So, what now?
Silva pulled off the sweaty hazmat suit hampering her movement and tossed it to the ground. So far, everything seemed to be going... well. She hasn't been detected, nobody has even tried to pull on the door, and the Ranger on the other side of the receiver seems to have accepted her call for help without questioning it much. She anticipated that she would have failed miserably several times by now and ended up driven off or simply dead. To be in a position where things were... going as she wanted, a position where she was not simply coping with the flow of events that she had no way to control...
It felt off. Something wasn't right.
Silva ran out to the corridors. By now, even she could hear the loud thrashing that resonated through the mining complex and feel the light vibrations from each consecutive impact. That's definitely Firre. Who's he fighting, though? Her Mistress' words that she recalled mentioned something about Velinn Flare bringing someone to Sumire, someone whose possible clash with the Prince of Vale would fan the flames of war.
After a few minutes of running, when Silva turned at a corner and ran out to the steel bridge suspended above the mine depths, she witnessed exactly what was going on. A burst of heat and ash washed over her, forcing her to cross her arms and wince.
"Come on!" Argo screamed, with an exhilarated voice, as he descended upon Firre with his spear. It clashed against the prince's gunblade, letting forth a powerful shockwave that trembled much of the mine. Instantly, Silva crouched, hiding behind the handrails of the bridge, and peeked her eyes from behind a metal pole. The two Semblance users were fighting in the mines below, past carts, rocks and scattered equipment - they had been hastily evacuated as soon as the battle broke into here, but the few charred and burned bodies strewn throughout indicated that not everyone was able to escape the clash. Horrible...
The fighting, though... she had never seen anything like it before. Insanely fast, overwhelmingly so Here, at one moment, Argo spun the spear in his hand and then sent forward a flurry of thrusts, moving faster than even Silva could track - hundreds in the span of a second, she was sure. Yet, as if the attack was slamming against a brick wall, Firre blocked and deflected every single one with his sword - stepping back, slowly, but staying unscathed. Another moment - and now the prince has swung his weapon, pushing Argo into the sky, then sent forth a torrent of vine-like wooden outgrowths.
One after another, the vines met Argo's spear, spun in his hand like a disk blade, and were chopped off or pushed aside. He placed his finger in his mouth, then thrust it forth - a wave of heat washed past, charring the wood and breaking it apart into darkened chunks.
Silva briefly leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. That man in bronze armour... he appeared familiar. And then, it struck her. The raw power, backed by a powerful Semblance. That gleaming, somewhat flamboyant set of armour with dark overtones and a cape rolling on its back, a lamp depicted on its crest... A Mistralian, and not just any Mistralian - an Invulnerable. She had heard of them, a little from rumours, a little from reading books in the Amber House, but she had never expected to see one from up close.
Mistral needed warriors who wield Semblances and weapons much like Vale or Mantle, but it was an empire, and a tyrannical one, where a small class of pompous nobility reigned over a vast nation of thieves, swindlers, slaves and peasants. Training any volunteer in such abilities would only guarantee them leading revolts. The Invulnerables were thus Mistral's answer to the Rangers - they were taken from their families as little children and then trained in the court itself in order to serve as the Emperor's enforces throughout the entire continent of Anima.
Monsters, murderers, all of them... Watching the fight below, Silva clutched onto the handrail more tightly. Firre, you better... you better...
Win? Huh? What are you saying? Snap out of this.
She has more important things to do than just stay here and watch, anyway. So, she turned to the other side, where the narrow bridge oversaw the approaches to the wide exit of the mine. Some light was filtering inside past the rails that stretched throughout the mine depths. A set of metal stairs led there from the company offices - and, coincidentally, Velinn was descending down them right now.
Oh, of course he's escaping... That won't do.
Thankfully, as far as she was aware, there was an exit on the other side of the bridge - she saw Firre and those two clerks enter through it a while ago. So, Silva ran, then slid down the handrail to throw herself pretty much out into the outside. It took a second or so for her eyes to get used to the bright light after such a sudden leave, but once they did, she witnessed what must have been the businessman's escape plan.
"What... is that?" she muttered under her breath. A large vehicle was standing in front of the mine's main exit - she had never seen anything like it, but she'd hesitatingly call it a... "mechanical bee", or at least, a massively overweight one. Steel wings stretched from the top of a rectangle-shaped metallic compartment, while several huge crystals of Gravity Dust were embedded in the walls and stretching out like bulky sharp legs - if Silva had to guess, it was through their ability to make objects float that this machine could take off from the ground, as the small wings did not look large enough to provide any lift. Mantle's black and white emblem was proudly emblazoned on the side of the vehicle, and it glimmered in the sunlight.
Now that she's thinking about it... hadn't she heard something about "air ships" or whatever they were called being sighted in Mantle? The northern kingdom was always at the cutting edge of modern technology, so it made sense that this thing came from there.
Two of the mine's guards were standing in front of the airship, each one with swords hanging on their backs. Their time lazily watching over the vehicle and occasionally glancing over to the mine whenever a loud enough crash came from there was suddenly interrupted.
"Who's there?!" one of the guards yelled as soon as he saw Silva running towards them, then pulled out his weapon. Rocks began to grow on his body thanks to his Semblance, while his partner readied for battle alongside him - yet it was too late for them to stand and fight. Moving faster than either of the guards could track, much less swing, Silva slashed through them both with her pungi-sword and gracefully landed on the other side. Both bodies collapsed to the ground without any fanfare, and the Faunus girl then kicked them off to the side - she needed to make sure that Velinn does not get immediately alarmed for what she was planning.
Her eyes turned to the airship, and she tapped on her chin with a quizzed look. How does this thing work, exactly...? Oh, well, I am sure I can figure out a way to break it somehow. Walking around the vehicle, she thrust her sword through the steel chassis around the crystals a few times, made a slash at one or two places, then kneed it. The sound of something popping and then starting to whizz and blow came - that was very promising. So, now was the time to run and hide.
It's not going to work. It's not going to work. I can bet.
Silva snuck behind the airship, sheathed her sword and waited. A minute later, the sound of hasty running footsteps reached her ears. Mumbling something under his breath, Velinn stormed out of the mine and approached the airship, only to suddenly stop.
"Ohh... oh, gods, why are they gone, too...?" The businessman's voice was uncharacteristically worried, and it even cracked once. He then spat to the side and tossed his cigar away. "To hell with them. I'm getting out of here."
Without turning back, Velinn ran into the airship - the door closed shut, and the bulky vehicle slowly took off from the ground, floating up and letting out a jet of air from underneath. The vehicle's speed was nothing to write home about - it did not offer much beyond the ability to safely get over obstacles and Grimm, and if anything, it was more of a big floating chunk trying to slowly oar through the sky. Silva made a step back, watching it attempt to escape. Something snapped. Something buckled. When it was supposed to rise, it started falling down instead. The Faunus blocked her eyes with her arm right as the airship crashed into the ground, sending bits, pieces and Dust crystal shards flying everywhere.
Huh... I... That was probably a fluke. Maybe it wasn't gonna work in the first place.
Since it had only risen to a few meters before falling, the crash did not seem strong enough to kill Velinn - however, it was going to keep him locked inside there for a while, at least. That's exactly where she needed him.
Now, the fight...
With his sword stabbed to the ground, Firre ground himself to a screeching halt, then wiped away a trail of sweat running past his cheek with his thumb. His Aura protected him from most of the heat's effects, but not all - while around him, water within the soil and the rocks was evaporating, forming vapor that clouded the mine. It was almost as if he was in the middle of a giant sauna, except... actually deadly to the average person.
For a second, the prince looked down to the cloak covering the left side of his body - the tip of the fabric was smouldering, likely hit by a blast of heated air during the fight. Firre put the fire out with his finger, then twirled the weapon in his hand and readied it above his head.
If I understand his Semblance correctly, his saliva radiates immense heat, enough that its touch is able to burn trees to a crisp. Either Velinn was insanely lucky when he picked this Invulnerable to fight against me, or this was a deliberate attempt to counter my abilities... Without the ability to trap or restrain his opponent, he was pretty much limited to his close-quarters sword fighting.
It was... annoying, frankly, especially as he could never be in control of the fight like he wanted to, but that did not mean that he was all out of options.
After having kicked Firre through a pile of mining carts, Argo was approaching him - his silhouette emerged from the fog, holding the spear by his side and keeping his left index finger raised. Once more, he placed it in his grinning mouth and took it out.
Firre went for another approach. His finger sneakily switched his gunblade's bolt, and as soon as Argo raised his finger again, it got hit with a powerful burst of Dust. The shot achieved what it needed, evaporating the saliva on the tip and staggering the warrior - even if blowing off the whole finger would have been nice.
"Ah..." Argo muttered, turning his eyes at his hand. It didn't seem like he expected the prince's sword to have any ranged capabilities at all. "Clever little move-"
His words got cut short - Firre took advantage of the stagger to lunge forward, opening with a wide vertical swing. Though distracted, Argo reacted in time and blocked the strike - the base of his spear met the edge of the sword with a loud metallic clang. The prince pulled back and then went for a few more swipes, each one faster than the next, and finally, after a feint, thrust his weapon straight at his opponent's shoulder. This time, it connected - even if Aura protection meant that it was less of a piercing thrust and more a blunt blow which pushed Argo back for several meters.
Wood burst out of the ground, following Firre's raised hand, and "caught" Argo's neck. Like a flailing tendril, it then raised the armoured warrior to the air and slammed him down on the other side of his opponent.
Alright... this has been clever for long enough... it's getting annoying now.
In the midst of his struggle against the wooden restraint, Argo spat on it, and it turned blackened and crumbled into pieces almost immediately. He rose to his feet with a groan, twirled the spear in his hand and said:
"You're not very talkative, are you?"
Firre eyed down his opponent for a few seconds - now that Argo was in a defensive posture, it seemed foolish to go for another blatantly aggressive attack. So, while waiting for an opening, he answered:
"I don't find any reason to talk. Especially not to the likes of you." The venom behind Firre's words got Argo to snicker in amusement. "I'm not here to have a chitchat with a sparring partner. I'm here to defeat you - defeat someone who, as it seems, has been aiding a morally utterly despicable operation."
And, just like that, the smile vanished. Argo had not been briefed about what the prince of Vale was like, only that he was apparently making a name for himself in the kingdom for his skill at a relatively young age - fairly exciting news, if it meant fighting someone equally driven to get stronger and enjoy it. So, the first real impression he had of Firre was a little disappointing.
"Of course, of course..." Argo muttered under his breath, looking down to the spear in his hands. "You almost sound like your father, even..."
Suddenly, he planted his foot down and then threw himself forward, charging at Firre like a bull of bronze and gold, surrounded by picked up dust and gas. Firre was not intimidated, he slid to the side to avoid the first thrust - however, Argo changed direction faster than he expected. A barrage of strikes came in his direction with the speed of a machine gun - after the first thrusts and swipes, the armored warrior began spinning the spear in his hand like a rotor, occasionally turning it around and aiming from different angles to keep up the pressure, constantly forcing Firre back.
"How clueless!"
Right as Argo yelled that, the tip of his spear pushed Firre's sword to the side, allowing him to slip in closer - where he planted two punches into the prince's gut and then uppercutted him with the third.
"Can't you tell how lucky you are?" he said, watching Firre crash back to the ground with a smug smirk. "This isn't your ordinary bandit pack, or Grimm hunt - boring, mindless mass which generations of warriors have had to waste their skills on. This famished potential is finally going to receive a war, and we are the first who've gotten to fight this war..."
Firre pulled himself onto his feet with a pained groan. Argo, meanwhile, waved his hand, slightly pushing aside his cloak of golden wool.
"That kind of struggle... it's what gives people like you and I life. Don't waste it on this sort of functionalist nonsense. Enjoy being a part of history!"
"What... are you even talking about?" Firre yelled back. With a swing, their weapons met, clashing with a loud bang that pushed away the heated mist around them. "Millions of lives would be endangered, in a world where we are already always one step away from extinction because of the Grimm, and you want me to be excited? That we're heading to war? What do you even know of war?"
"What do I know of war?"
Argo suddenly struck Firre with his forehead, forcing him back, then licked his finger and swiped it across the air again, creating another heated air burst to push the prince one more step.
More water vapor was squeezed from the rocks. For an instant, the fog around Firre became intense, obscuring his opponent's movements until the last possible second - a spear end descending down on him, which he barely managed to block.
"I have been born into it!" Argo declared while their weapons struggled against one another. After a few seconds, he ended it by kicking Firre off, then moved on the offensive again. One powerful, spirited thrust after another, each one partially camouflaged by the fog. "Taken as a child, then kept as the Emperor's property in the court instead of being thrown out into the underbelly of Mistral because I unlocked a Semblance worth to use in battle... Deployed as the hounds of Mistral to help suppress a continent of cultures and rebellions... Spending my entire life, from morning to night, honing my skills, because I was raised as a weapon and always will be..."
In the midst of their clash, Argo changed his stance, which pushed Firre to commit a crucial mistake - he braced for an overhead, yet was met with a horizontal sweep which knocked his sword out of his hands and sent it crashing to the ground. Continuing with his attack's momentum, Argo struck his opponent's chest with the blunt end of his spear, pushing him back and forcing him to clutch onto his ribs.
I-damn... And with this heat, my Semblance is next to useless, too...
"And what do you know of war, prince?" the Mistralian warrior declared, standing straight and aiming his spear at his disarmed opponent. "Born in luxury, pampered and trained by your immortal father, sheltered - you've got skill, but the most you've fought, I'm guessing, is packs of Grimm. You've never experienced the thrill, never felt the pounding of your pulse, engaged in a battle of wits and strength against an equal... so of course, you're going to scream and cry about the horrors of something you've only read about in history books."
What did he just say...? What kind of father?
They were staring at one another - and while Firre did not seem that enthused, there was a spark in Argo's green eyes which he couldn't help but notice.
"When, what you're missing... is that this struggle is what we are born for." The red-haired warrior then kicked him down and planted his boot on his chest. Now that he was touching Argo's armour, Firre realised that all of the heat dispersed in the battlefield had turned the metal superheated - and so, it was painfully searing his chest, like an iron. "You'll start to realise it, too, if you survive. That we both are simple-minded monsters within, who merely want to crush, destroy, and prove our mettle..."
This is insane... I feel like I'm being cooked alive just by staying here.
Silva pulled the knocked out female attendant from the staff quarters and storage rooms onto the passenger bridge over the mine's depths - where the cinematic overview of the numerous branching caves and shafts was now replaced by a monotone layer of fog, making it impossible to see what was happening down there. Yet this blank sheet was anything but quiet - the clangs of weapons, shouts, yells and crashes came one after the other, keeping any observers alert to the duel that was taking place below.
The attendant was now undressed all the way to her underwear, and Silva was trying out her uniform. It was two sizes larger than her, which made the jacket and pants baggy and somewhat uncomfortable to walk around in - however, at least that also meant that it'll cover up the shape of her body somewhat and thus make her more difficult to be recognized at a glance. The Faunus girl then pulled off the guard's black T-shirt and ripped it in twain. This should do. She wrapped it around her head, covering everything but a narrow slit around her eyes.
This'll be useful, too. The guard's pistol, that is - which she stashed at her belt. A simple Dust loader which had two shots already in its wheel magazine. All ready, Silva leaned on the handrail, listening in on the sounds of battle and waiting to make her move. The plan was simple - sweep in, take down the guy who was fighting Firre, and-
Wait, why am I helping the prince, exactly? When she rushed back in to the mine, she started preparing for that plan without thinking - and only now did a thought in her mind occur, asking why she was going through with this in the first place? Wouldn't it be better to stay out and thus avoid the risk of being found, or, even more so, to take down Firre and ensure that the prince of Vale dies today, immediately sending his Kingdom down a path of bloodlust?
That'd be more logical, sure... Yet, Silva did not want to do either of those things.
Perhaps it was because he was fighting an Invulnerable, an enforcer of Mistral's tyranny. Merely seeing his face made her retch. It may sound foolish to have favourites in duels between humans, but the Valean prince was... well, at least not completely deplorable. He wasn't heartless.
Following where she could hear the humans speak and a thud on the ground follow, Silva leapt off the bridge. The air around her was saturated with water vapor, rising from the rocks - all she needed to do was to extend her palm outward and it began collecting in her palm. She wasn't able to shape water into anything she wanted - only bladed weapons, but that was going to be enough.
More than enough. Water particles coalesced together and formed a greatsword, turning larger, larger and wider as she ran.
Though still looking down on Firre at first, Argo raised his attention to the fog around them. It was turning increasingly thin, which would have only been a faint curiosity in of itself, were it not for rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Huh? Who's ther-"
A five-meter-long sword of water suddenly emerged from the fog - even raising his spear to block it didn't help much and the sheer force knocked him aside. Argo spun in the air and landed with a slide across the dried earth.
The wielder of the giant water weapon emerged afterwards. A girl with a cloth over her face? Where'd she come from?
"And what is your deal, little girl? Came to rescue your prince in an hour of need?" As intimidating as that Semblance appeared to be, and as hard as that sword hit, Silva's stance immediately betrayed that she was the one overtaken by fear - she seemed unsure, and Argo thus ran forward without much hesitation.
Firre pulled himself off the ground, letting out a pained groan from the lingering pain of the burn. Much like Argo, he had no idea where this woman came from, what her goals were, and whether she was even here for him, or for some other, unrelated reason. He was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, however - and as soon as Argo began charging forward, he pointed his hand towards his felled weapon. A tree trunk grew from underneath it, picked it up by the hilt and delivered it to his hand like a tendril.
Hastily, the prince switched its bolt, aimed, and fired straight at his opponent's armour. Direct hit - and it pierced through the metal, too, leaving a bent gap in the middle of the chestplate and forcing Argo to make a step back.
"Agh..." he groaned. The water greatsword went down on him next, crashing like a tidal wave and sending him rolling across the ground.
It wasn't going to be enough. Watching Argo rise back up to his feet after the dual hits once more, Firre grit his teeth. Even with this girl, all we're doing is just knocking him around...
Salvation, thankfully, came. But not because of either of them. Suddenly, to Firre's surprise, Argo raised his wrist and pulled up the golden wool over his arm to reveal a hand clock. Damn it. Too late. She's already here, I'm guessing. And there's two of them now, too, so I probably won't be able to take them down in time if I tried... Inside of the mine, he could not see what was going on in the town itself, so all he could do was assume.
"Well, this was fun," Argo suddenly announced. "Unfortunately, it seems I must bid my adieu. Don't worry, we won't be separated for long."
"What...?" Firre mumbled, not sure how to even react at first. Is he... leaving? Running away? While Silva was stepping back and letting her water weapon disintegrate, the prince ran forward with his sword at the ready. "You're kidding me! Get back here, we're not-"
A nonchalant swipe of the blunt end of Argo's spear knocked him back, sending him crashing flat on his back.
"I agree. We're not done. So, kid, cower in terror and await my return." Punctuating his words with a confident laugh, the red-haired warrior with a cloak of gold turned around and... left. Slowly at first, then, moving faster than the eye could track, he sped out of the mine entirely.
And that girl...
Firre looked to his side.
...she's gone too.
Left alone in the middle of an evacuated mine with a seared chest in agonizing pain, the defeated prince weakly pulled himself on his feet, holding himself up by his sword.
"Finally!" a whimpering shout followed after the door of the tipped over airship snapped open and Velinn's head stuck out from the top. For a bit, he though he was actually trapped inside of this blasted thing. How did it break down and collapse out of nowhere, anyway? They brought it down in front of the mine mere minutes before he arrived, and it was already broken. Mantlean engineering wasn't that sloppy, was it?
Speaking of sloppiness, perhaps it was his own at play, too - because it was only now, pulling himself out of the crashed vehicle, that he noticed two bodies scattered at the side of the landing site. The guards that were supposed to have been waiting for him here, it seems... Both were deliberately thrown out of the way, and Velinn, in a rush to get away from the battle of titans taking place on his property, had not even noticed.
But... Firre wasn't here, no? Kentan and Eil were supposed to have escorted him through the employees' stairwell and bridge...
If it wasn't him, then who the hell? And, more importantly, how the hell is he supposed to get out of here, now?
It's fine. It's fine. It's fine. Velinn leapt off the airship and pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. The Mantlean Fleet should be here anytime now. And that will solve all of my troubles... should solve all of my troubles... maybe.
...No. Can't trust them. I need to get the hell out of here.
What was that... whirring sound he was starting to hear behind him, actually? The sound of distant engines, rapidly approaching the entrance of the mine from Sumire's direction, reached him. That didn't sound like Mantle's floating ships - for one, the sound, if there were any, would come from the air, rather than the ground. Velinn peeked over the side of the downed airship. It was a motorcade - over a dozen single-seated Dust vehicles, each one spewing out large gulps of ash and smoke from their engines, were approaching the mine in formation - all while another large group of riders were making their way towards Sumire itself.
The vehicles - he'd call them bicycles, if they weren't so bulky, and obviously Dust-powered - were blazoned with the dual axes and wreath of the Kingdom of Vale.
It can't be...
Why were the Rangers here? He specifically took all precautions to keep the Kingdom's forces out of this! Judging from the second motorcade that took towards Sumire itself, they were going to occupy the whole colony while also... heading for him.
There was nowhere else left to go. Velinn raised his hands and walked forward, meeting the arriving motorcade. One after another, Ranger bikes stopped in front of him, each one with a loud buckle as their steam engines powered by Combustion Dust turned off. Immediately, the businessman noticed that the Rangers all seemed oddly young. A few of them may have had a few years of service behind their belt, but most seemed to be straight out of Lantern Academy. Including their commanding officer - a short, yet determined looking officer with short blonde hair and a crossbow strapped to her back, who jumped off her vehicle and immediately walked up to Velinn.
"Well, hello there, welcome to Sumire, should I-"
"Vale Ranger Corps. Our apologies for showing up uninvited. I am Commander Betula, and we were informed that there's an attack taking place in this establishment. Judging from the state of your... airship?, it seems that something is going on."
"Wait..." Did I hear that surname correctly?