade. It was a decorated push dagger; no sharpened edge, save its pointed tip.
A fitting end for the other short haired bartender whose clothes matched the despicable darkness of her weighed soul. There'd be no redeeming this individual, that's how Judgement saw it.
The Bartender aggressively threw various bottles to no avail as each was simply swept aside using as little effort as possible by the Horsemen as if waving off a fly.
In a desperate plea, she attempted to smash a bottle against the counter, only to shatter the neck.
Judgement ended things quickly, sliding her weapon between the ribs, piercing the heart as she looked into her enemies eyes. Only a second was spared to peacefully lay her to rest and shut her eyes.
The Nyx left her weapon behind and slid back over the counter.
She drew two cards while she charged at the last remaining enemy of the top floor, the Nine of Spades; a double action repeating revolver rifle known as the 'Pieper M1893' with a nine shot capacity, and the Three of Clubs; an unfolding Butterfly knife.
The last foe this floor to face was a man of similar build to Bez. If it wasn't for his lack of hair and bloodied leather apron, their shilhottes may have been enough of a match to be considered confusing.
Oddly enough for a man who looked like a butcher, his choice of weapon was a pair of simple knuckle dusters.
Pieper over her shoulder, knife expertly flipped open- the Nyx dodged her opponents quick jabs by ducking, then swept her legs, knocking her foe down backwards. A thrown Ballisong between the eyes ended further struggles.
Truely, his death came too quickly, despite the world being a better place without vile surgical deeds they'd soon uncover.
As they left the room and descended down a flight of stairs, vocals began to echo through the brick environment from the floating Dupe-Box.
"Here"
Bez did not witness Judgement swipe her last enemy's knuckle dusters, nor her the two weapons she left behind revert back to playing cards.
What she left behind was a warning to those that would investigate later.
Two dead, six injured, one subdued.
***
Warning ran downwards through pipes planted in the walls from a wounded bartender above.
"In-truders! Two- argh- coming down! A Nyx! And a- man!"
It was quickly becoming clear to the former Guardsmen that a series of estranged mistakes was either total incompetence, or not mistakes in the slightest. Rather, precise risks that could aid in achieving the Hunters goals.
Bez slipped on the brass knuckles and readied himself as they walked down the staircase.
***
Bursting through a pair of double doors, it came as a shock not to find a club, but a reception room. Several white tiled rooms without doors were positioned on either side of the stairs behind Bez and the bounty hunter.
Behind a large desk sat a neat worker wearing a short dark blue skirt and vest, with a dress shirt underneath wielding a crossbow. Upon the intruder's entry, she fired at Judgement.
Not stopping to dodge, the Nyx caught and redirected the bolt while maintaining its velocity back into the attacker's heart. An attempt unworthy of being called a distraction.
Running onwards, they ignored the tiled rooms and split up. Bez and Judgement each took a door left and right of the main desk, ready for what awaited them next.
***
Poorly lit, two levels incorporated into one, a metal balcony running along the sides, symmetrical stairs leading down, light bounced through crystals sending multicolored rays across the room.
Red velvet booths under archways lined each side, occupied and not. Various forms of exploitative entertainment. Slaves, many races, many preferences, mostly in their youth dressed in attire that did little to protect against violation.
In cages attached to the roof held up by chains, dancers a little old or whose beauty had been blemished. Abuse endured was far easier to hide amongst shadows and bars.
Tonight was a private party, and its hosts were perturbed at the intrusion. Most of those invited to this level were on their payroll, wearing colors aligned with their bosses favorite scheme.
Dark reds, blues and purples. Tailored, patched, no armor in sight. So certain they were that nobody would be so brazen as to attack this horrific place.
The sin of pride reared its head in the most fortunate of circumstances for the uninvited guests.
**
Judgement and Bez knocked down each of their doors with enough force to fling each off their hinges, catching one lanky lackey off guard, over the railing, onto his neck- dead on impact.
One arm on the catwalk's railing, Bez quickly secured his position by dropping down to the fourth open floor. Plenty of foes awaited both on the catwalk, in booths, private rooms, and of course, the main dance floor.
Two men followed, leaping down, only to have their legs caught before landing, and their faces smashed into the ground with a precision dual windmill sweep, performed masterfully by the former Captain's own hands.
***
Sub-level one, the regular entrance for everyday scum.
All things considered, it was one of the few 'clean' spots in the Common's quarter.
Many lined up in an attempt to enter this private club for business and immoral pleasure. Five armed goons checked those in line for weapons and identification.
Their duties would come to a screeching halt at the arrival of a blonde woman whose reputation was well known.
Her name was irrelevant, her badge- not so easily swept aside. Snow-Patrol, unnatural, freakish wild cards operating within their confined code for the better, or worse, of a city on the brink.
"Fuck off, Piss-Patrol. You have no jurisdiction here"
Snarling wildly, a slimy man waved his metal baton towards the approaching danger, who caused their potential clientele to judder nervously.
"Ha! Skinny toothpick speak like little man who suspend me!"
Slowly, she drew a single gigantic scimitar from her hip scabbard, letting the metal spark and sing with its extraction. This frightened the bouncers and attendee's, who slowly backed off.
"Threatenin' me eh? Maybe we'll have a talk to your boss"
Another blade slowly drawn, then her golden scabbards unclipped, floating on their own accord amongst the breeze.
"HEY! You can't come in! This is private property!"
He spat saliva with every overexaggerated order he barked, attempting to chain the tamed monster.
Once in front, the woman in an open beige trench coat cut into the ground, kicking up small rocks with an occasional spark until a line was slowly drawn between her, the smuggling nightclub and their staff.
"Cross line, matter of public"
"Fuck off bitc- blahgh!"
All it took was an inch of his toe to wander over, and a solid gold flying scabbard swept his feet, another hitting him on the head, knocking him face first onto the line. A nasty collision, enough to leave a bruise.
The Relic wielding warrior sat atop her throne of gold, one floating object for her rear, another for back support, both blades sliced into the ground, letting her hands rest upon each pommel. One leg resting on her knee.
"Do not make matter personal"
She shrugged and waved her hand around before resting her head.
"Damn whor-!"
As if the wind itself, the mysterious woman reappeared right in front of the man's face. Light in the vicinity was swallowed up by her presence. Nought but the whites of her eyes and broad grin greeted him mere inches from his face.
A smile that could kill. A deep throaty growl, and what looked like two fangs hidden behind her lips, awaiting his next move.
"Hah-ha…"
His voice trailed off, scuttled away with his courage, and a body slowly following. He faced up against a vicious predator, then backed down before she could bite. In the end, he was nothing but prey.
Staggering out a double door behind the men, another condemned crook grabbed their fellow constituents shoulder.
"There's some guys breakin' in!"
"So what? Can't you see we're busy here. Hahaha"
Near the back, another henchman took the lead while seemingly enjoying the show before his eyes. No loyalty, no family, no honor. Everyone was as replaceable as their peers, less they reigned from above.
"They've already gone through everyone upstairs, they're almost here!"
"Great, spoiling the fun. You in on this, Blondie?"
"Noh. I work alone"
In a split second, she reappeared back on her makeshift seat of Singing Sabers, dismissing their concern with a flick of the wrist.
Popping open her alcoholic drink, she enjoyed her distilled brew to the panicked faces of fiends that rushed inside, slamming the entrance shut.
"Bah! No fun!"
Annoyed that she wouldn't be able to toy with Nala's underbelly scum, the woman tossed her bottle of booze at their door. She then motioned her mitten covered hand, drawing a magic circle with a hidden finger.
"Parting gift"
Slashes of air arranged in a pentagram with horned runes soon burst forth a blue blaze of Hellfire, sealing the door from both sides. An incredibly powerful seal meant to hold back far, far worse.
***
Through a crowd of particularly mean looking men and women, Bez spotted a target moving alongside somebody whose power and influence had little match.
A brunette human woman wearing a bright red cross-strapped circle skirt, and a short bald man without a neck. Or perhaps the overweight Carrigi's loose skin covered up where his neck should have been.
Clearly his bounty posters gave off the wrong impression. This man was little more than three feet tall, a staple of the subterranean Beast-Kin species.
Nevertheless, it was a young boy being pulled along with fear in his eyes that brought Bez to a blood boiling 'Frenzy'. A warrior's skill that thrived on anger, turning bloodlust into power, requiring extensive emotional control.
He stuck each foe that stood in his way with a flurry of fists. Jabs, cross, uppercut, his strength greater than their body weight. Those that foolishly tried to grab on found themselves used as weapons, flung into allies of their own.
Lunging forward with a Flanged Mace, one henchman found his own weapon to be grabbed and stuck into his own forehead by Bez, who simply weaved, then used the weapons own lack of thrusting power as a point of exploitation.
Smatterings of blood and teeth sprayed the red floor.
Another woman swiped horizontally with a short sword.
Bez, being a man with his own set of morals, ducked to an impressive degree under the attack, using the tip of his fingers to stop inches from the ground, then pushed forward, tripping the lady while rising back to his stance.
He ensured his murderous eyes met hers.
Two men attacking in unison only saw this as a sign of weakness; the perfect time to attack. Each armed with metal batons, yet they had grown lazy striking those that would not-could not fight back.
Bez let their batons strike his forearms that he flung outwards, then with a lunge of his own, cupped each of their faces, and allowed his momentum to clobber both of them into the ground.
Twitching, they lay in pools of blood, carpet, and cratered concrete.
Flicking crimson liquid off brass and straightening his suit, the man prepared for another fight.
***
Judgement drew two more cards, another pair. Six's of Hearts and Diamonds, matching 'Colt Single Action Army' revolvers, quickly holstered on her belt, which still had room for six more guns across her waist.
An aggressive girl wearing a buttoned blazer without a shirt underneath, long pants and heels attempted to swing at the Nyx in the brief moment she had no weapon drawn, using daggers of her own.
Standing tall, the Horsemen faced her sideways, her left arm behind her back. With her right arm at fourty-five degree angle, she flicked away her attacker's left arm, ignored a feint from the right, then twisted her arm down to block another attack.
Afterwards, Judgement followed up with a quick chop, extending her arm, hitting the woman's windpipe, causing her to collapse while choking.
Behind her back, she drew another card, the King of Clubs, a spear.
Basic, absolutely, and yet the deadliest form of melee weapon known to mortals.
Using the butt of her newly conjured weapon, the Nyx quickly uppercut a flanking enemy's jaw before spinning the spear around her head, slicing her foe's neck open.
The spear was spun once more, its dripping tip pointed towards thirsty approaching foes. Thrust forward, penetrating cartilage- bursting hearts. Judgement skewered a man, and without pulling out, forced her way through his chest, into another behind.
Three dead in three seconds, their bodies knocked down, allowing the Nyx to vault over and draw another card as she drop-kicked the last enemy on the metal catwalk.
With a sickle, the Seven of Clubs, Judgement hocked under the wretch's ribcage as she rolled over her body. Efficient, devoid of emotion, another heart torn asunder leaving nought but a card, revealed by passing smoke.
Across the room, two targets fled out a pair of double doors heading downwards, a young victim forcibly taken along. Despite Bez's brutality, he still faced many fighters willing to defend their bosses.
Double draw once more, Seven of Diamonds, Seven of Hearts, a pair of revolvers with a rather unique aspect of holding seven rounds in each removable cylinder; the 'Nagant M1895'.
Produced over a decade before the wild west era came to an end. This pair of pistols was quickly holstered around the Horsemen's waist for later use.
Leaping across the room, Judgement landed on a charging foe, drawing the Two of Clubs, nunchucks she'd quickly use to dispatch three more goons.
Spinning the sticks around her arms, allowing its intense moment to transfer force into their skulls. One last man found the weapon wrapped around his neck by the jumping Nyx, who broke his spine as she landed.
***
A long metal raft resembling a small river boat pulled up to the sound of a deep humming and splashing water. Dual wooden paddlewheels near its stern powered by an infantile mechanical engine powered by faded mana crystals.
Its destination? A large brick storehouse boasting its own internal port, barred off behind a thick reinforced door.
Nearby was a large stack of rectangular wooden crates. Perfect for smuggling a decent amount of large weapons, such as Halberds, or other fitting items.
Those not lucky enough to dwell behind stone built themselves homes of scrap and garbage in every nook and cranny, nearly unseen in the darkness.
Poorly constructed boats floated alongside filth, all held behind frayed fishing nets that separated the underbellies route from the oppressed.
Two men guarded its back door; one slender Beast-kin leaning against a wall smoking a cigar, and a pot bellied human sporting a thin brown comb over. He sat atop a frayed cardboard box holding metal shackles that breached its weak confinement.
"We're not expectin' any hand-offs today. Why're you here?"
Tailored suits, autonomous transportation, sunglasses, it became apparent to the young adults manning their vessel what advantage they were in.
Adelard, a blonde warrior of the light wearing his unique black tuxedo spoke up first as he moored the boat around a small metal snub. What made his attire special was hidden beneath the surface, practically begging to be revealed.
"Our Lady can be forceful at times, and often impulsive. We'll be out of your hair in a few minutes"
More monster than man, the pot-bellied man groaned as he stood up, causing another shackle to to fall out of the box below him. With warts and a burn mark across his right chin, he clearly wasn't someone who lived a peaceful- or clean life.
"'Lady' huh? We don't get too many of them. What's her name?"
As he cautiously approached, Adelard took note of his hands rummaging through his cheap patched blazers' pockets to pull out a flip open comb.
"That's none of your business"
Sensing ill intent, Touji stepped between the young blonde and balding man. His well fitted getup matched his friend's formal attire. Although it had far, far more features built into its fabric, nothing about its construction aided offense, only defense and trickery.
All while looking practically identical.
"Ain't ya a bit young to be tryin' to act tough"
"Smell's like they've only been in our city a few hours"
Backing up his belligerent buddy, the Wulf spoke up with his own unique observation.
"We're here to assist our Lady. She wished to sample the goods before it hit the stage. Didn't want to waste her money on product that can't stand on its own feet"
Touji quickly shot back, attempting to be somewhat dignified in his speech, piercing together what occurred in this so-called club.
"Oooh, I get it. These ain't random kids off the street, they've been in this business for a while"
Sleezy was a word that encapsulated the vile overcombed man that wrapped his left arm around Touji, pulling him towards the den of depravity.
"Nala's a nice place, once you know the rules. Let me give you some advice-"
Rummaging through his patched blazer once more, this time, he pulled out a switch-blade.
"-Don't letcha self get grabbed"
Swift was the blade that quickly thrust towards Touji's lower torso, his heart beating, body twisting, yet unable to pull away from the man's firm grip.
"ERGH!"
Touji bent over, clutching the blade that pressed firmly against his stomach.
"It's nothin' personal. And just so you know, we don't send out live packages"
"Ech- Exceptions can be made. Firecrack!"
A snap of his fingers, a millisecond of white lightning, then a bright blast split sleaze and failed spy apart, flinging both in opposite directions.
Adelard quickly waved through the smoke and over to his friend as the Beast-Kin positioned himself near the front of their boat, pulling out a metal rod that clicked three times as it extended into a baton of sorts.
"*Cough*-*Cough* What the hell is this place man?"
Somehow still standing after the explosion, his clothing almost perfectly intact- save the soot. Barely a prick cut through the fabric of their 'Swap-Suits', yet enough to draw blood from both his abdomen and hand.
"Guess these suits aren't just for show"
Unbothered by the smoke, Touji stood back up and rolled his right shoulder which took most of the knockback force, quickly closing the small cuts he'd sustained with magic.
Their clothing was military grade, yes, for special forces too. Infiltration and espionage, built to last through harsh environments, matching high quality light armor.
Of course it was resistant to small arms, blades, and in Adelard's case, came equipped with a special type of material he'd quickly come to notice. The young men would have to face more powerful foes.
Their only advantage was the equipment covering their bodies.
"Hah! Not too shabby kid. So what's the deal?-"
Grunting as he got back to his feet, the assaulting thug pondered the point of the pretentious young visitors.
"-Plan to storm the castle? Not gonna work, not today. Everybody here knows the rules, less they wanna leave like the rest of the… returns"
The potbellied man chuckled as he brushed the dust off his backside, redying himself for a fight.
Strength in numbers, or at least that's what crossed the Beast-kin's mind as he waited for his friend. A game they'd both played for far too long.
"I didn't lie, but you did. Now I really wanna kill both you assholes. Package 'goods' in what's 'expired', then send it along. Fantastic fucking business"
Another disjusting little chuckle was enough to convince Touji that he was right on the money.
"T, what are you saying?"
"People go in, bodies come out in those boxes. Who-knows-what shoved in them. Judging by the shackles, I doubt they kill people right away. Probably let some patrons take home their entertainment"
Touji pointed to what lay around the small private harbor. He knew demoralizing those who placed their faith in the light of gods was an excellent plan of attack when facing them in combat.
However, power of a righteous cause when wielded correctly can overachieve. It was the boost Touji believed Adelard needed.
*Clap*-*Clap*
"You're sharp, kid. We'll make sure your corpse gets a nice tour of The Commons. Who knows? Might even visit the Silver Palace"
As the balding man drew attention by clapping and speaking up once more, congratulating Touji, his fellow scum slowly circled around, trying to trap the boys from both sides, push them away from their boat.
Loudly, a metallic *twang* echo'd in the area as the Beast-kin blocked a ranged attack he did not expect. A transparent throwing knife of fading gold was lodged into the rock beneath his feet.
Strangely, its rough throwing knife-esk shape had seven asymmetrical notches along its edge.
Adelard had made his move. He had heard enough, seen enough, to know what was in front of him must be stopped.
"An illusion? Two can play at that game"
The Wulf was unconvinced he had witnessed an unspoken demonstration of Faith and pressed his free hand onto the ground.
A large purple magic circle encapsulated the surrounding cement beneath everyone's feet. Twisting, turning, large runes gave rise to silhouettes of smoke matching the men, darkening the area further and significantly obscuring the boy's vision.
"It's kill or be killed"
Touji backed up to his friend and quickly whispered in his ear, getting ready to pull out his Relic from the connected spacial magic hidden in his fake tuxedo's inner breast pocket.
"No, I got a feeling we won't need weapons"
Adelard's complete confidence and similarity to his sister's views quickly led Touji to stay his hand; to fight without his Relic.
"Fine, but don't expect them to spare us the same courtesy"
"Yes they do seem to be tricky and rather lacking in manners. Perhaps spending some time at Still Lake Watch will teach them proper etiquette? I heard it's nice this time of year"
Adelard's humor helped alleviate the rising tension, given their predicament. With a heavy sigh, Touji accepted his path would not always be easy. For the sake of his friend, he'd fight without his Relic.
"Righteous path it is"
"Wouldn't be much of a Paladin if I walked anything else"
"As you wish Sir Knight. Shall we?"
A nervous grin crept over Adelard's face.
"Of course"
**
Touji took off, charging straight into the thick layers of smoke warriors. Orange rays of a charging spell glowed brighter by the second creating long shadows that thinned as he approached at speed.
"Not trying that hard to hide, are you!?"
Leaping, he lounged at his enemy, who released his powerful spell, shouting its name.
"Inaricis!"
A great well of flame like a bellowing burning teardrop, bigger than any man, spewed forth from a snub nosed wand; its tip encased in metal, its grip curved for accuracy.
Touji took the blow by raising his left arm and casting Greyward to protect his body in a skin of smoke that evaporated most of the spell before it could sear his flesh.
Had the young man not spent his earlier days next to a forge, or his blood not harken back to draconic origins, he'd be writhing in pain. Yet thankfully, innate resistance made up for his late action.
The young man landed and ducked under a Fireball that skittered off into the dark; a bread and butter attack spell with a self serving name.
Following up, Touji attempted to perform a leg sweep to no success, as the pot-bellied man leapt back, casting a sequence of rapid burning attacks.
Unable to get closer while a brash blaze flailed about, Touji leapt to the side, creating distance between himself and the enemy. Landing with a roll, he sprinted while dodging oncoming fireballs then turned his foes strategy against them.
Hidden amongst the smoke figures, the boy casted a set of noise making spells that mimicked the sound of running.
Arms crossed, hands closed, his index and middle fingers copied the motion of sprinting on a small scale. Each tip hitting a small purple translucent magic circle, creating sound.
Enda spent many hours teaching the young man several defensive spells she'd hoped Touji would find use of. All of which, save Greyward, had built in defects she hoped he'd overcome.
The decoys of himself could not move, fake footsteps that left behind a faded blue imprint, voices projected but their origin could not be silenced.
Unfortunately Touji had yet to grasp any other spells Enda attempted to teach him, each targeting different senses.
"Come on out kid, I ain't gonna kill ya!"
"Has anyone ever believed that?"
A hand over his mouth, a light purple magic circle hidden in his palm, Touji's eyes aimed exactly where he wanted his voice to be projected.
"Ha! You'd be surprised how stupid some people are!"
"Oh, I'm aware"
Following his voice, the sleazy man snuck up on the silhouette of what appeared to be a kneeling man. Through a small gap in the smoke, he confirmed its black suit and thrust forward with his knife.
Nothing, save a sense of emptiness and emotions of anger swelling from a man who'd been tricked. He quickly turned around, anticipating an attack from his blind spot, only to spin once more as fake footsteps drove him away.
**
Adelard moved slowly through the smoke as his friend charged off to face his foe. His arms positioned on either side of his head for protection. He knew he was at a disadvantage, especially against someone with a weapon, yet he soldiered on.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, a smirk on his face. When faced with adversity, it was all he could do. Throughout his odd life, it had become normal to him. Whenever he faced fear, doubt, hatred, he wore a smile.
Not because he was happy, but because he didn't want others to see him as cowardly. And "Cowards don't smile".
He bottled up his failures in desperation to be accepted by others, yet in the one place he tried hardest, he could never receive a smile in return. Not after their home was destroyed, their lives uprooted, their family torn apart.
Here, in the city he wished to avoid, thoughts of his true father crept in amongst the mist. His mannerisms and teachings influenced Adelard despite putting through what the young man felt was betrayal.
*Thwack*
Searing pain struck against his back. Blunt force, enhanced by enchanted electrical damage. Sparks flew, slightly scratching his tailcoat fabric.
"ARGH! That all you got?!"
He twisted around only to catch fading fangs disappearing behind a swathe of smoke.
"Nnyak!"
Adelard was struck once more behind his knee. Unbeknownst to him, a ripple of gold echoed from his clothes from where he had been hit.
"Every once in a while we get a kid like you"
"Yeah?! Every once in a while I get to fight a coward that hides behind magic!"
Wobbling, pain shooting through his leg, he stood up once more, replying to the voice swiftly moving behind the scenes. He could feel the rise of an ill aura from the man who aimed to kill.
"AarGH! AhH!"
Adelard screamed out in pain as his left arm was almost knocked out of its socket and dislocated by immense strength as an overhead strike barely missed his head, skimming his shoulder.
Had it made contact with his skull, the Paladin was almost certain he'd have died.
"Bolewh!"
The Beast-Kin stuck twice more straight into Adelard's stomach, forcing him to heave over, gasping for air. Then another swing, an uppercut to his chin.
It was a miracle he didn't lose any teeth as he was violently flung onto the ground to the sound of a hollow thud. His sunglasses fell, clattering in the unseen behind him.
"Surrendor or die, last chance"
The young blonde man rolled over, coughing, and greeted the Beast-Kin with a grin. Towered above, he looked down without remorse. Nothing but his next kill.
"FAfhf!"
Adelard attempted to create a golden throwing knife with his left arm, only to be thwarted aside by the Wulf's baton. Against the cold stone ground, the Paladin's conjured weapons looked eerily familiar to fallen feathers of transparent gold.
"Die with what little tricks you have"
He raised his weapon behind his head and swung down- or at least, he tried. Sparks flew upon contact with flesh. An iron grip held firm to the tip of the mace. More magical runes span into gear to no effect.
Well, nothing except empowering the young man who held it firm to its tip even stronger.
"Oi"
Touji twisted the mace horizontally, disarming the Beast-Kin while kicking him in the back, sending him stumbling away into the smoke. Soon after, the hostile foe scuttled away towards his accomplice.
**
"Ah- ha- Think I'm out of my league man-"
Adelard took Touji's arm and got back on his feet. Muffled angry voices scolded each other as the boys recovered.
"-I feel useless without armor"
"You're already wearing armor. Remember when we fought a whole bunch of undead?"
"Yeah?"
Touji collapsed the extended mace and quietly pushed it through his pocket that connected his suit to a closet back in Dragon's Mort.
"Trust me. Follow my lead"
"...They're not- Poltroon!"
Both boys ducked under a crescent wave of fire, then jumped over a wave of lightning that splashed across the ground.
"Consecrate the ground!"
"But- they're-?!"
"Do it!"
"Right!"
Touji immediately shut down Adelard's protest as he positioned himself in the direct line of several approaching Fireballs as he strived to attack the Beast-Kin.
Adelard raised his right arm upwards, letting light fill his open hand. A gentle, soft melody of a pure voice humming a tone growing ever louder.
Following his fist, a perfectly horizontal ripple of gold followed the Paladin's fist, dusting all beneath. Smoke, haze, fire, replaced by the lone tranquil stone floor. Golden rays of warms rising from beneath, through cracks and crevasses.
Consecrate; To declare the land beneath the caller as sacred. Protected by Gods and Spirits alike, and thus, be an objectification on one's divine prowess. This Hymn drives away the corrupted and strikes the sacrilegious in a twenty meter circular zone around the crier.
With the table now surprisingly cleared of obstruction; illusion, the young men charged at their surprisingly close enemy.
"Smite in front of them!"
"On it!"
No protest was given this time, not after the odd knowledge was presented to Adelard. This wasn't the first time he'd forgotten his friend grew up in an orphanage surrounded by Sisters whose faith rang true.
Touji positioned himself in the direct line of several approaching Fireballs as he strived to attack the Wulf.
A set of three fiery attacks. The first two nullified by Greyward projected around himself, the third, caught in a Vortex.
Growing rapidly up until it reached a diameter of a single meter, Smite created an orb of glowing golden plasma. Harmless to most, save what illumination it gave out in droves, yet with fire flung into its belly, this small spectacle quickly became a miniature sun.
Touji's shadow protected Adelard's eyes from the iris incinerating light for the brief moment he held onto his spell. Their foes, not so lucky.
Sunglasses, amongst other properties, waved away retina damage the quarter dragon may have received as he jump-kicked the Beast-Kin, knocking both of them over.
From around corners, damp cracks and forgotten crevasses, weary eyes began to look towards the disturbance. Locals, and of course, the strange Snow Patrol woman who kept her presence hidden.
"Urgh! Freak!"
"Time to talk-! Time to fight!"
The Wulf rebounded off the floor as fast as Touji cast Airburst to fling himself up to perform an instant right hook, hitting the Beast-Kin's face, who returned a strike of his own into the young man's side.
Today Touji found out for certain that attacks not deadly, yet still painful, would be his weak point. Strong enough to do serious damage, not harsh enough to force his heart to pump insurmountable adrenaline through his veins.
Both fighters began exchanging increasingly bloodied fists while Adelard taunted his opponent.
**
"Hey, Balding! Catch!"
Held back by his own honor, the young Paladin waited for his opponent's vision to be restored before throwing his conjured knives, muttering "Glass bottles, eh?" under his breath.
Flicking away the translucent feather-like knives with his switchblade, the sleazy man shook his head and threw out a couple Fireballs in retaliation.
"Could've had it end quickly, now I'm gonna burn you to a crisp!"
Adelard barely managed to swipe through the first couple of spells flung his way using his conjured knives but quickly realized how out of his depth he was as the third burned his left hand.
"Fugfh!"
"Too late for regrets, now you burn like the rest of them"
The young quickly took in his surroundings. To his left, Touji and the Wulf bloodied each other's knuckles, so he evaded by running to the right while focusing on healing his wound.
"Ahalu!"
Two fireballs flung at chest height, then, a rapid wave of fire splashing across the ground.
He could not block it, so Adelard ducked under the Fireballs, only for his legs to be licked by searing flame that turned his socks to ash and ankles into crisp blisters.
"ARGH!"
The boy took a tumble for the worse as he shouted out in pain. Had the wave of fire lingered and not quickly dissipated, he was sure he'd have been burned alive.
Cooked flesh filled his nostrils while he grabbed onto his feet, pleading with his own power to save what he could- but no light came.
Through his watery eyes, he saw the legs of a sadistic man slowly walk up to him. A glowing orange circle of a primed spell pointed directly at his head from the metal tip of a snub-nosed wand.
"Get up! You have to fight! Please!"
A teenage boy pleaded for Adelard's defiance. He clacked around the corner clutching his single broken crutch that had been mended many times. Bandages covered his body, and he wore scraps that could hardly be considered clothing on his head, legs and torso.
Half his face, his right eye and mouth, burned, then sadistically cooled into hardened crackling.
"You have too…"
"Sometimes ya gotta snuff the loudmouths first"
Casually, the man pointed his wand towards the interrupting teenager, unbeknownst to Adelard's increasingly aggravated expression.
"Inaricis!"
***
"Hell of a move you pulled- heaven of a move? Nah, not as catchy"
Two individuals sat a meter apart on a warm Scorch day on a ledge far about Dragon's Mort, inside the landing pad of the skull's colossal eye socket.
A gentle breeze caused the white-hair Kitsune's long pony tail to flutter in the wind as she scribbled in a small leather-bound book.
She wore her regular hardening robes over an advanced black suit of tight O-yoroi inspired armor, of course without any pieces that would increase drag or lie above her monk-like robes.
Her words addressed Adelard, who dangled his legs over the metal plate platform and stared at the safety net below. He himself wore a casual dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and brown tights.
Adelard turned to her, showing his signature smile and cheery emerald eyes.
"Heavenly, if I do say so myself"
"Alright fancy pants, I'll concede that move was something… Almost rivals my drifting- almost. Can't help but wonder who taught you how to do it"
"Taught me?"
The young man stared off into the distance, following the rolling green hills to the left, a busy boat filled river to his right, then over encroaching mountains, of which several the river tunneled through, and looked towards the Holy Kingdom or Boree.
"My dad used to tell me stories about Paladins, Priests, Prophets- unstoppable Trinities, the Crusade. He even had me recite holy texts before bed"
"That bum taught you something useful!?"
Arisu paused her scribbling in disbelief to stare at the blonde boy through twitching eyes.
"No, he's- My real dad is in Nala. He was blamed for what happened, and he accepted… their judgment"
He stared back down at his feet as they awkwardly dangled in the wind over buildings far below.
His gaze shifted towards one particular two story house in the Craftsmen's district, with its cracked brown tiled roof. It sat off in a crescent surrounded by many occupied homes, each townhouse well maintained with metal balconies and arched doorways.
"Oh- Well… Ohhhh… huh"
The Kitsune quickly tore out a page from her little book of interesting people she'd met along her journey. Using her sharp index claw, she tore it to shreds in less than half a second and quickly stuffed the scraps behind her Tekko; the square hand guard that acted like gauntlets without gloves.
"I still don't understand why he did it… any of it"
"Here, take this"
"?"
Finished writing her new masterpiece, Arisu handed Adelard the small leatherbound book full of information.
Before he could even tilt his head as he flicked through the pages, the Kitsune spoke up yet again.
"Perspective is a funny thing. Everybody in this has a view that'll give you a piece of wisdom that'll help you find your answer. I doubt it'll take long"
"And I supposed I'll just stumble across the answer? How quaint"
Arisu smirked, her intuition tingling once more. She was familiar with the type of man Adelard could become. In her past life, those types of people angered her the most. But here, there was value to that line of thinking.
That's why her book was filled with people who each had differing, unique perspectives on life's greatest questions. She was certain if the teenager met at least seven of those people in earnest, he'd come to the revelation he was looking for.
It's why she knew;
"No. Well, maybe? Eh, either way, you'll get your answer when it happens again"
"Again?"
***
The enormous plume of fire created through the spell Inaricis splashed against an obstacle between sleazebag and boy.
White wings of purity burst aflame. Feathers fell all around. The stone floor ripped up at Adelard's sudden presence. He gripped his blazer and held it up like a fabric shield with his left arm.
"Am I not- entertaining enough- for you my dear?"
He still felt pain gnaw away at his ankles. But he got his answer.
"The hell!? Blazenfirth!"
A twirling tornado of flame belched forth from the scumbags wand whose metal tip was glowing dangerously bright orange. Adelard refused to dodge, his goal was clear; Stop the attack for reaching the bystanders.
"WHY WON'T YOU BURN!?"
It was a stream of constant fire, begging to blister any exposed skin and to break morale. Such a spell illuminated the darkness, revealing more frightened, faithless bystanders.
"Heh"
"!"
A laugh, a chuckle. Why did it silence the roaring flames? No, they still roared furiously, and yet, the sounds that should have echoed throughout the stone environment bowed before the boy with an eclipse in each eye.
Through fabric, through fire, two unstable yellow halos shone through all else, however, it did not blind the man whose gaze it fell under.
Adelard had tilted his head, and he held his suit jacket high, only a couple millimeters of heavily enchanted fabric flapping from the fire protected his face.
Shimmering, like a disturbance of a still lake. Those ripples of gold gave way to hope, and revelation.
"It was never about me"
He took a step forward, fighting the force desperately trying to push him back. The ground cracked as he slammed his foot down. Not out of pressure, of destructive force, but respect.
"Argh! Die you little shit! Ahalu!"
Both boy and man felt sweat drip down their face, one of an unraveling mental, the other extruded effort.
"It was about them"
The young Paladin took another step forward, deliberately into the wave of fire. His foot crashed into the spell, stomping out its advance with golden splendor.
"What the hell are-!"
It bounced with a twang, off the stone floor, then slid straight into the tip of his wand's metal tip as if it was butter. Adelard's thrown knife now resembled a golden feather of legend, not to be confused with other precious treasures.
This was a weapon founded on the fact the Paladin needed to save an innocent life. United belief manifested destiny.
"Hell plays not part in this Epic"
"Cocky punk! Inaric-!"
As the sleazy man attempted to cast once more, the mana flowed through the instrument of his will, split in two, then erupted in a violent fireball.
"ArGH! SHIT!"
Knocked down due to his own actions with his left arm smoking, burned away alongside half of his patchwork suits arm, he desperately tried to back away from the boy who seemed suddenly frightening.
Through the smoke of a spell's misfire, his eclipse eyes stood firm. Grunts faded into whimpers. Adelard's footsteps rang in the man's ears, sweat dripping down the sides of his face.
Words repeated in his mind; 'How was he so strong?', 'Why doesn't he bleed?', 'Why won't you give up'. Stammering, he insulted the boy struggling to picking the man up by his lapels.
"Y-you're a Devil"
"No… I'm an Angel"
Adelard's smile and glowing eyes would be seared into his brain before his lights went out. Shouting, the young man headbutt the sleazy bastard with all the force he could muster. A final blow to end the fight.
Letting go, his target limp, he turned to face the boy he rushed to save, closing his eyes, giving a friendly grin, a nervous laugh.
"Th-thank you!"
He was okay, that was all he had to hear. Relief, then exhaustion; he nearly collapsed then and there. Concern kept him somewhat upright.
"That's what- Paladins do"
**
In this battle of attrition, both Touji and the Wulf quickly stopped attempting to dodge every blow, focusing instead on offense.
They traded strikes until the Wulf pulled a fast, tipple strike combo Technique. Open electrical palms, left then right, straight into Touji's shoulder, followed by a quick uppercut to his chin.
His sunglasses knocked askew. The young man could absorb the magic, but not nullify what damage was caused by the direct contact.
Touji struck back with fury, only to hesitate for a tenth of a second. The Wulf shuddered when their eyes met. The hair on his arms stood tall as fight or flight kicked in. The Beast-Kin eyes avoided direct contact.
As such, he took a blow across the jaw.
"Inhuman freak"
"Would you- believe my- mother was a- ah- Highdrake?"
Between his heavy breathing, the young man attempted to use an excuse mentioned in passing whilst keeping his guard up.
Drips of sweat rolled down his arms, his chin.
"THEIR EYES DON'T MAKE ME-"
Rapid, rabid, the Wulf extended his claws an inch and swiped, scratched all they could. Each sharp fingernail pushed forward with the aid of the electrical element.
"-WANT TO CRAWL IN A HOLE AND DIE!"
Touji weaved, tilting backwards to narrowly avoid a scratch from the right, then pushed forward, blocking the strike from the left, forearm on forearm creating an upright cross, then with his free right arm, uppercut the Wulf in the gut.
"ARGHL!"
Half growl, half grunt, with an animalistic roar the Wulf grabbed Touji by the neck, pulled his foot forward with his own and pushed him to the ground as a long stream of fire lit up the damp stone around them.
In trying to grab the Wulf's hands first as they sparked, Touji made a mistake.
The Beast-Kin was no fool, he quickly repositioned his knees atop his hands.
Bloodshot animal irises stared deep into the boy's blue draconic eyes, watching with intensity while Touji smiled, then he chuckled. A grin so wicked it made the man sick, seeing four sharp fangs in the boy's mouth.
'Why is he smiling?' ran through the Wulf's head, again and again.
Touji could not cast Firecrack at his target, his hands pressed down only pointed at each other, or the gaps between. The Beast-Kin knew only to not let someone who practiced magic without a wand point fingers or palms towards him.
That precaution included bracing for any desperate movement spells. Either direction he would not be moved by Firecrack, as such;
"Wanna- try something- new?!"
"DIE!"
Saliva flung from the Wulf's mouth in confused desperation while begging for his foe's death. He throttled the young boy, and yet he didn't care, as if he could still breath through a closed windpipe pressed shut, aided by a current clasping his hands tighter.
*Thump*
The timing had to be perfect at such a range. Two flicks, each hand, a move done once before, followed by another. Double Firecrack into a conjoined Vortex.
A ball of sparking storm in his hands. Touji grit his teeth, struggling to hold what swirled between his hands, because like a foolish young idiot, he continued to poor in his mana, speeding up the swirl, letting it grow.
There were no last words from the Wulf, only a growl, then a welp.
Unleashed, the concussive force to throw a body more than twice over launched the Wulf into the stone ceiling above, cracking it. So too did the ground beneath Touji, alongside a rib.
Blood spurted from the young man's mouth as he struggled to lift a single arm, raising an open palm at the unconscious Wulf falling down.
Vortex quickly transitioned into Airburst, cushioning the Wulf's fall, blasting him sideways. He landed with a limp role.
"Haaa… Fuck…"
Breathing through his mouth again, pain through every part of his body. Touji realigned his sunglasses, then brushed his fingers over his neck.
Gills, small thin lines converting energy to oxygen, brought on by the Wulfs' unnecessary cruelty.
Tales told of Dragons as the ultimate lifeform. They did not only live above ground in safe spaces like regular mortals, but oceans, lakes, lava, areas without time, and certain legends told of an albino Elder Dragon who conquered space itself, using his wings to soar from star to star.
***
Bez and Judgement exited out the bottom entrance of the club as Adelard and Touji clamping shackles on the sleazy, pot-bellied man.
They slowly got back up and moved with hands over each other's shoulders, Adelard healing Touji's rib as best he could.
Bez carried three restrained targets. A short man without a neck, a brunette wearing a stunning red dress, and a slightly overweight aging man. Each bound with thumb cuffs, rope and gagged with cloth.
A small brown haired boy held onto the broad man's left hand while he cradled a young grey haired girl on death's doorstep. She was sedated. Small circular puncture wounds still visible alongside vertical scars on her legs and arms.
Neither child older than twelve. Both given only a burlap sack as clothing. Battered and bruised, eyes devoid of hope.
Judgement carried a sickly pale Wis over her shoulders, the last of his hair desperately attempted to cover a lack of follicle growth. In each of the Horsemen's holsters, guns, including several that sat tucked into her waist or hung by their own straps.
As they left, the Snow-Patrol woman walked up to gather a greater understanding of the situation.
"Bazyl, please ensure all the other victims leave unimpeded"
"I see… Fine. Take bounty to Chargework"
Bazyl eyed over the poorly clothed preadolescents Bez shielded. The red marks on his wrists and ankles now free, yet clinging to the blood covered man like a saviour.
Her accent was thick, yet hardly butch, and in most cases, broken, as was her name. It was a manner of speech that most paid little attention to- interpreting it as a matter of intelligence, rather than origin.
After nodding in agreement, Judgement looked towards the two boys that had survived another fight. Each had grown slightly, yet each faced different roadblocks.
"Do they have Guild name?"
The Snow-Patrol woman waved her covered hands at the young men, having been thoroughly entertained by their fight.
"Feel free"
"That one, Goldie, other one, Huda- Hurry- cain. Can not say right"
Bazyl's flicking tongue was her greatest enemy when it came to communication. She knew the word, but her thick accent made it difficult. In other cases she'd find a fitting synonym, but this- it fit Touji like a glove.
"Huricane?"
"Da. Wild, destructive, like storm. Suck at hand-to-hand but know basic of fight. Goldie dumb, brave. Heart in right place. He need steady combat brain, believe in himself more; not action or other people"
"I'm afraid to ask where that accent is from"
Bez interrupted their casual talk, unaware of why Judgement was playing for time, yet he played along. A hidden bluff that would soon be answered.
"I come from Dubasari, but no one here know place. They never heard of Moldova. I tink… somewhere in mountain? Where you from?"
As Touji and Adelard slowly made their way over to the Wulf, the sickly Sylph on Judgement's shoulder barked out an order the moment he saw a twitch in his long furry ear.
"S-L C-S, Zero! Run you fool!"
Cryptic message quickly received, the Wulf stumbled to his feet, took everything in, then ran as fast as he could. Tripping on his first step, he yelped in pain, but continued to run, holding his right leg.
"Shit"
Thinking quickly, Touji raised his arm to cast a spell only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. He was unable to snap his fingers, and almost fainted.
"Firahh, why now…"
Touji was out of mana.
Their enemy leapt over the small gap of water leading into the club's barred storage and fled around the corner. Too fast on his feet for either of them to stop.
"Enjoy it, you'll all be dead before midnight"
Satisfied, the Nyx started walking towards the boat.
"We're leaving"
"Shouldn't we stop him!?"
Touji remained confused, contesting Judgement's call.
Adelard, on the other hand, prioritised the wounded children, letting his friend go to check on the kids with Bez.
"No. Nala must be free of their blight"
"Blight?! My Guild has lasted hundreds of years! No bounty hunter-"
Judgement untied the jabot around her neck and used it to gag the captive bound over her shoulder.
"Heads, the Assassin's Guild survives to slit another throat, tails… a storm rolls through"
The Nyx flicked a black coin through the air with an audible twang over to the kid leaning on a crutch. Catching it, he held it up to dim light giving off by a wall torch.
Its head was a horse's skull split into four quadrants;
Left uppermost skullcap made of primarily holly, outlined with opal and diamond for an eye. The left jaw was made with ruby and had emerald teeth, outlined by sapphire. The right upper skull was made of ebony, gold outline, and the odd choice of white opal as its eye. Bottom right jaw was bone with a pale green tinge, its outline was simple black, blending in with the coin itself, corroding and cracking the illustration.
Tails had a rather interesting and deliberate design. Nine white soft petals arranged in an overlapping circle. To each three petals, one garnet fluffy tail twisting in an opposing direction.
It'd come as no surprise which side the boy caught the coin.
"The Priest you may know as Peter will exchange that coin"
Adelard slowly healed what damage he could, detoxifying both children while reducing their bruising. This surprised Bez, who raised an eyebrow at his effectiveness.
Feeling the gaze of a seasoned warrior, Adelard replied without jest, dismissing further conversation.
"I know- how to heal this kind of wound"
The young Paladin gritted his teeth and looked away from Bez, somewhat ashamed at what he indirectly revealed. His quick response slipped out before he could hide behind a charismatic mask.
Bruisings, beatings, muscle aches from direct flesh on flesh contact, drug abuse. He treated the most serious damage to both children before they all walked over and boarded their boat.
Both young men hobbled along, nearly falling over once on the boat.
Their music box silently floating on smoke returned to Judgement's slender hands after she laid her captive down and threw a black sack over his head.
"Woah- Hey, what about that other bad guy we took out?"
"They'll decide what justice truly means to them"
Responding to Adelard, Judgement spoke softly as she sat down her fidgeting prisoner at the boats' bow.
"The longer we wait, the greater chance we draw Assassin's here. T, drive us away and be on your guard"
Touji reached into his tuxedo jacket to pull out his relic. Bez's advice when it came to danger was always worth heading to him.
If he came across any Assassin's Guild members, they'd all surely be far stronger than him, and he was in no position to fight. There would be no room for error.
In a way, he was heading into far greater danger than what he faced in Tyrants Rest.
"Here"
The Nyx handed both young men potions pulled out from her suitcase. They swirled with vibrant red, green and blue. Encased in protective steel, reinforced wired glass. Functional, and incredibly expensive.
"A Tri-Pot?"
"Yes, drink"
"Ahk! Couldn't make it taste any better?"
"DRINK"
Judgment's demand shocked the young men. After a few seconds, they nodded at each other, and chugged down the disgusting potion. To them, it tasted like soap wrapped in toothpaste, and a tad too thick.
Adelard almost hurled, only to be stopped by the Nyx who put a hand over his mouth.
It's effect wasn't immediate, yet they both felt it, a tingling sensation across their bodies causing them to involuntarily shake it off. Their muscles heated up and their senses heightened.
"It'll last an hour, don't overdo it"
Neither could believe how they felt, each taking a deep breath, checking their bodies and flexing their limbs.
***
Slowly, the denizens of the dysfunctional underground gathered around the pot-bellied man who'd been shackled. Each knew of the duo's tactics, many tasted their pain first hand.
They believed, more now than ever, that it was the boy who had received a stranger's coin, who'd been hurt the most, be given a rusted, makeshift blade.
"Urrh…"
It was then he came too, his worst nightmare. Those he once held power over gathered around to form a dark cage. Faceless, hooded, hiding, saving the one with all the reason in the world to slowly slit his through.
As they got closer, he squirmed, desperately trying to squeeze out of his confinements.
"Stay the hell away from me! I'll burn ya! Ratty bastards!"
He could hear the clack of the single crutch approaching and began hyperventilating.
A torch was lit up by one of the mob, and brought down to the man's sweaty face. They could see his fear, from the diluted eyes, his dirty face, every drop of anxiety.
"Ah! ARH! GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Standing above, his hand shaking as it clutched the knife, others helped him down to kneel. On the ground, he opened his hand, the choices in his palm, then held it tight and exhaled.
***
The Nyx guided Touji while he slowly sailed the mana-powered boat around several corners and into a false brick building. A simple illusion painting a non-existent wall was all that hid such a convenient lift.
Once inside, a metal sheet slid into the water behind them. Pulling on a nearby rope led water to gush out rusty pipes. They rose, inch by inch.
"Bez, Adelard"
Judgment handed both suited men black lanterns, items she kept in her suitcase.
"Take those kids to Naji, tell her to make haste for Dragons Mort. Keep them alive"
"Will we have enough time?"
"You will be assisted"
"...Fine, but these kids are in pretty bad shape. Transporting them right now isn't a good idea"
"They'll be hunted while they remain in Nala. Others outside of the Assassin's guild will want them silenced"
Judgement knew exactly what the underbelly of this megalopolis was capable of.
"Then we have no choice"
Unhappy as he was, Bez ultimately agreed to see them to safety.
A metal shutter door rattled as chains turned, revealing their exit. They took it in silence, as if awaiting a possible attack.
Once more, Judgement used hand signals from the bow of their boat, directing Touji to take a right, leading down a damp road.
Shanty houses erected in front of the occasional sub-level homes. Most buildings simply spared no door, shutting out those without adequate income.
Ironically enough, it was here a sense of community could be felt, for all but a brief moment, as they passed several groups wearing ragged clothes around dull fires.
Laughter quickly turned to silence as children found themselves pulled back from the canal's edge thanks to the passing boat. Harsh hushes silenced any pushback by the poverty stricken adolescent youth.
***
Another turn, and a broadening sense of familiarity washed over the young men. This canal was wider than the rest, as it lay beneath a main passage they'd recently attempted to jump across.
Feeling it was appropriate, Bez took off his slightly blood stained tailcoat and wrapped it around the unconscious girl, then gave his vest to the young boy whose pupils remained dilated, his attention elsewhere.
"Go on foot from here, keep to this level. Light the lamps. The Motte will handle the hostages. Tell her, we're after information on the slave trade"
"As you wish. Stay safe kid. Don't do anything I wouldn't"
"Who even are they?"
As Bez threw the woman in red and masked doctor over his shoulders once more, practically wearing their captives as shoulderpads. Judgment gave him a look that screamed he found himself in a hole, and digging wouldn't be wise.
"Trust me, there are some things best kept in the dark"
"..."
Touji let out a concerned groan and ran his hand through his hair.
"Shouldn't I go with them?"
He greatly preferred the company of his friend and old mentor over a woman he indirectly wronged, despite efforts made to rectify the situation.
"No"
Judgement said only what was necessary. There was deeper meaning, rules related to the Horsemen, a request from her leader, however, she wished to have a more personal chat and set the record straight.
That did not stop a frown from creasing Touji's forehead. A stare of disappointment from behind the mana-crystal engine.
It was that very reason the Nyx recalled words spoken by her lover, that she needed to grant those unconvinced a greater reason.
"We need to talk"
Her displeased tone made it clear to Touji to hold his horses, so to speak. And as such, he turned away in anguish, scanning the depressing environment.
Bez and Adelard turned the nobs at the base of their metal lanterns. Using magic out of the tip of his fingers, the former Guardsmen lit each.
Accepting the young girl with care, Bez cradled her once more to ensure her safety, while Adelard let the young boy hold on to his coat, wrapping his arm around him in turn.
"Are the lamps doing anything?"
"You see them because you're looking for them"
"...'Justice is blind'"
"As long as nobody seeks them, they will be safe. It's the best we can do. Go"
Judgement and Justice, partners intertwined with godly power, borrowing each other's boons to achieve their goals. In belief's, in sayings, in observation, great strength could be drawn when used correctly.
Under his breath, Touji whispered words in understanding, a hand over his mouth. He'd come to a revelation.
"Fog of War… Death's veil…"
The more he thought about it, the more he realized it had been written on the wall all this time. Yet he never thought about it, only accepted their nature, but still something was missing.
As the group drifted apart in silence, Touji contemplated his mentor's role, her abilities, and what that meant for him.
***
Slowly, they crept through the sub level, avoiding parked boats and other obstacles. Gentle splashing sounded on the sides of their vessel thanks to its paddle wheels powered by entombed mana.
As Judgement knelt over the bow of their boat, Assassin's Guild leader by her steel stilettos, she spoke the words Touji least expected to hear.
"Thank you"
It was those words that caused him to tense up, shocked that the Nyx was capable of kindness. But, sooner or later, reality would come crashing down. Doubt encroaching on their true plans.
There would be repercussions for what they'd done.
"...I didn't think we'd be hitting a smuggling operation"
"It was a gamble"
"What if they move stuff around, change the auction? Because of what we did?"
"Hold tight to that train of though"
Judgement took a strange weathered goldish coin out of her pocket and flicked it back to Touji who caught it and examined its faces.
On one side, a fierce dragon with its wings at the ready, a twisting tail, and raised claw. Below the image, it stated 'One Pound. Many small lumps brought a bit of texture around the rim.
Its other side had a side portrait of a woman with a crown, pearl necklace and earring. 'Elizabeth II' and 'D-G-REG-F-D-1995'.
The closer he looked, it appeared the woman turned her face slightly and winked.
"This-"
Surprisingly, the Nyx turned around and opened her suitcase to pull out a perfectly aged blueprint. And attached were several documents, torn journal pages, with nearly all its words erased.
Almost as if someone had rubbed out three fourths of everything written.
The blueprint itself was a plan for a single shot rifle and all its components. Titled 'GENISIS - Tak-', the second name had been severely smudged, nye unreadable past half its length.
In the top left, a small drawing of a dragon matching what he held served as a signature of sorts.
What was most interesting about the drawn weapon design was its incorporation of a Longswords' grip into the wooden handguard below the barrel.
Touji looked at his Relic, then lined up the picture to what he held. Of course, they too were a perfect match.
"Genisis… that's what he called it. Tak… Tak what? Taksu?"
"My family has assumed the role of Third for generations. Each of us has had a unique obsession with that other world. I believe that Hero called Japan his home… like she does"
Oddly enough, a subtle grin crept across Judgement's lips as she recalled her family's service to a cause Touji had yet to fully grasp. Although he could tell it was important information thanks to the Nyx spending more than a few words on the subject.
Possession of such notes meant the forgotten hero could not only recreate firearms, but personally knew the family of generations past who held on to the mantle of Horsemen. Success with those weapons was still to be determined.
However, that too appeared to match a hazy memory Merlin recalled hours prior.
A sinking feeling hit Touji's gut due to his hometown's history of black powder and the sheer brutal destruction it brought.
He couldn't help but wonder if this 'Hero's' Relic led to another in recreating weapons which led to a generation of the continent's greatest craftsmen perishing in a single spark.
"In the stories, he used a giant Katana to cut through the Destroyer's head. I don't know if he mimicked Unforged- But when I spoke to Merlin before, I think he said part of his name too… Tak-something"
"Takuya"
A small, yet noticeable chime rang out, causing an unnatural ripple to cross the water's surface as they sailed along.
Judgement, whose authority over those that walked Father Earth, recited the man's name who'd been stricken from history. A price he gladly paid to save millions he'd never meet.
Sadly, only one woman remembered who he was, and that woman sought to birth his story anew. Now, his name appeared no longer smudged, and sections of the journal page appeared more complete, yet still too vague.
"Takuya… then he called this Genesis"
"It means origin"
"I guess it's a little more fitting than 'Thousand Cuts'"
Arisu named things often for her own enjoyment, however, she had a bad habit of being ever so slightly off. After all, she found the name 'Fatebreaker' appealing, although she herself did anything but break fate.
Rather, she weaved it anew. Saving lives, when Judgement's sentencing often took them away. Opposites, yet intertwined in their goals and ideals, Yin and Yang.
As they floated along the canal through the dark, hazy urban night, the Nyx took some time to grab her music box and flip its black disc.
A simplified illustration of a man with long black hair bleeding from the nose marked this song. It was from a genre of music the Third Horsemen was fond of, even if she was somewhat alone in that admiration compared to her peers.
"Be on guard. Keep the bounty alive"
"?"
Ahead, built into an additional side canal was a manual boat lift for small boats. A metal net long as a sloop, twice as wide, attached to four diagonal poles, tied to pulleys, ropes and chains.
The rusty contraption was powered by a large stack of thirty large Mana Crystals and operated by a group of five hustling teenagers.
They wore mismatching, sticked together clothing in dull colours and dirty hats that once depicted wealth. Found, fixed, resold, now worn again. Clothing easily over a hundred years old, passed down for many generations.
"Hey love! Wanna take the lift!? We'll give ya a discount!"
***
Side by side, a cloaked Witch and robed Wizard walked together in the dead of night. Their hoods down, if only to signal their wish for privacy.
13:55 to be precise, as a distant clocktower told with its glowing blue limbs; five minutes away from this world's midnight. Its distant silhouette invited a friend's strange method of transport in the form of a medieval floating lighthouse alongside a good amount of attached land.
Tonight, these old friends reminisced about a time long since past, in the calm before the storm.
"To give away such a prized artifact, are you certain it won't be stolen?"
Enda, an exceptionally tall, crimson haired woman leaned on her staff that hid a dark secret. Her red and white eyes gazed into the empty face of a statue that depicted their parties long gone triumph.
"Well, not to spill the beans, but I added a few things to avoid that happening again"
Merlin, boasting a trimmed grey beard and wearing his navy blue multi-layered robes, recalled a particular incident rather fondly.
"By my count, that was the third time it was stolen"
"Ohnononononoooohoohoooo. That first time does not count, alright?"
"We all have bad students, Myrddin. Neither of us are saints. Lets hope Adelard does not turn into another Morgan le Fay"
"Ah, pish posh-"
The old magus in his somewhat youthful form walked up to the statue that welcomed the denizens of Dragon's Mort and placed a hand on the plaque which nature had grown familiar.
"-What about 'im, eh? Surely he's stained like the rest of us"
"As much as Arther"
"Touche. I miss that cheeky bastard. Least we can still show im' a little respect"
Merlin placed his hand on the plaque commemorating himself, alongside his party, and waved away the moss.
'Takuya; The Forgotten Hero.
Enda; The Phoenix Witch.
Myrddin; The Timeless Seeker.
Alameda; The Divine Sage.'
In place of where once a name written faded the moment of creation, millions of times attempted to no avail, now harboured his name.
"Did you!?-"
"I don't hold dominion over that. The only woman who does-"
"Is in Nala, with Touji"
"Mmmm, yes. Funny that"
"You knew…"
"Not this time. Earlier today I had pull apart some bullets- detonate them- all that poppycock, and those boys mentioned something that jogged a memory"
"Hmph, I recall taking a bullet to my rear as a result of both of your antics"
"Haha, he promised to kiss it better, didn't he?"
"For a week, you two groveled at my feet begging forgiveness after that joke"
As if it was yesterday, Enda pictured both serious men acting like excited children when Merlin's overuse of magic happened to rip another hole through space and they got their hands on a loaded hunting rifle.
After messing around, shooting through five rounds, a process determined by who won rock-paper-scissors, they set it down to look over it once more. Neither realized they held in their hands a Carcano, which held six rounds.
Phoenix Witch she may be, but she still felt pain.
Scolded and embarrassed by immense shit-talking from a certain High-Drake who found it amusing that Takuya 'Fired a round into her ass', Enda was rightfully unhappy.
For days on end they did their best to please Enda as she crossed her arms and turned away, until the man who'd steal her heart found a path forward through her tastebuds.
He managed to recreate a beautiful red meaty soup and 'acquire' sharp shredded cheese, cooking it in what he assumed to be a normal cauldron of sorts, tucked away in the Witch's cave.
Such a tantalizing broth reminded Enda of a family she'd lost, and the new family that found her.
"Whatever happened to that bottomless pot?"
"Alameda took it to Thornsworth when Winter failed to pass, never saw it again"
"Shame, losing one of the four treasures"
"I tried looking… not only for Coire Ansic, anything that could prove he existed"
"..."
To this day, Merlin's greatest regret remained casting the spell that transformed history; past, present, future, and granted Takuya enough power to cut through an Elder Dragon that somehow absorbed a world tree.
It was a grand spell and no mistakes had been made. The Magus of Time, Space and Gravity knew she found nothing without uttering another word.
"All that was left was Genesis… Have I been too harsh on him? Merlin-"
"Never believed we stopped him for good. What about the blade?"
"It's in… five… pieces…"
"Then I have to ask Enda, if what Rider said is true, and the time comes, could you do it? Could you- kill Touji?"