Here it is… the start of it. God Speed my fair readers.
And big boi pants on everyone. This chapter in particular gets a wee bit heavy on the cruelty. We're putting our main cast through the wringer from here on out.
Nia and Kassandra reached the eastern edge of the trade guild. A winding staircase lead up out of the lower markets, the wood a dark red and coated in polished lacquer. The two Blades ascended the first, lengthy flight of stairs at a quick jog.
Now that she was looking for them, Nia spotted a lot more of the cloaked figures throughout the bazaar. She might have worked up the nerve to confront any she caught alone, Kassandra could certainly serve as some kind of back-up, but they constantly darted out of view and never stayed still.
The notion that they were being monitored hastened the girls' pace.
The first landing where the stairs went back the other way was a wide platform, about the size of a living room. A young, dark haired man of Gormotti descent stood leaning against the far railing over the center of the markets. He was facing the ascending steps, ears standing straight, his jade eyes wide and gaze unwavering.
He had both hands raised high over his head.
Their pace had been too quick. They were both up on the platform before Nia froze at the sight of the man. The cat girl's teeth clenched as she turned up the steps, the muzzles of several carbines aimed down at the pair of Blades.
At once the sound of a modest stampede approached from below. Kassandra watched four or five of the cloaked individuals bounding up from the ground floor, skipping steps five at a time as they swiftly closed the distance. Beneath their billowing garbs, she could see the dense pipeworks wrapped around their bodies coursing with strange energy.
A "masculine" screech issued from the man on the railing as several grappling hooks latched onto the banister all around him. Another four troopers tethered up from the floor below and vaulted onto the platform, the wooden railing cracking under the weight and force. One snatched the shrieking man by the back of his neck and drove him chest down into the floorboards.
Shouts and screams rang out from the market and in an instant three thundering shots boomed across the area. The nearby panic stilled as more distant sounds of distress began.
"Hands up," demanded the front gunman of the descending group. Nia's face was a mask of fury, her eyes doing their damnedest to light the fucker on fire. Kassandra caught her friend's shoulder with one hand whilst raising the other. There was a tense pause before Nia followed suit.
The squad ascending the stairs spilled onto the landing, circling the two Blades as the group that grappled up – save the one handling the still squealing civilian – lined up along the edge of the platform. Some of the soldiers jostled Kassandra in passing, pushing her closer to Nia.
Notably though, none of the invaders touched the Gormotti girl. Hell, they gave her as wide a berth as possible as they surrounded the two Blades, jousting their various compact and long guns towards the duo. Nia couldn't help her unease at their behavior, an emotion that swiftly grew to match her rage.
The man who'd ordered their surrender stepped down, flanked by his squadmates. By the virtue of being the only one with a personality, Nia pegged him as the leader. This was further confirmed when he holstered his weapon and advanced straight towards the cat girl.
His arm lashed out like a serpent, crashing into the side of her head. Before she could stumble, the man's leather bound mitt clamped onto the back of her scalp, the rough gloves clawing through her hair.
Kassandra made to intervene, halted by a warning shot from one of the grunts that scorched past her face. The shot rent the air, a visible heat trail lingering for a short time.
The bandaged Blade's mask started shaking.
Walking past without a word, the leader yanked the girl along behind him. His entourage held their guns on Nia, just one soldier advancing Kassandra towards the rail at gunpoint. Reaching the banister, the piping along her captor's arm flared yellow as he swung Nia around, driving her brow through the wooden barrier.
Kassandra's mask was rattling. Her watcher growled at her to stop but she paid him no mind.
The leader shook Nia's skull, whipping the stars out of her vision. He knelt down beside her, turning her face towards him. The cat eared girl noted the cloudy color and single slice through his left eye.
"Consider that pain your penance for my being forced to touch you, monster."
Nia was this close to spitting in that split eye of his. She could feel the bastard was daring her to do it.
The three others standing over the railing with rifles drawn on the crowd below shifted their barrels upward. Each released a volley of shots, commanding all eyes up to the landing.
Kassandra observed the lances of condensed heat issue from their white weapons. She watched the thin, curved surfaces light up saffron, the firearms interlaced with lines of cord similar to the thick cables that garbed the troopers themselves. Near the stock of each weapon, dangling wire could be seen feeding back into their body binding pipeworks.
Slit Left stood tall at the edge of the platform. His right arm, alight with that searing yellow glow, lifted Nia off her feet and presented her to the crowd below.
"Rejoice!"
The call reverberated across the markets, utter silence following in its wake. Kassandra's trembling mask was now a low vibration. No admonishment came to her.
"Your Benevolence has come to rid you of yet another dreg that slithers amongst us!"
Nia's blurred vision cleared enough to make out figures amidst the shops. The unfamiliar and unknown glanced about in confusion, searching for answers. Perhaps a few were looking for proof this was all an elaborate hoax, some kind of staged event.
People she could recognize met her amber gaze head on. They appeared to be waiting, some of them quite anxious.
"Now," Slit Left proclaimed, his free hand raised high, "I reveal the sin to the light!"
His palm slammed into Nia's collar, clutching the front of her garb with animal savagery. Using her head as a fulcrum, Slit Left began slowly tearing the fabric over her front.
The grip on her scalp was immeasurable, thick digits practically digging into her skull. Her captor's left arm was notably lacking the electric glow which seemed to grant tremendous strength. He was deliberately dragging this out.
Nia wailed in agony, Slit Left's eyes alight with righteous joy. Kassandra had her bottom lip between her teeth, a trail of blood flowing from the corner of her mouth. Her mask was humming.
The leader ripped open the front of her patchwork outfit, enough to show the bare skin above her bust. A small, rose colored gem sat embedded in her sternum.
"A cannibal," Slit Left roared, "a Flesh Eater! An aberration against the sacred order ordained to us by The Architect!"
The difference between Argentum transients and long term residents showed true. Those passing through and new to the guild beheld the proclamation with renewed confusion, a few sporting looks of fear, disgust, and anger.
But the trade guild's regulars, the ones who knew Nia on a first name basis? There was little to no surprise to be had. The air of "waiting" became more charged – they looked like they were "readying" themselves.
"Your Benevolence has long sought it and others of its ilk! Our actions are in service of a safer, truer world for all who bask in The Architect's light!"
Along the edge of her vision, Nia followed the path of a tall figure topped in neon pink. Though he was doing his best to stay discreet, his haste would no doubt get him noticed.
"Our people have died in this pursuit!" At this, Slit Left's free arm came alight with hazel radiance. A second later he drove his fist into Nia's stomach. "But still we persevered! And through our dedication, we are awarded triumph!"
Nia released several pained gasps for air as her lungs were brutally emptied. Kassandra's tightly balled fists were going numb from the pressure. The eyes on her trembling mask were now smoldering.
"For not only have we captured the abomination," Slit Left jerked Nia in harsh motions, "but our most faithful has apprehended its associates! Vermin who aid and benefit a tarnished such as this!
"Today, we, Your Benevolence… bring you Judgment!" His fellows raised their guns and unleashed a long volley of shots backed by zealous cries.
Those below remained silent and still.
Slit Left lowered Nia, his mouthpiece resting near her ear. "Saturn has your Toy."
Life surged over Nia's features, a deadly cocktail of panic and wrath. This only seemed to bolster her handler.
"They're right up there," he gestured to the floor above, "in the nopon's office. I doubt Saturn has the patience to drag him out. How about we have a listen? You can hear him when he dies."
The zealot turned about, holding Nia on her knees and forcing her attention towards the chairman's office. But something else caught their focus.
Kassandra had been left mostly unguarded. She stood behind the half ring of shooters poised on the Gormotti girl. Her own minder had abandoned his duties, curled up on the floor and clutching his head as he rolled to and fro. If they could see his mouth, it would be peeled open in a silent scream.
The scarlet eyes of the fox mask were ablaze. Darkness seemed to gather around the twin pools, accenting the crimson rays that pierced through.
But the mask was no longer perched on the back of its master's head. Kassandra held the pale covering before her face. The brunette's wine hued eyes were impossibly wide, her gaze haunting.
"I'm afraid you've said too much – done too much… I can no longer forgive you."
If it had been any other circumstance, Kassandra's hollow tone of voice would have shaken Nia. Although she was not immune to being unsettled, her rage tempered such concerns. She watched. She waited. She readied.
Kassandra donned the mask. The Benevolence raised their weapons. The staircase fell free of its moorings.
Mirthful chuckles filled the chairman's office. A few of Saturn's subordinates mirrored his humor. Not once did they drop their guard. In spite of everything, they were very disciplined.
"Oh wow," Saturn cut off, "that face." He gestured with his hammer towards Rex and Dromarch. Their expressions were nothing short of furious.
The tiger spoke, his tone mostly under control, "Have you no idea the gravity of what you've done? This could well be considered an invasion – a blatant declaration-"
"Of war?" The white armed man spoke with an air of childish curiosity, shifting his head to the side to add to the image. "I'm sorry, were we not clear enough before when we tried killing you the first few times? This is war."
As the man trailed off, he raised his prosthetic hand high overhead. "A holy war…"
Bana's clients visibly stiffened. None more than the silver clad swordsman whose flesh became deathly pale.
Saturn lowered his arm, pointer extended towards the boy and Blade, "One, specifically, against you lot."
The chairman cleared his throat, drawing attention from the man in the wide hat. "Such aggression – entertainingly forward – is no less insulting! We have agreement regarding Re-"
An arm shot out, garbed in blue plate. Rex met Bana's eyes as his gesture cut the nopon's speech. The boy's gaze conveyed desperation and he slowly shook his head towards the chairman.
To his credit, Bana deflated. While certain deals may have been made in regards to Rex and Nia's "situations," deals which Bana – chairman of the trade guild – would be privy to, these extremists certainly wouldn't honor them.
Their lot had long cut ties with the Praetorium.
"Agreement," Saturn spat as though the word disgusted him, "how typical of Amalthus."
He hiked up his weapon before spiking the pointed base into the floor. Lines of golden energy surged down the hammer's staff, sparking at the pyramid end. The carpet flared and was shortly charred black, the wooden flooring split by a deep fissure.
"We don't honor his word. Those who stand between us and our quarry are obstacles. And obstacles are to be surpassed. Circumvented. Surmounted. Now, if you plan to be difficult-"
Saturn's mechanical limb shot outwards. A swift blast was sent down at an angle, a visible beam of heated air flaring into existence. Bana's ponytailed attendant loosed a sharp shriek from her position on the ground. The blocky pistol she was palming clattered to the floor.
A second shot from Saturn cracked the weapon inwards, skipping the charred wooden frame off towards the far corner of the room.
The tanned girl's continued whimpers were underscored by a light sizzling sound. She was holding her right wrist quite tightly, the flesh of her hand a glaring shade of red.
"That was a love tap," Saturn lectured, curling his prosthetic fingers in a wave like motion, "a warning shot. Just a little prelude to the price for insolence. I really don't like insolents. All that extra work-"
Malos stepped out of line, arms crossed and expression unconcerned. "Alright, this has all been worth a good chuckle, but you really are starting to try my patience."
Saturn's gaze was turned downward, his hat's brim concealing his face. Leaning his elbow atop the head of his hammer, he raised his left hand, pointer extended.
"Hush."
The single word command gave Malos pause. There was something in the man's tone, something he readily perceived. Though the muscular Driver maintained his stance and overall air, he did remain silent.
Patroka's mouth fell open.
"Hush up, hush up, hush up," Saturn chanted, waggling his finger at every beat. "I mean really, come on now. Just because our discussions are of a hostile nature doesn't mean we cease to observe our manners. That would leave us as little more than base beasts or…"
At this, the man in the wide hat swung his sights on Rex, "… filthy half breeds, know what I mean, boy?"
The smile Saturn sported as the young salvager's face twisted into rage was one of crazed euphoria.
"Shut up." Saturn advanced on Rex, leaning invasively into his space. Dromarch bared his teeth in a warning snarl, his threat answered by several guns swerving in his direction.
"No, no, let's not clam up now. Tell me about your little friend. Where is it?"
"Shut up."
"Was it worth it? Casting aside your own humanity just so you could chase a little tail?"
Rex moved. Saturn moved faster. His prosthetic hand caught the boy's fist, halting it as it wound up for a punch. He crouched down, jutting the top of his hammer up beneath the boy's chin. A searing shot from one of the watchful gunmen hit Dromarch in the left shoulder, stopping the tiger's retaliation.
"Oh my," Saturn laughed, "such a heated response. Guess its honey must be sweet."
"You're disgusting."
The white armed man pressed his weapon harder against the salvager's throat. "Oh you're the last person I want to hear that from. The aforementioned debauchery aside, I certainly don't abide being lectured on morality by a murderer."
The last word was seethed. For the first time during the encounter, Saturn's playful insanity gave way to genuine anger.
Dromarch's features stilled. Rex stared back into his captor's eyes, meeting Saturn's hatred with his own steady gaze. Bana's clients watched on in silence, Malos and the white haired swordsman with particular interest.
"You," Rex rasped, his tone as even as he could manage, "all of you," the boy's glare sweeping over the grey cloaked warriors, "you always see only what you want to see."
Saturn gave his hammer a little thrust, causing Rex to choke. "You were there, with that sword, and he was cut down. Don't try to tell me it was some illusion, I'll never forget that sight."
His mechanical limb released Rex's fist, the angered man taking a step back. In the blink of an eye, Saturn speared his hammer into the diver's chest, throwing him to the floor. Dromarch instantly stood over his felled crewmate.
"What it did to us was crippling," the man in the long coat continued, speaking to the air. Then his focus turned to the floor, his hat's brim obscuring his features, "But what it did to his father…"
Dromarch could hear no more, "Enough! You were after our lives, did you really expect us not to fight back?"
"You were meant to lose. You're the bad guys, that's the way it is." Saturn looked up, his eyes hollow and his expression blank. "Taking one of ours and continuing to live afterwards? It's not just that maneater you keep, truly all three of you are stains against the order of this world."
Rex sat up, gritting his teeth against the strain. In his right palm, pressed upon the floor, a teal light began to shimmer. Dromarch's fur started to bristle, the glowing circles on his armor growing more radiant.
Saturn's smile was empty. "So ready to fight? It must be close by…" He raised his prosthetic arm, the golden glow of power overtaking its surface. Then the sunkissed light lifted from his limb, forming a floating band that wrapped around the length of his arm. At once a bright blue sphere appeared over the elbow end of the band, indicating a reading coming from behind him.
But the man's eyes perked when two additional spheres came into being, one white and one orange. With his arm outstretched, the orbs were oriented in an obvious direction.
Saturn's sight snapped towards Bana's clients. "My, my, my, got a whole convention going on tonight."
Whatever was left to be said was lost in the sudden boom that rocked the entire office. Saturn shot his right palm forwards, fingers splayed as the band of light twisted down around his wrist before erupting into a circular plane of rotating glyphs.
As the enormous slug struck the shield of light and detonated, Bana clicked his tongue before ducking behind his desk, making to reload the behemoth that was his wing held cannon.
Smoke flooded the room and in an instance Rex was on his feet, Nia's scimitar in hand. Likewise, Dromarch's form was rumbling, streams of water flowing around his body.
The squad of zealots holding the clients at gunpoint aimed their barrels at the two. It was a terrible mistake.
Patroka drilled an elbow into her captor's padded front. At the same time her four armed Blade summoned a massive black morning star, hefting it in both his right hands. With terrible strength he made to bring the spiked ball down on the trooper behind their swordsman.
"Jin," barked Patroka.
The white haired warrior, Jin, drew his blade in a flash of movement. As though rehearsed, the black plated Blade dropped low as Jin's slash screeched over its head. Malos replicated the effect by leaning forward slightly. The soldier standing behind the darkly garbed brute couldn't react before the sword arced through him.
He stood dumbly for a few seconds, Jin recovering his stance. Then a geyser of blood burst from a long cleave across his belly and the zealot collapsed to the floor.
Patroka's Blade balked as his target fired off a round from his handgun. The surprisingly potent shot blasted the business end of the morning star into ether mist. Undaunted, the pale Blade stepped in, making to smash his opponent with the shaft of the weapon instead. The shooter's free hand, his grey cloak fisted in its grasp, rose up to catch the falling staff.
At the moment of impact, the trooper's mass of stone hued fabric ran ablaze with silver sigils. The white Blade was rocked backwards as the solid shaft simply bounced off the man's fist.
The insurgent shot back through the double doors into the adjacent room, avoiding the golden point of a fucking trident wielded by Patroka. The brunette quickly gave chase, a shout of "Perdido, come!" all she offered her companions. Her now named Blade flew in behind her, manifesting a white heater shield in one of his left hands. One of his rights swiftly reached for a curious hilt poking from the top of the shield, drawing forth a gleaming broadsword from the pale protector.
A volley of blasts tore through the smokescreen, lances of heat piercing the dark cloud. Dromarch stood before the blue clad salvager, some bolts pelting his front as the white tiger channeled streams of water towards his head.
The barrage halted. Saturn leapt through the smog, flanked by a pair of his fanatics. The white armed man had his hammer raised high, both hands ready to drive it into Dromarch's skull.
Rex sent out a wide slash, an arcing wave of water whipping across the three assailants.
One took the torrent full on, being slapped back through the dissipating smoke. Saturn didn't so much as flinch when the cutting stream struck his chest. His dark long coat shimmered in intricate patterns of sapphire, the long blade of water literally washing off his body. Rex lost track of the third attacker as he quickly raised his sword.
Saturn's weapon came crashing down, the force driving Rex to one knee. The hammer's wielder pressed down with more of his weight, his manic visage pushing towards the boy's face. Saturn snapped at him, his teeth clacking together like a wild beast, hums of laughter drifting from his throat.
The third insurgent hefted his rifle, buzzing with its building charge.
"Hey!"
The shout caught the padded man's attention. He turned to see Bana's short haired secretary crouched over the aid with the ponytail. The blonde held a long barrel revolver, the muzzle poised on his head. She squeezed the trigger, blasting a round through the trooper's left eye.
Another six gunmen stepped through the smokescreen as it finally faded. The short haired attendant was busy helping her colleague, Bana was taking cover, and Rex was struggling against the leader. As his subordinates took aim all over the room, Saturn sneered at his opponent.
"Well whaddaya know, guess you lose."
"Not yet," and Rex fell back on his ass. The madman in the trench coat balked at the display. He had lost track of Dromarch, a swirling orb of water by his mouth, Saturn and his cohorts lined up in front of him. The tiger roared.
The deluge that exploded consumed the space in shifting cyan light. The liquid wall that rushed just past Rex's lowered form smashed the enemy into the corner of the office. The solid edges of the room offered no resistance as the tidal blast shattered through them with tremendous force.
Bana's red door had barely survived the attack, a gaping hole to the outside guild resting just to the right of its curved frame.
As expected following an explosion, the sounds of pandemonium rang loud outside. But the chaos seemed sustained, not just starting up. The whistling screech of the zealots' weapons blared out across the markets in a mad rhythm.
"My Lady," Dromarch growled out, his voice rough and savaged.
Rex dashed for the hole, yelling "Let's go!" as he ran. One of the grey cloaks stirred, lifting himself with his long gun as a crutch. Rex cleaved through the white weapon in passing, the struggling insurgent's arm split open just beneath the wrist. The boy continued through the threshold.
Something swift and blunt whiffed past the young salvager's brow. Rex spun around, painful static arcing through his hair for a brief moment. A shorter soldier stood on the outside of the red door, his body binding cables alight with electric lines. The pale metal rod in his right hand surged with the same yellow patterns, the spiked, golden ball at the top crackling with charge.
Then the door behind him ruptured, a spiraling jet of water plowing through it and the invader standing in front of it. Dromarch's roar could be heard warbling through the giant aqua column.
The spinning surge crashed through the mahogany banister at the edge of the floor, tiger and trooper sailing off into empty space above the bazaar.
Rex hurried after, jumping off the broken barrier and twisting around in mid air. A small grappling hook stuck into the wooden ledge, the blue clad diver rappelling down on the anchor shot.
Malos simply could not wipe the smile off his face. As the darkly clad brute stepped forward, Bana poked his head out from behind his desk. The nopon's features went slack as he took in the state of his office. His two attendants circled around beside him, the blonde supporting the brunette.
Jin traced Malos' casual advance with silent eyes, the carefree warrior walking towards the destroyed entrance.
"We still need him, right Jin?" Malos spoke without looking, answering the unasked question. Like a shadow, his monstrous Blade followed in his wake. "And besides, you are interested in that kid's story."
The silver clad swordsman didn't deny the statement. Malos stepped through the shattered gap in the wall just as the zealot with the sliced arm began to stir. He stomped down on the man's head like he was crushing a troublesome insect, his re-breather cable snapping in his jaw with a bright spark.
Malos turned to his Blade, they met each other's eyes, and both shared a laugh as they departed.
"Jin."
The masked warrior turned to Bana. As the chairman kept his sights on the massive hole in the wall, his wing cannon at the ready, the blonde aid fiddled with something behind his desk.
"Would appreciate help in repelling these bothersome fools. And please to making sure Rex is okay. He has… good value."
Jin flicked his nodachi, whipping blood off the steel edge and onto the very corpse from whence it came. The swordsman moved towards the double doors leading back into the waiting room, Patroka's shouts echoing out from side passages that extended throughout the background of the guild. Jin glanced at Bana over his shoulder.
"And our deal?"
"Meh-meh. We business partners: long as money flows, Bana honors agreements."
There was a loud click as the short haired woman found what she was looking for. As she reached down for her injured coworker, the desk and a large section of the floor began descending into some hidden recess.
"See Bana when incident resolved. Bring Rex if can. Otherwise, we work out something else. Bana has other means."
The chairman and his secretaries vanished into the floor. Jin marched through the doors and towards a small threshold tucked away in a corner of the adjacent room. The crimson gem set between the hilt and blade of his weapon pulsed intensely.
People charged away from the collapsing staircase. With all eyes focused on the display formerly occurring there, they had plenty of advanced warning. The Argentum regulars especially were quick to act, hauling dazed patrons and the like out of the path of destruction.
The man being held hostage on the high platform shrieked in terror as the floor was swept out from under him. His limbs flailing madly and panicked shots streaking from the barrels of the falling gunmen, the green eyed Gormotti consigned himself to a, hopefully, quick death.
A strong arm wrapped around his middle. At once his momentum shifted sideways, catapulting him out of the crash zone. The sizzling whizz of one of those heat rounds zipped just past him. His arms found the frame of his savior and the man held on for dear life.
Kassandra flew through the maroon canvas top of a market stall. Heat lances flared towards her from all directions, only just deflected by her natural barrier of hexagons. She struck the ground hard, her and her cargo going into a tumble that further tangled them in the heavy tarp.
The staircase hit the floor with a terrific boom, shattering planks and shards bursting forth at speed. The thick cloth surrounding them did well to keep Kassandra and the man unscathed. The howls of pain belting out around them said that others were not so lucky.
More scorching rays rang out. An intense heat lashed across the right side of Kassandra's head.
She spun in place towards the heat's source. Her wrapped hand extended, the darkness that surrounded them appearing to… flow into her palm. The scarlet glow of her mask' eyes quickly overtook the confined space.
From the outside, it appeared that the obvious lump in the fallen tarp was starting to balloon. The shadows formed between the cloth's creases began to fade into the fabric.
Staggering out from the ruins of the stairs came a squad of the grey cloaks. They were dustier than desired, but no worse for wear. At the sight of the bulging tarp, the four insurgents raised their weapons.
"Sustained," a female voice called from one of the figures, "light it up til it's reduced to ashes!"
From the cores of their white rifles, the small hums of power grew swiftly to a terrible rumble. As the yellow lines of energy charged fully up the lengths of their barrels, four dense beams blared out across the bazaar. The instant they touched the tarp, it burst into flames.
Darkness spilled free of the inflated section of the fabric. It swiftly overcame the fires around it, the erratic flow further tearing through the ruined canvas.
The shooters balked at the writhing shadows. The commanding voice from before shouted, "Sustain, dammit! Burn it out!" Through the shade and embers, she could see the true threat.
Flames devoured the large tarp quickly. Kassandra stood amongst the billowing smoke, her white garb streaked in soot. Before her outstretched right floated a dense plate of purple and black. The rending rays pelted the dark barrier with tremendous force. It, in turn, hungrily feasted, reducing heat and force to nothing.
The terrified man from before rested behind her – behind the shield. His knees were tucked up against his chest, ears splayed flat and whimpers sounding as he rocked back and forth.
Wisps of blue leapt from the barrier, pooling in Kassandra's extended palm. The cyan glow built into a long rod in the Blade's hand, one end burning brighter than the other.
"Move wide, flank her!"
The soldiers complied, smoothly strafing to widen their ranks. They maintained both the strength of their beams and a fair degree of accuracy throughout. Kassandra, through the crimson gems of the fox mask, swept her gaze across them.
Then she focused on the figure second from the right. The blue glow gathering in her hand turned violet.
Pressure assailed the invader, enough to cause him to stagger. Before he could think to collect himself, a maddening wave of vertigo crashed over him. Dazed, the fanatic collapsed to the ground.
The enemy furthest to the right paused as his comrade fell. He staggered back as he took in his ally's discarded weapon. The conductive lines across its surface were alight with color. They burned blood red.
That same wrathful hue continued up the cord connecting the weapon to the larger system wrapped around the downed soldier's body. The lines pulsed with unbound power.
"Shit," the trooper yelled, "the power core is-"
He never got to finish. Their squad leader turned towards the shouter just as her downed colleague's entire pipework frame flared scarlet, even the glyphs sewn into his cloak going ablaze.
Then the system, and the person wrapped up in it, detonated. It went off like a firework, the ensuing flash blinding the squad leader and her leftmost companion. The trooper standing closest to the blast, the one that hollered out the warning, took a good deal of the actual blast. He was flung quite brutally through a wooden post serving as the corner of a large stall.
Brief as the explosion was, it had killed one of her men and downed another. And more pressing still, it provided an opening.
Kassandra advanced in powerful bounds. The purple rod turned solid black, completely absorbing the remnants of the dark barrier as she charged through it. The still brightly glowing end bloomed into a bulbous shape bound in white wrappings. A circular, flat "head" rested at the front of the shape, its center curving in towards a small depression where a crimson light radiated.
The "back" of the bludgeon formed a half sphere, the wrappings criss-crossing over the curve of the weapon. Lengths of the binding dangled freely from various points around the circumference of the rear dome.
Kassandra gave her weapon a short twirl, taking it in both hands as she swiftly closed the distance. The stunned leader had hardly lifted her gun a fraction of the way before the flat of the bludgeon cascaded down onto her right hand.
She heard a quick snap before her recovering vision beheld only the scarlet glare of the fox mask. Wordless, Kassandra burst forward. Her elbow smashed into the woman's chest, sailing her back into a pile of debris.
The last grey cloak standing brought up his rifle from the side. Kassandra spun her hammer into the long gun, the divot's light flaring with strength. The advanced weapon snapped on impact.
Seamless, the brunette's opponent dropped the broken gun and reached around to their rear. The insurgent drew a short blade with a wide slash, saffron blazing across its edge.
There was a spray of blood.
Kassandra glanced mutely at the straight slice across her right shoulder. She only looked at it for a moment, no further reaction. The knife wielder stood in shock at the lack of response – Blades may heal quickly, but they still felt pain.
His stillness earned the trooper a hammer to the gut, driving the wind right out of him. Bringing the bludgeon up, Kassandra took it in both hands and swung the flat end into his skull.
The divot's glow intensified. Like the rifle before, the zealot's head snapped.
Silent save for breathing, Kassandra watched the grey cloak topple to the floor like a puppet without strings.
Her mask rumbled.
Kassandra turned, thrusting her hammer out behind her. She held it by the shaft's center, a plum haze wafting off the Blade weapon. Shots barraged her, the gunman blown into the pillar before now on his feet again.
The shots went wide. More accurately, they twisted and curved off target. Some flowed straight into the hammer, the glowing divot in the head turning a rusty maroon.
The weapon's dangling lengths of white wrap billowed as though in a tempest, black writing forming all across the bindings.
A jet of water swept across the shooter's jaw, spinning them down to a kneel. Kassandra reeled back, raising her hammer.
As the Blade weapon retracted, it shed its shadowy aura, the dark writing receding towards the depression in the hammer's head. This condensed into a tight sphere floating before Kassandra, the center a sluggish whirlpool of violet's and dark reds. A fast swing into the shifting orb blasted it into a rolling plume of purple/maroon mist. It quickly reached the jolted insurgent.
Shutting his eyes was pure reflex. Though his closed system defeated the purpose, the holy warrior also held his breath. The dark plume swept over him. Seeing a chance, the green eyed man who'd spent up til now curled up on the floor made a dash for cover.
When there was no reaction for a few seconds, the soldier opened his eyes, ready to resume combat.
He blinked. Then blinked again. The grunt began rapidly opening and losing his eyes.
No matter what he did, only darkness greeted him.
"M-My eye-"
The soldier had no time to process. Kassandra leaped the entire distance between herself and her target. She raised the hammer overhead, clutching the base of the handle with both hands. Her mouth remained in a straight line, not a sound escaping.
Its core burning dark crimson, the hammer crashed down. Meteoric force struck the padded grunt's shoulder, collapsing his bones down into his guts. The man was dead before he could feel the pain.
Kassandra stood over the body. She stared down at the crumpled corpse for a moment. With a rough pull, she tugged her bludgeon up onto her shoulder.
Nia ducked the bandage bound head of the weapon as she took up her fellow Blade's right arm with both hands. Her ears had gotten taller, the steel wedges perched around their bases. Her hair had grown out into its pair of long tails. She could feel Rex drawing on her sword as surely as hands being placed upon her body.
The Gormotti girl glanced at the wound on Kassandra's upper arm. "Why isn't it healing," she queried, moving a hand over the cut.
Brick/black haze formed along the edges of the slash. The dark distortion began to pull the wound closed, like a burn trail in reverse. The process was agonizingly slow. Nia blinked, then turned to Kassandra's face.
That mask stared back at her, its ruby eyes smoldering.
"… Kassandra?"
The mask quivered, scarlet orbs flashing.
Her fellow Blade twisted, her left hand snatching Nia's jumpsuit at the front. Kassandra pulled the cat girl to the ground, her head landing by the brunette's feet. Nia immediately hoisted her front up on both hands, thoughts sliding back and forth between a verbal or physical retaliation.
Kassandra kept turning. Her right hand, wielding the hammer swung up. As the bandaged Blade crouched over Nia, the Gormotti girl saw a distant figure through her legs. She could make out the familiar outline of a white/gold rifle just as the beam roared towards them.
Like before, the beam curved around the bound bludgeon and its wielder. The hammer's gap glowed dark red, the glyphs and characters again forming along the weapon's bindings, the loose strands billowing.
Kassandra stared hard at the recovered squad leader, her hood knocked back revealing blonde hair in a tight bun. The short barrel of her carbine blazed bright amber as the ray of heat continued. She held the weapon in one hand, her left hand, the cords binding that arm shining with golden brilliance.
A second charge joined the first. Coming from an off angle, the shot took Kassandra across her right shoulder and the back of her neck. She quickly shifted her "barrier," the second beam instantly twisting to a severe degree. Nia drew her legs in as the bent ray lashed against the nearby floorboards.
Slit Left bellowed like a mad animal as he stalked forth through a row of abandoned stands, his piercing laser bursting through any structure in its path. Kassandra focused her gaze on him. She missed the female leader lobbing a pill shaped canister towards the two Blades.
Nia heard the thing clack off the deck. She caught sight of the canister as it popped open around the middle, its metallic surface and parted innards flooding with yellow light.
'Gren-'
She didn't even have time to form the thought. Her palm shot forward on pure reflex, a bubble of hexagons just starting to form. Nia's core crystal shined. Slit Left cut off his barrage, raising his cloak.
The grenade blast was bigger than the explosion from the pipe network. The force tore through Kassandra's defense and Nia's ether barrier. As she was flung through the air, the Gormotti girl's body was consumed in pearlescent light.
Nia landed, stance wide and sliding backwards at speed. Her left arm was reaching down, fingers wrapped around the handle of a bladed ring. The circular edge, glowing blue, dragged across the floor leaving a long trench in its wake. Her right hand, raised out and away, held the weapon's twin.
As she ground to a halt, Nia popped up into a short stumble. It was always weird when she gained that extra bit of height.
Gone was her banana yellow outfit, replaced with off-white lengths of flowing fabric. A robe like garb, trimmed in thick, crossing patterns of gold, covered her torso up to her chest. Its base flared out in two, diamond shaped wings along her thighs, revealing the inner lining in patterns of red and black, separated by curving bands of gold. Beneath this was a dark leotard, the upper edge reaching past the pale top and properly covering her modest bust.
Her rose tinted core, fully on display, blinked rapidly on her chest.
Banishing one of her rings, Nia clutched a white gloved hand over her flashing gem. Her pale grey sleeves, the fabric starting just above her elbows, flapped at the harsh motion. The cuffs were extended and opened impossibly wide, showing the inner lining to have the same patterns as the robe.
Nia's breathing was rushed, her vision fading in and out of focus. She was still feeling the effects from hours ago. She'd been trying her best to take it easy, allow herself time to recover. But this wasn't the sort of strain a lazy afternoon could fix. And her current situation really wouldn't accommodate her.
"Dammit," she couldn't help but swear. Heat now choked the area, flickering flames and drifting smoke filling the blurred world in front of her. With the size of that blast from before, it was no wonder the fires were going out of control. It still did her breathing no favors.
The remaining ring grew luminous, its cerulean shine steadying the glow of her own core. Nia grinned, feeling Dromarch's strength through the bond. A slight improvement, but it would do.
Idly, the cat eared Blade ran her fingers down her left leg, tracing the white surface of her long stockings. She felt the belt of kunai still wrapped around her thigh, a small bit of confidence restored.
Her sight was clearing. Against the flames, she could make out shadows. One lithe figure with crimson eyes and a large hammer. Another was in pursuit, its caped form flowing with blazing trails of saffron. The two vanished into the smoke, moving left.
Nia stepped up to intercept, her thigh high leggings shifting together in passing. The pair of scarlet boots she wore sounded heavy stomps with every step. A pair of long, golden spikes, one rising up from either toe, completed the intimidating footwear.
She was already summoning her second ring back into her grasp. That was her single saving grace as the spark tipped rod descended upon her.
Her left hand blade clashed with the white metal pole. Slit Left's arms and upper torso surged with lines of yellow, his weapon flowing with the same energy all the way to its twin barbed tip.
The invader pressed forward, his system of lines flaring brighter. Nia lost her footing and threw her right blade up towards his neck. Her assailant shot in closer, crushing his forehead into the bridge of her nose.
Nia went reeling, a few clumsy footfalls before a stabbing pain caught her in the lower back. Static sieged her body, locking joints and tearing an agonized scream from her throat.
The pain receded. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Nia tumbled forward. She only just caught herself on the rounded edge of one of her weapons, barely holding herself in a low kneel.
Slit Left's boot swung into her right side. The tremendous force launched her several meters, her back skipping over the front counter of a modest, woodworks shop. As she flew into the employee space she lost grip on one of her chakrams, the circular blade crumbling into a cloud of ether.
She hit the ground on her left side before rolling a short distance. She crashed into the hard base of a massive carving of a nopon, staring upwards at the store's tarp covering and watching wisps of smoke drift through the air. The sound of someone vaulting over the service desk and stomping towards her vaguely registered above the numerous aches wracking her body. Her core pulsed weakly.
Stabbing pain and a rending shock again took hold of her. A high pitched, breathless wail was all she could offer in response to the assault.
"Feral trash," spat her tormentor, drawing back his shock stick to get another kick at Nia's ribcage. The Gormotti Blade coughed up a streak of saliva and bile. Slit Left readied his pronged baton once more.
Nia lashed out with her remaining ring, batting the stun rod up and away. Her opponent staggered, thrown off by the sudden show of strength, allowing Nia to scramble into the back wall of the stall. As her attacker began to advance, she shot a blast of water at his front. Her core was oddly cold.
The insurgent guarded with his cloak, its shining wards deflecting the elemental attack. Nia threw herself to her feet, one palm bracing her weight against the side of the nopon statue as the other shakily held her chakram towards her assailant.
"Why are you struggling?"
Slit Left closed the distance, striking down with his shock stick. Nia knocked the blow away, toppling the large carving as she strafed away. Slit Left merely side stepped the falling woodwork, moving quickly after her.
"Isn't it difficult?"
He jousted at her stomach, swinging at her side when his strike missed. Nia formed her second ring as she spun away from the sparking rod. She stopped awkwardly, stumbling into a more ready stance. Her breathing refused to calm.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
His pipework rig flooded with light. Slit Left was on her in an instant, trading speedy blows without a hint of effort. Nia met the first two strikes before being forced to flee, backing swiftly as she ducked, juked, and scrambled away.
"You are unneeded," he slashed at her middle, Nia jumping away.
"You are unwanted," the zealot charged in with a straight punch to the gut. Nia sailed backwards, through a couple of display frames lined with knick-knacks, slamming into the front counter with enough force to crack the wood. As she sunk to her rear, Slit Left stalked forward.
"You are abhorrent," growled the holy warrior, stabbing down towards her core crystal. Nia dropped her weapons, both palms clamping onto the shaft of the stun rod. She barely had the strength to hold him back.
Then the trooper's network flared orange. In contrast, Nia's crystal flickered weakly, its color staying cool. Slowly, the twin prongs, leaping with static, began to lower.
Though she couldn't see his mouth, the Gormotti girl could feel Slit Left's euphoric grin through his quaking gaze.
"Surrender," the man spoke in a hoarse whisper, "your death is the will of the world. Balance is sacred. You are not meant to be."
The shock stick's downward progress stopped. Her crystal struggling to glow, Nia clenched her teeth and shored her grip. "You don't tell me… what I am."
"Your actions say enough, murderer," he yelled the last part, overtaking the roar of flames steadily taking over the wood laden store. His binding cables shined near red, the lines of energy thickening. He leaned in close.
"Man eater…"
His good eye trailed up and down her matured form.
"… plaything."
Nia seethed, "Disgusting bastard, you don't kno-"
"We'll get your friends too," Slit Left rasped, concentrating on driving his weapon down. Electric streaks were jumping from the prongs to the girl's crystal, the shocking barbs hovering just above her gem.
Airily, more musing to himself than anything, he continued, "That one horned titan, that freakish Blade, your pet cat…" What Nia could see of her foe's expression turned malicious.
"That heretical, walking meat stick you chase after."
Nia's features turned hollow. The cool that she felt in her core had spread through her whole being.
Slit Left mistook what he was seeing. He was too busy basking in his own righteousness to notice the building glow on his victim's chest.
"It won't be quick. Examples have to be made, precedents set. But you can rest assured… you won't be going to The Abyss alone-"
The stun rod shot forward. So quickly it took Slit Left utterly by surprise. Nia ducked aside as she dragged the barbed head into the counter, spearing it into the wood. With deft skill she slipped one of her daggers from her belt, the blackened steel flashing as she thrust it towards the fanatic.
She was aiming for his throat. She caught the cable leading to the re-breather instead. There was a bright burst, arcs of crackling voltage launching from the severed ends and streaking across the zealot's torso. Slit Left spat out his mouthpiece, pained gasps rushing from his opened maw.
Those gave way to a tormented whine when Nia drove the dark blade down into his shoulder. Even through his padded armor, the knife sunk in all the way to the handle.
Nia's crystal shined a steady, brilliant fuchsia.
Their stances were reversed, the cat eared Blade standing as she forced the trooper to his knees. Her right hand held the embedded kunai, so her left rocked his face with the first jab. To Slit Left's credit, it took Nia three strikes before she gave him a crushed nose to match her own.
Thinking on that, Nia loosened her grip before driving a knee into the insurgent's face. As the man fell to the floor Nia reached up to take hold of her crooked nose. Her natural regeneration on top of her status as both a healing and a water Blade had already staunched the bleeding. But physical correction had to be done on a conscious level.
Nia jerked her nose back into position. There was a tight groan and a moment of pause, but the Gormotti girl showed little else in the way of reaction. Her features were still shockingly calm. The fire that had started on the shop was now halfway through the canvas top, lighting the interior in flickering hues of orange.
Shakily at first, Nia pivoted, stepping towards the front of the woodworks.
"… ver… stop."
Her left ear flinched. Nia turned her head back to the prone invader. He spoke through bloodied gums, his face a mess of red. A black bruise sat over his right eye, the fragile organ now as ruined as its twin. He "stared" up at the shops awning, embers flaking down upon his legs.
"find you… ing – 'im… kill… ou. Never sto-"
Nia fisted up the front of his padded suit. She drew him off the floor, just enough to raise his upper body some.
She had one of her chakrams. The curved edge of the blade shined with particular wrath. Nia's own face was a mask of infinite hatred.
As before, she railed her arm forwards in a powerful straight. The sharpened ring carved some way into his face. She pulled back and fired a second strike before he had the chance to scream. Shot number three tore through his already destroyed eyes and nose.
Number four slammed home in the zealot's shrieking mouth. The things that came from it were tiresome anyway.
Nia lost count after the eighth hit. She kept going until her arm burned, til her breathing was so rushed it wasn't reaching her lungs. When she was forced to pause, she took in her handiwork. The mess staring back at her could be identified as a human head only by its loose connection to a human body.
Just ground meat and shards of bone…
The cat girl dropped the body, rising to her feet. Her face had gone hollow again, her gaze unwavering.
She didn't feel the least bit satisfied. She didn't really feel anything at the moment. Her rosy core burned low.
Nia pivoted and resumed her path to the front of the stand. Her pale garb was marred in streaks of blood. The mess of crimson flowed down and off of her garments, like water across glass. As she vaulted the counter, her outfit was already near pristine. Her hand reached towards her face, gloved palm glowing teal. One pass was all it took to wipe the dash of blood off her right cheek.
Behind, the shop's canvas top was completely consumed by flames. The whole thing collapsed in on itself seconds after her departure.
Let's start with some minor things…
I love the idea of Bana just keeping a literal hand-cannon behind his desk. If anyone in this setting was gonna compensate so blatantly, it would be the illustrious chairman. I'd always liked the idea too that Bana's personal aids also serve as his bodyguards. If you didn't get that vibe from their mannerisms last chapter then the fact that they're packing concealed weapons should spell things out pretty clearly.
Additional note: one of those secretaries is Harghal, the girl who features in Godfrey's Blade Quest. Just a detail that'll maybe come back later.
Perdido is a character with a really cool concept that just cannot be explored within the context of the game proper. Pretty sure he makes a direct statement that the various weapons he wields are ones he personally collected and considering how Patroka's apparent job in Torna is to hunt down Drivers, it just makes sense to say that he got his armament from fallen Blade opponents… somehow.
What that basically means is that I have an excuse for Perdido and Patroka to just use a mass variety of arms (heh, "arms") whenever they appear. For fun, I plan to throw in a lot of weapons from other media, so y'all can make a game of identifying them. I'll give you guys this chapter's examples as a freebie: the monstrous morning star is based on Kokoa's from Rosario Vampire, the golden trident is King Triton's from Disney's The Little Mermaid, and the heater shield/sword combo is in reference to RWBY's Jaune Arc.
Can't help but picture Patroka and Perdido fighting Blade variants of these characters now…
Let's go a bit more in depth regarding the grey cloaks. Or, as they have named themselves, The Benevolence. Yes, a naming scheme rght up there with the likes of Los Illumindos.
This cult is a group splintered off from the "proper" faith of the Praetorium. The ultimate problem was that The Benevolence put their belief in the "Architect's Order" ahead of the words of the Prator himself, a pretty big no-no for a man trying to operate with some degree of subtlety. As Saturn blatantly implies, the relationship between the two groups is beyond strained.
In canon, we see Nia being pursued by Indoline monks specifically for the "crime" of being a Flesh Eater, her, Patroka, and Akhos having been imprisoned – likely destined for a dinner date with Amalthus – for this very reason. It's clear that the major religion of the Praetorium denounces these half-Blades and from Morag's tone when she finds out most of Torna themselves are Flesh Eaters, it seems to be a wide spread notion.
The Benevolence see themselves as inquisitors, "purging" the world of the abominable and the unfaithful. They do not compromise, they see those who go against their doctrine as evil, and they feel that evil deserves no mercy. The acts they carry out are brutal and depraved, but paying wrath onto the loathsome is the duty of the pious, not warranting of question. As Saturn himself puts it, "You're the bad guys, that's the way it is."
The fact that Rex's group were responsible for a particularly painful death amongst their ranks has only served to fan the flames. Now this is a personal matter on top of being a holy creed, at least by the story Saturn tells.
The tech they utilize is a mysterious thing for this world, their rig systems pumping their bodies with a strange energy that Blades can sense but find foreign and strange. One has to imagine that I can't be safe having the same juice that powers your blaster guns flowing through your veins, not even counting that you'll turn into a human grenade if the system overloads. But for a group who so readily throw their lives away for "The Cause,"it's more than adequate.
And there's a shocking lack of Drivers in their ranks thus far…
Let's talk Kassandra again.
Between her Heart to Heart at the Cliffs of Morytha and the animations of her level three special, it's canon that Kassandra goes into a sort of "Berserk State" when combat starts to ramp up. Kassandra has some priestess vibes in her overall theme, but a greater part of that leans towards an Egyptian mummy aesthetic. One of my biggest take aways from that Brandon Fraser movie all those years back was just how relentless Imhotep was as a monster. Between that and the fact that he literally summoned the plagues in his wake, I had a lot of inspiration.
This is Kassandra's berserk state. Once she dons that mask, she becomes this unfeeling engine of chaotic entropy that delivers unflinching doom upon her enemies. She turns the very wrath of her foe's weapons against them, has no reaction to pain, and obliterates anything that rests before her hammer swings. If we could compare our hero lineup to The Avengers, Kassandra is The Hulk of the group.
I've got more to say on power sets, but I'll save that for next time.
Nia…
We're never given a solid timeline for how long Nia and Dromarch were on their own, being pursued by the Praetorium and any other such ventures. Nia has been through a lot in her present (and now final) lifetime, even before becoming a Flesh Eater. Meeting Rex was a dawning light in her existence, the promise of sunrise on the horizon. But her past demons refuse to let things be, now drawing in the very people who dragged her out of the darkness…
Nia's not afraid to pay brutality onto brutality, ironically mirroring her tormentors to a degree. She's always been a survivor, cast against the world by the very nature of her being. And surviving often leads one to some dark places, the kind of actions that effectively "stain" the soul.
The long and short of it: don't fuck with Nia's people. She's not Rex, she's not The Hero. She keeps her precious people close and Hell have those who endanger their livelihood. You wouldn't shoot John Wick's dog… pay the same respect here.
Coming up: The Siege of Argentum gets properly underway.