"You cannot be saved, one so detestable as yourself."
-Heard by a nun in the temple square in the city of Hokes on revised number 13.
Green grinned as he sprinted through tall grass in the open forest. Agility. His joints shifted, letting him twist aside from a diving Pteranodon. They're persistent, I'll give them that. He touched the nearly healed wound on his side.
He leapt forty feet into the air. The arts could do incredible things—and though he'd once sworn them off, he'd embrace them one last time.
They're freeing, he admitted, even through the pain. Even through the hate. His pulx pistol had stopped the nightmares without blood—or arts. The perfect weapon.
He jumped again—forward this time—caught a Pteranodon's beak, and flipped. Strength surged through him as he slammed the creature to the ground.
Another caught his foot and yanked him upside down. The rest dove in formation, patterns in their chaos. He increased his weight and plunged, dragging the beast down. The arts bent reality—but only by their own rules.
Dexterity, he thought, forcing mobility through burning veins. He slipped free, pushed off, and slowed to a stop—he actually started floating upwards.
He released the art, landing softly. The arts worked strangely—but they always made sense to him. You only think they don't because you've used them wrong.
Fourteen Pteranodons perched in the trees around him—the rest of the flock, tails and all. Green reached for his shotgun—and froze. Gone. Flames. They'd stripped him of everything but his knife—the blade now gleaming in his hand.
One or two, he could outrun. Three or four, he could hit and fade. A dozen? No choice but to stand and fight.
One swooped. Green surged speed and strength—ducked low, kicked hard. Then shifted to dexterity, his body straining; never as attuned to the arts as other elves. Despite his training, his body was much less compatible with the arts.
With enhanced speed/dexterity he curved aside, slicing the next Pteranodon's wing as it passed.
Two more swooped by one after the other, and Green danced between them with a lethal grace. Every time he weaved, spun, or dodged he used his blade to rip apart the beast's wings.
This was his final kata—the one he'd learned before exile. Others might call it performance; he wouldn't be so inclined to agree. Even a kata was utilitarian with Kaisher.
Soon every Pteranodon lay grounded, wings shredded. They circled him still, blind and hissing. Green watched with an enhanced eye—one they lacked. He blinked—no eyes. Then how do they see? Beaks clicked in the dark. Echolocation.
Each beast hunted differently than the other. Taste for Borxt, smell for Septaroth, sound for Pteranodons. Green drew breath, enhanced his vitality, and whistled.
The reaction was instant—Pteranodons thrashed and collided midair. His enhanced lungs held the note nearly a minute. A minute he didn't need. The beasts tried to flee, wings useless, stumbling through the trees to escape the shriek.
When they were gone, he released the arts. Useful—but always painful. He turned and vanished deeper into the forest.
Carrie woke up in the hobble she and Vicky were sharing. Carrie was a good name, she was surprised when Green had started calling her that. But the more she thought about it, the happier she was with it. It made her feel more appreciated.
She got up, then changed from her nightgown into her day clothes. Which was made up of regular jeans with a grey button up shirt, and some tough rock-like boots.
The boots were leather on the inside but had a kind of shell on the outside, though it gave more protection, it also made it a little harder to walk in. She had always been used to slippers, or small cotton sandals.
After getting dressed she touched the wall, letting it fall apart, and stepped out. She took in a long breath, smiling. Yes she liked the name, she felt more complete with it.
The fact that the man she had apparently fallen for gave her the name made it all the sweeter. She'd just have to let the others know to use it instead of Careless.
Carrie walked over to grab a bundle of grass, then tossed it outside the starlight's grace. She wasn't sure why she did it but it was one of the chores she was tasked to do.
She did it in exchange for lodging. Though she was offered to stay for free, her conscience wouldn't allow her to take without giving. These bundles are heavy though.
Around ten minutes later, Vicky came out to help. She was a very sincere person, and her aura bespoke a hard worker who could get along with anyone. She was also very strong. While Carrie had trouble carrying one bundle, Vicky could hold two underneath her arms, then toss them over without much effort.
But that wasn't the only strength she saw from Vicky. Her aura did depict someone hard working. But it also showed as someone with a strong will and resolve.
"Ye're still worrit aboot yer laddie?" Vicky asked.
Carrie smiled. Yes they had a strange dialect, but Carrie found it more interesting rather than weird. She liked the way it sounded and found it fun to use.
"Aye, Ah'm worrit aboot him," Carrie replied. "Aye, he slew a Septaroth, but we hud tae rin in the end."
"He slew a Septaroth!?" Vicky said, surprised.
"Mhm."
"Wow. Ah didnae think it possible. He's a lot stronger than Ah thocht."
Carrie smiled, "aye, he is."
"An' ye're still worrit?"
Carrie nodded her head. Green was strong, she knew that, but the Pteranodons and Septaroth didn't worry her. But what scared her was whether or not Green encountered the other creature.
They weren't all that obvious to the eyes, and seemed to be able to move without a sound. But hiding the glow of an aura was impossible. And the other creature unnerved her.
Their aura bespoke a vicious hunger, she didn't know why they didn't attack, especially when she and Green were separated. But she wondered if they knew she knew they were there, and decided to move on. How intelligent could such a creature be?
A hunter that relies completely on stealth, Carrie thought. A shiver went down her spine. Green was sharp, but she could tell he wasn't as sensitive to being watched as prey should be. Carrie looked up at the starlight's grace that lit this place. Chreign protect him, please.
Green made his way along with a crowd of Borxt, he didn't like moving so slow, but he dealt with his impatience. This was the safest way. He could have covered himself in the slime, but that would numb his body.
Green looked down, he had a pair of baggy pants that tightened around his waist and ankles. For his shirt… Green wasn't wearing one. The only thing he had on was a large bandage that wrapped around his entire waist, and was tightened around one shoulder. It covered most of the left side of his chest, but Green was still surprised he didn't notice.
A shock shot up Green's leg, he grunted, jumping away, hitting into the slime coating on a Borxt. Green looked back where he had been. Nothing was there. Though it wasn't long before another pain hit his leg in the same spot.
He jumped away again, but when he looked down to his leg he saw deep gashes that looked to be the fault of a three clawed beast.
The wound was hurting far more than it should. So much so that Green desperately decreased his senses to dull it. Even then it was excruciating. Green put a hand to his leg, and felt something slimy there.
The Borxt mucus! Green realized with shock. The mucus, though a numbing agent, actually caused enough pain to kill a man if it got under the skin. Though the pain fuzzed his mind, Green couldn't help but think this course of events were intentional.
He got up despite himself, scanning the area. So just in case this was an attack, Green decreased his weight to less than nothing. He wanted to increase his strength, but he was already pushing his limit.
Weighing nothing was a strange experience, especially when you started floating. But before he could, he kicked off the ground with his good leg, letting him practically fly.
Though the arts named it as adjusting one's weight, it was really more like adjusting density. Of course that was only part of it, something akin to gravity also had its part.
Nevertheless, Green kept up his assent, which was actually fairly quick, until he reached the top of the forest. He grabbed a branch, keeping himself from floating into the sky, then sat and put his weight back to normal. He then put his focus into healing.
Though the arts could numb the senses, the pain it caused was the same regardless. But healing… healing was useful.
This particular art used existing blood to quickly cover the wound to create a scab, no matter how large. Then began filtering anything harmful out of the body by forcing him to throw it up. So far as he could tell, there were very few poisons that could actually kill him.
Green turned his gaze upward, initially mistaking the sun for a brighter star due to his decreased senses. But as the surrounding sky brightened he was surprised by his own misjudgment.
And finally, with his conscious relaxing, Green let himself pass out.