"All joking aside—maybe I've made mistakes. Maybe some more recently than others.
Hard to believe, I know, but maybe it's true. Maybe.
Here's the thing about mistakes: you learn from them.
Again, this is assuming the theoretical concept of me having made some mistakes is true.
So, yeah, maybe that's what I'm doing.
Trying to learn from these very hypothetical slipups.
Turning inward, they call it."
—The man they called Cayde
7. The Arrival
Quartz had longed for a warm breeze in the clear sunlight.
The shades of summer in eastern Siracusa would be quite nice this time of year. A nice change of scenery, at least.
But this was no time for daydreaming. Her work matters first. There are lives to save.
Had this trip been uneventful, they might've been on their way back to Rhodes Island by now.
But of course, things are never that simple.
"What do you mean, they're coming back?"
Her fellow Lupo Provence queried, the true weight of the situation not yet sinking in.
Quartz rubbed her forehead, finding it difficult to register her own words.
"These… Fallen, apparently the Ursus patrols just intercepted one of their valuable supply deliveries. And according to Mr. Faris, they know our location and will do anything to get them back. Our best chance is to stand our ground here before they could ambush us."
The Forte among them, Vulcan, stood forward. "So if we do so, we would be better prepared to fend them off?"
Quartz nodded. "And maybe we'll find more information about our missing personnel as well."
'If they're still alive.' She kept that thought to herself. Her nihilism would be of little help right now.
"But why wait here? We're in the middle of unfamiliar territory." Provence asked.
Quartz's expression became more grim. "He said that we would be leaving ourselves exposed if we keep driving without a proper defense. Apparently, we can't outrun them."
Provence laid herself against the side of one of their trucks, her canine ears drooping low in contemplation.
"Do you think… that doctor knows way more than he's letting on?"
Quartz, Ambriel, and Vulcan all glanced at each other, already knowing the answer.
"… Yes."
"Well, duh."
"Absolutely."
Quartz rubbed her forehead again. Of course they have mountains of questions to ask him, but would they even have the time?
"Regardless, he knows the most about this, so I think we should stick with what he's said for now." She surmised.
"One question." Ambriel lifted up her hand. "Is he going to fight with us?"
"He insist-"
"I insist." Faris interjected behind them.
His arrival came to the surprise of everyone yet again. They could not even notice him coming up to them.
Quartz was beginning to suspect if he could simply appear out of thin air. "H-How do you keep doing that?"
"Apologies if I keep surprising you." He replied calmly.
She lowered her eyebrows. He still hasn't said anything about how he did it. But before she could ask, Provence stepped in with a different question in mind.
"Wait a minute… we don't even know what these 'Fallen' are capable of. We've never seen them." She remarked.
It was true. They have no prior experience in tackling this unseen enemy. The remnants of the Ursus Patrol Unit currently with them seemed to have a general idea. But obviously, no one from Rhodes Island has bothered to get close enough to ask, or to form any decent conversation.
"I have." Faris assured them. "I'm fairly knowledgeable in their capabilities, and their tactics. I'll inform you and the rest while we still have time."
There was uncertainty in his voice. After all, it had been years since he had last encountered them. These Fallen might as well be quite different than the ones he'd fought before. He hoped it wouldn't be the case.
He walked forward to the center of the group, carefully giving each of them an acknowledging look.
"I should remind you, if any of you feel unprepared for this… there is nothing wrong with turning back and evacuating this place, along with any non-combatants in your convoy."
Ambriel scoffed at the proposal. "Come on now, we're not amateurs."
But it wasn't meant to be an insult. It was a warning.
Unbeknownst to the rest of them, Faris was aware that, out of everyone currently present, if anything were to go horribly wrong… he might be the only one who could walk out.
"I understand that you're all capable of fighting. It's simply that… the circumstances here are different. I'd much rather avoid taking as many risks as we could."
Vulcan became curious with his statement. "And how do you plan on doing that? Fighting them all by yourself? I thought you're a doctor."
She had seen said doctor be armed, with a rather formidable-looking weapon, in fact. But still, he was just one man. She could never expect him to somehow handle this matter all on his own.
"It is… complicated. And I'm not certain we have time for me to explain it all. But rest assured, I'm quite capable of handling this on my own with my abilities. But I will not force anyone to turn back if they wish to lend a hand." Faris explained, still as vaguely as he could.
"You're an Arts caster?" Provence queried, curious about the "abilities" he had hidden so far.
Ambriel gestured to the doctor. "I mean, he's gotta be. Haven't you seen his gun?"
It would be a logical assumption. It's simply unfeasible for the stoic doctor to wield a firearm otherwise. Non-Sankta wielding firearms of any kind are an uncommon sight for various reasons, chief among them being the high degree of skill required in performing precise Arts activation for them to even function as intended.
"… In a way, yes." Faris carefully replied. It wasn't time for them to be explained the truth yet, he thought.
The operators were still not buying into his words. Vulcan voiced as such. "And you're that confident you can handle this threat on your own, that you want the rest of us to just leave you to it?"
He raised an open palm. "It's not a matter of confidence. It's a matter of caution. No one here should have to risk their lives for a fight with an enemy they've never even met."
Quartz crossed her arms. "Then explain it to us. Tell us what exactly we're facing here."
"And you should know doc, we get the risks. That's why we're here." Ambriel shrugged as she declared to him.
He considered for a moment, whether he could place his trust on the capabilities Rhodes Island towards handling this threat. He had seen much of what the natives of Terra are capable of, certainly far beyond regular humans, both in terms of physical resilience, and even in their unique usage of Arts. Valuable advantages to be had, for sure.
But none of them can simply defy death. Not to his knowledge, anyway.
"Very well." He took a long breath, then continued. "You should know that these Fallen we are about to face, they are unlike anything you've faced. Everything else I'm about to disclose, it would be a little… difficult to comprehend. But bear with me, it's the truth."
He gazed once more into the eyes of each operator present around him. "So, are you prepared to hear it?"
Ambriel raised her eyebrows, suddenly pulling out the candy stick from her mouth.
"It's aliens, isn't it?"
"… Huh?"
The Sankta's teammates turned towards her, befuddled.
"I mean, all this vague secrecy, with an enemy using weird weapons and some strange tech we don't understand, and I overheard some of those Ursus patrols talking about the ones they faced having four arms… putting them all together, kinda sounds like an alien conspiracy to me."
It took them nearly a full minute to figure out what to say next.
Provence, finally broken from her stupor, was the first to speak. "Aliens? Like from outer space? Like… up there?"
"Did you get that from a comic book? That's ridiculous." Quartz shot the Sankta down.
Ambriel gave her a stink eye. "Hey, they're your comics." Which was only partially true, but such a small error is irrelevant.
"It's still ridiculous." She reaffirmed, right before looking back towards Faris for approval.
Whom had remained silent for the entire duration. Which was alarming to her.
"Wait, it is… right?"
It took them ages to accept the Stoic's truth. From their perspectives at least.
It was harder to accept that the Sankta operator with a sweet tooth and a tendency to laze around, actually got it right the first time.
An answer that sounded ridiculous, but considering their current situation, becoming less and less so.
Extraterrestrials from another world, possessing advanced technology without the use of Originium? Despite all the things she's seen, it was still an unbelievable prospect.
But the doctor has no reason to lie. Quartz knows it. Not if they're about to find out the truth for themselves very soon.
After the operators' own brief summary, came the arduous task of having to explain the same exposition to the rest of their present personnel, whom of course displayed the same bewildered expressions as they did the first time hearing about it. But no one was in for an argument, as cooperation is currently the best, and fastest course of action.
As for the Ursus patrols themselves… a first-hand experience was more than enough.
Then came the next step of having to come up with an actual plan, before the looming extraterrestrial threat would arrive. And how either side was going to somehow work together without going at each other's throats until the coast is deemed clear.
As of now, the best arrangement for both Rhodes Island and the Ursus patrols involved not being in the same designated positions together, unless necessary.
"So… I guess we're doing this." She reassured herself and her fellow operators.
"I'll do another check on all of our weapons and supplies." Said Vulcan, her hammer and shield already in hand.
"I'll go scout the surroundings for anything we might miss. Hopefully the weather doesn't get worse." Said Provence, lightly brushing off the clumps of snow on her unusually large tail.
"I'll get to a vantage point, look for… I don't know, flying saucers, I guess?" Ambriel shrugged as she slowly made her way towards higher ground.
Quartz nodded towards them. "I'll evacuate some of our field personnel to the safe zones."
Splitting up, they dedicated their attention to their assigned roles.
The denser trees in this part of the forest provided more cover for defensive positions. Those unfit for combat such as field medics and engineers would be moved somewhere far away from the area where the action would be most expected to occur.
As she signaled for them to get inside their vehicles, she came across the sight of the Stoic, lending assistance by showing directions to the drivers.
As if telepathically realizing her staring at him, he immediately turned and walked towards her direction, before finally facing her.
"I'm sure all of this sounds… implausible to you. Frankly, I'm surprised everyone else is so willing to listen." He remarked.
She put one hand on her hip. "I'm a little surprised as well. But, I want to believe you're telling the truth about everything."
That, and there was no denying the reactions from the remaining Ursus patrolmen when they were informed of the impending Fallen assault. She saw the fear and the anger in their eyes. It was authentic.
In the midst of the sudden quiet, she thought to pry further.
"What exactly did you do… before you became a traveling doctor? Before 5 years ago?"
She waited for the silence to pass, eager to see if he would continue to speak the truth, or to hide it instead.
Eventually, he spoke. "I am… older than you think. I have done many things. Some I've come to regret. Others I wished I could've done more of. But all that time has gifted me with experience I now deem priceless."
She took a moment to lean against a nearby pine tree, her mind set on figuring out the enigmatic doctor.
"Your hands aren't clean… am I right?" She presumed.
Faris considered on his next lines. He would rather not be deceitful. Not when it might not matter soon.
"If you mean I've used my rifle for self-defense, then yes. If you're trying to say I have dedicated portions of my life towards violence as an occupation…"
As he trailed off, Quartz thought the worst, and sought to ease the tension. "I'm… not trying to accuse you of anything-"
"Then you're also correct."
Her uncovered eye was broadened. She clearly wasn't expecting him to be so upfront.
"I lived during a time of strife. Where people fought for themselves, sometimes against their own kind. To kill for something as necessary as food, or something as trivial as territory, was a common sight.
And even as those times were long gone, taking up arms was still a necessity. But with a newfound purpose to protect those who couldn't do so themselves. Now… I would rather use my gifts to heal those who need it, than to hurt those who deserve it."
The doctor paused for a few moments, waiting for a response. But Quartz said nothing, clearly with a lot on her mind. He didn't expect her to understand completely.
Eventually, he spoke again. "If you're judging my character right now, I understand."
She shook her head. "No, it's not that."
She briefly glanced down, reaching for something in her pocket. "It's just that… I guess we both at least got something in common now."
He was quick to figure out her implication.
"Ah… you were not always part of Rhodes Island, I assume?" Given their reputation to accept practically anyone, it was natural to assume not every operator recruited into Rhodes Island's paramilitary branch would have come from stable backgrounds.
Quartz ran a thumb across her fingernails, contemplating on her next words.
"I was recruited as a combat operator less than a hear ago. Before that, well, I never stayed in one place for too long. And as for the money… mercenary work paid well enough."
She had never taken on any jobs that she would deem too immoral or risky, only ones which could be completed without having to draw a blade. But still, there were times where her sword had seen blood on its blade regardless.
Yet contrary to her expectations, Faris reassured her that he would not see her differently.
"I will not question your conscience, Ms. Quartz. What matters is not who you were, but who you are now. You chose to be employed at Rhodes Island. Surely, you believe enough in their ideals to do so?"
She didn't stare into his faceless helmet for long before looking back down. "Maybe I'm just tired of doing something for the sake of getting paid."
The doctor paused to ponder on his next question. Even in these moments, he was surprised to find that he was as much interested in figuring out the Lupo, as she was doing the same to him.
"If you do not mind, might I ask, what made you care for the Infected?"
She looked up to meet his faceless gaze. "They're still people, aren't they?"
He wasn't arguing otherwise. But as he had come to learn himself, there is a deeper purpose to everything. "Is that your only reason?"
It was her turn to pause.
Her raised hand clutched towards nothing. Perhaps it was only fair. She had divulged into his past, after all.
"I… knew someone. From one of the remote towns west of here. The town was mostly Infected, but it didn't stop them from trying to lead peaceful lives. She took me in for a while… when I had nowhere else to go."
Though she was an outsider in every sense of the word, her past did not bother that woman one bit. All that mattered, was that she was someone in need of a place to stay, as she was trying to figure out her next path.
"So, you deem it fitting if you could try to repay that debt, by fighting for those like them?" The doctor surmised. "That is an honorable path to choose."
Her fist softened as she returned his gaze. A nearly imperceptible smile in the corner of her mouth.
"I guess… I wanted to do something good for someone else, for a change."
The doctor said nothing else in response, save for a silent nod of acknowledgement.
Feeling the sudden awkwardness that came with the silence, she decided to pry further into a more relevant topic.
"How long ago have you encountered this Fallen enemy? And… are they the only ones we should be worried about?" She asked.
"It is… very complicated to explain." He deflected once again. Just as she was having some progress.
"Not that I'm trying to hide the truth from you, but I worry we simply don't have the time for me to reveal everything about my past. The Fallen may arrive at any moment soon."
There was a noticeable frown on her face. But she wasn't going to refute his statement. "Fine. I'll get going."
"So will I."
It was time for them to assume their positions, and brace the impending assault, with only their limited knowledge as their safeguard.
Right as she walked past him, she stopped. To turn back to him one last time.
"Just, try not to die, alright? I'll be back for our conversation."
Her tone was surprisingly softer than before. To which, he responded in kind.
"Thank you for your concern, Ms. Quartz. And please, take care of yourself."
Of course, it wasn't him simply being nice.
No matter how much he could inform them of the enemy beforehand, they will never be fully prepared for a first-hand encounter.
Against an enemy that is not of this world.
At the top of a small snow-capped hill, stood a bored Sankta, regretful over the fact that she didn't bring enough chocolate sticks.
Her only way of passing the time is by lazily eyeing the alert Stoic beside her. She decided to accompany the doctor, as the best, or possibly second best, marksman around.
Ambriel exhaled, loud enough to be noticed. "So… what exactly are we looking for again?"
"Distortions." Faris stated, his eyes glued to the clouds above.
"You said they have invisibility tech or something. But without Arts? Kinda find that hard to believe, honestly."
If that's not the work of some deeply classified Columbian scientific experiment, then her only other assumption is alien technology. But if they were that advanced, then trying to spot one wouldn't be possible to begin with, right?
The doctor continued to scan the skies. "Yes, but not completely undetectable. There are visible signs if one is perceptive enough. A slight refraction of visible light along the surface could reveal the silhouette."
"Yeah. Sure."
What more can she say? Taking his words at face value, as preposterous as it sounded, seemed like their best course of action.
Still thinking about passing the time, Ambriel thought to change the subject towards something she could take a better interest in.
Now having a better view without interruption, she took note of the large-caliber sniper rifle in the stoic doctor's hands.
A fine blend of what seemed like steel alloys and engraved gold, serving a clean yet tasteful aesthetic. Certainly more sophisticated than her own antique weapon.
She could already imagine what Vulcan would say regarding a few of its features.
'Engravings give you no tactical advantage whatsoever.'
Still, it looks pleasing to the eye. And she was in no position to criticize.
"Let me guess, custom-made?" She cheekily asked.
To her mild surprise, the doctor actually shifted his focus away and turned towards her, before glancing at his weapon.
"Yes, actually. It was a successful joint effort between myself and two other acquaintances."
Though they may have gone their separate ways, he always wished Uzoma Vale and Taeko-3 the best in their endeavors. He wondered where they would be right now.
That was not all Ambriel was curious about. "Not a lot of people can use a gun. Where'd you learn it? You don't look like me so I'm guessing it doesn't come naturally."
She wasn't the only one who have noticed the lack of a halo or wings on his person, which makes his apparent proficiency with firearms more intriguing.
But he remained silent, longer than she was expecting.
Faris contemplated his decision once more. Was there even a point in hiding it anymore?
He had learnt of the strange case of firearms in this world. As advanced as the civilizations in Terra seems to be, in some ways they were still quite outdated in their methods. Guns, for example, are a rare commodity, and mostly heavily regulated and monopolized by the nation of Laterano.
Even the way they function is unlike what he was used to. They function more like paracausal staves, with additional mechanisms combined together to allow them to work as rapid-firing spellcasters. Traditional propellants may as well be a fantasy.
Firearms imbued with paracausal power was not new to him. There was a weapon that brought many final deaths to too many Lightbearers, and even the Lightless. It was, hopefully, one of its kind.
But a firearm that explicitly required paracausal power to even function? Unheard of. Yet, that is the norm here.
"You must be thinking that my rifle functions similar to yours, or like any other firearm produced in Laterano. That is an understandable misconception. I have opted to keep the nature of most of my equipment secret until now."
The Sankta beside him shifted her expression. "What? It doesn't?"
"Some of the technology is a little complicated to explain, but as for the base mechanism…"
Perhaps he should simply disclose it. After all, he knew it still wouldn't be the second most unexpected reveal for the others here.
"It does not require Arts to fire this gun."
If the Sankta had sweets in between her teeth right now, it would've embraced the dampness of the ground already.
"Bullshit."
He ignored her doubtful stare and returned his attention to the skies, knowing that her disbelief would eventually come to an end.
"That might sound quite unthinkable from your perspective, I imagine. But… as we are about to find out, so many unthinkable things are happening today."
She was going to say something, but her voice was halted by the doctor suddenly raising a closed fist.
She didn't question it, having realized he has spotted something she hasn't.
Visual distortions moving across the stratus clouds.
"They're here."
Ambriel's eyes widened. "Huh? Seriously?"
"Listen."
She did as the Stoic told. A faint rumbling could be heard from the clouds. Almost imperceptible, but it was there.
Faris grabbed a transceiver from his belt, given to him by one of the RI personnel, and switched to the right frequency.
"Everyone, listen. The Fallen has arrived. Soon, their ship will become visible. Remain at your formations."
Their plan was mostly simple, involving three groups at three different formations. The captured Hauler is the priority target for the Fallen, being placed in the middle of a fairly open field surrounded by the rest of the forest, where most of the Ursus patrols' melee fighters, along with one of RI's operators, are positioned.
Formation A is composed of operators and patrols who would stick near the Fallen Hauler. Considering the extreme value of the cargo, they summarized that the Fallen would not risk blindly opening fire from above or with ranged weapons with their armed Skiffs, out of fear of damaging the precious Ether seeds.
Formation B would be the ones sticking to better cover among the tall trees surrounding the open space. They will provide ranged support and suppressive fire for formation A.
Formation C would be Faris himself and Ambriel, as they were the only ones with the appropriate capacity to engage the enemy at a longer range. Situated over 150 yards away, is the hill they were currently on, tall enough to provide a vantage point.
There is a distinct feeling in his gut telling him that this plan will not go as smoothly as envisioned, but he kept it buried. He has learned to improvise before.
He stood guard, lining an opening shot with his Zen Meteor. Ambriel needed no instructions, kneeling down with her rifle raised. Though she was still unsure of what she should be aiming at.
"Can you handle it from this range?" The doctor asked.
Ambriel began to fiddle with her scope. "Won't be an issue, but… are we gonna try and shoot those ships down ourselves?"
"If it comes to that, leave it to me." He responded, leaving her no room to wonder how he could make it happen.
A roar almost like thunder echoed across the sky. The cloaked Skiff hovered across the open plains, before slowly revealing itself in plain view.
"Holy shit… is that…?"
It was certainly not a flying saucer.
Ambriel wasn't sure exactly what she was aiming at.
Quartz could not fathom what she was looking at.
Vulcan stood by her, unable to even form a word to say, but her shield was already raised.
"What the hell is that!?" Shouted one of the patrol guards. Many more yells and curses follow, but she instinctively tuned them out.
The design of the Fallen ship was unrecognizable. It looked like a type of insect made of metal. But there was a lack of wings, or anything to support its flight other than the propulsion engines on its sides.
The ship slowly lowered itself closer to ground, yet still very much out of reach. Underneath it, two rows of circular exits were occupied, by none other than the enigmatic Fallen.
And as they promptly turned to face their enemies waiting below, blades and spears ready, her eyes did not deceive her.
Six glowing eyes, three on each side of their faces. And four arms. They are not native to Terra. That much was obvious.
A band of six Vandals and two Captains, adorned in winter cloaks, dropped onto the pale ground.
Her greatsword was already drawn.
"Kas pak sha!"
One of the larger Fallen roared, its words understood by no one. Their meanings weren't important. The intent was clear.
They marched quickly across the snow, electrified blades aiming for the throats of the thieves whom have stolen their precious resource.
One of them, a Vandal with a long electrified spear, soared to the air with its spear reeled back, eager to burn some flesh.
Quartz was faster.
Slash
Sidestepping the Fallen's lunge, her sword broke through its armor with a heavy swing, delivering a fatal blow to its abdomen.
She didn't have time to acknowledge what was likely her first kill of an extraterrestrial invader.
Her head instinctively moved to the side, barely missing a thrown blade. A few strands of her hair was singed away.
'Their weapons are coated with a thin field of plasma, making them extremely efficient at cutting things apart with extreme heat.'
Those were the Stoic's warnings, as she recalled it. In other words, direct contact with them is most likely certain death.
The second Fallen moved quickly with its remaining weapon to rush her, before getting hit and thrown meters away by a huge slab of metal, courtesy of Vulcan.
The downed Vandal regained its footing quickly, but not quick enough to foresee the heavy blade of a greatsword slamming downwards to its skull.
Crack
A small shockwave formed as the Fallen's helmet broke apart, its bloodied head buried into the snow.
Quartz took a deep breath and exhaled, giving her fellow Forte a quick nod, before glancing sideways. The other four Fallen troops were busy engaging with the Ursus patrols, whom seem to be doing well enough to repel them. Undoubtedly a result of prior experience.
But the remaining two Captains, along with the floating Servitor behind them, stayed behind and waited. As more of their troops appeared underneath the Skiff.
Six more Vandals prepared to join their struggling brethren. And along with the four-armed troops, also accompanied two large floating metallic spheres, its "face" resembling a singular eye. Servitors.
But as they were about to drop off of their Skiff…
Bang
Bang
Unusual blood sprayed from two of the Fallen, their bodies falling off of the Skiff without a proper landing.
The Lupo nearly forgot that Faris and Ambriel were watching over them from a higher ground, and their rifles certainly did their work.
The rest of the remaining Fallen dropped safely onto the freezing ground as their Skiff flew away, but they didn't have time to mourn their fallen comrades, as they were suddenly greeted by a hail of crossbow bolts and arrows originating from between the trees, from all sides.
Some of the shots were precise, dropping a few of the Vandals before they could retaliate. But the rest of them…
Bright streaks of purple light poured out of the Servitors' eyes, coating the remaining Vandals and Captains with illuminating energy fields.
All of a sudden, the flying bolts had no effect on the Fallen. The projectiles were stopped dead and splintered off of their radiating figures, doing no damage.
Before Quartz had time to process the shocking turn of events, one of the Fallen sprinted towards her.
Thrusting its spear forwards, she tilted the broad side of her sword to block the tip.
The blades clashed.
Her eyes widened. She could feel the heat of her sword melting.
With a twirl, she parried the spear away before twisting her body around, and delivering a powerful blow to the Fallen's chest.
It staggered back, but there was not a scratch on its armor. The energy shield surrounding it completely negated her attack.
A quick glance at her sword showed her where their blades met. Bits of the metal around the center was gone, turned to molten slag. The structure's still relatively intact, but her sword definitely felt a bit lighter now.
She can't afford another clash of blades, unless she was prepared to lose her main weapon.
She looked to her right, spotting two of the patrolmen beside the Hauler already having been felled by the Vandals, screeching unintelligible words of triumph.
"Watch out!"
Vulcan yelled, as she leapt in front of the Lupo, blocking another thrust from the Fallen's spear with her sturdy shield.
D32 steel, despite its incredible reliability and resilience, is not a perfect material. It would not last long against plasma-coated alloys capable of melting through most metals within milliseconds.
Vulcan was able to infer this later on, as she shoved the Fallen away with great force, only to inspect the front of her shield immediately after, and noticing the partially molten scratch ruining the paint.
She blocked a swipe from the Vandal, now joined by another by its side. Quartz pulled her back as they frantically stepped backwards.
Their backs were now up against the Hauler itself. They have no more room to evade, the invincible Fallen troops slowly surrounding them with their electrified spears and blades.
Something needed to be done about the damned energy shields. Their time was running out.
Away from the hectic battle, Provence stood behind a felled trunk, watching with terrific curiosity.
The Fallen troops were coated by the same blinding energy beam as the ones emitting out of the metallic spheres accompanying them, which so far has done nothing on the offensive.
The deduction was simple. Arts or not, the Servitors are projecting something to protect the troops from physical damage. They need to be taken out first, lest they would simply waste their energy and ammunition trying to kill an invincible army.
But their crossbows were not doing nearly enough damage to its hull. It didn't even bother to pay attention to them.
She briefly saw one of the patrols on the other side of the perimeter raised her hand, casting her Arts to create a solid ball of gathered rocks.
The ball was launched and hit one of the Servitors' hull with great force. Yet it only seemed to have dented it.
But before they thought nothing could be done-
Bang
A powerful explosive round originating from the Stoic's rifle, struck the Servitor, breaching its thick armor. But not enough to disable it.
Though it was enough to gain its now furious attention, as it immediately turned around to find its source. The violet light radiating off of its "eye" was nearly enough to blind her-
'… Eye.' An epiphany struck her.
Her crossbow swiftly zeroed in on the center of the thing's "eye", and without hesitation, she fired.
Spark
She could swear she heard the thing wail in pain as her bolt struck the exact center, the energy beams slightly flickering.
"Guys! The eye's the weak spot!" She shouted to the others, as her hand turned into a blur, immediately reloading another bolt.
Without pause, every available marksman and caster fired their rounds towards the same target.
Half of their shots managed to hit the "pupil", enough to greatly distract the damaged Servitor away from the rest of the Fallen troops.
Provence's wolf eyes focused, intent on hitting the exact same mark again. And she did.
Crackle
Her second shot having done significantly more damage, the Servitor howled, loose electricity flowing out of its destroyed eye. Its energy beams finally dissipated completely.
The second Servitor turned around to see its brethren somehow brought down by the marksmen hiding in the trees.
Bang
It received the same fate, as another explosive round, delivered by the same doctor, struck it right in its eye, cracking its metal and visor apart.
The Fallen troops suddenly felt fear again.
Quartz did not give the Vandals a moment of reprieve, immediately dashing forward with her sword spun around, putting all her strength into the swing with a roar.
The first Vandal tried to block with its spear. It broke in half, and the edge of the blade penetrated its armor, before sending its wounded body flying away.
The second Vandal managed to sidestep away in time. But as it tried to take a swing at the exposed Lupo, Vulcan intercepted its blades once again.
Before promptly ramming the shield towards its head, disorienting it. Wasting no time, she delivered a sweeping hit with her hammer, tackling its legs.
The Fallen was free-falling for half a second, long enough for a final crunching blow to its head pummeling it straight into the ground, creating a small shockwave, sending clouds of snow everywhere.
She took a moment to take deep breaths, examining the mess. She was too late to notice the six glowing eyes piercing the fog. Too late to block in time.
"Vulcan-"
Stab
Her eye-patched teammate screamed her name, as she felt searing pain in her right shoulder.
Without thinking, she swung her shield with her left arm, ramming the Vandal across its covered face.
She staggered backwards, her right hand slowly losing strength to hold onto her weapon.
Fortes are naturally physically stronger than most Terran races, an advantage they had since birth. A byproduct of their denser muscles and bones. With enough training, even their skin could become as durable as steel.
But as they have come to realize, Fallen weapons have no trouble surpassing steel.
There was no blood. The two wounds, on her front and back, were cauterized immediately by the Fallen's spear. At least she didn't have to worry about blood loss.
With her dilated pupils, she saw her teammate delivering an all-out clash against the remaining Fallen, swing after swing eventually wearing it down, until one final blow decapitated its head completely.
Quartz ran back towards her injured teammate, with heavy breaths. "Hey, are you okay!?"
"I'm fine…" Vulcan's tone was uneven, as she looked down on her shaking right hand. "… but I'm not sure if I'd be of good use now."
Quartz's eyes swept their surroundings.
Through a concentrated effort by the ranged marksmen and the other swordsmen, the remaining Vandals were finally felled.
All that remained were the two Captains, rage clearly written across their face, despite being covered by their masks.
Their more imposing figures signified their overall strength, far more than the rest of the dispatched troops. They would not be easier targets.
Rumble
They all heard the sound. The Skiff was coming back from the horizon. Then, they heard from the two Captains, what sounded like laughing.
The ship slowly came into view, with the lower section of its hull completely unfolding, revealing a pair of cannons. A most horrifying sight.
Quartz couldn't believe her eyes. They were going to lay waste to them from above?
"No way… I thought they wouldn't risk it!?" She exclaimed in confusion. Beside her, Vulcan raised her shield. It would be a futile effort regardless, but she would not die doing nothing.
Together, they braced for the worst.
The Skiff is circling back.
They must be getting desperate. After all, nearly all of their ground troops were decimated.
Though Faris could not get a constant clear view on what was happening two hundred yards away, he alongside his companion, has been able to provide some assistance with some well-placed shots. But he was certain that there were still casualties he could not avoid.
But he could not leave his position. Not yet. Not until he was sure that there won't be anymore reinforcements coming in.
He alerted the Sankta beside him. "On my command, concentrate fire on the two cannons situated below the Skiff's main hull."
"What cannons-"
Almost on cue, Ambriel watched as a section of the insect-like ship below its main body suddenly unfolded, revealing two of its new appendages.
The twin Arc cannons on the Skiff were now active. They were going to risk damaging the cargo after all, just for the same of gaining an advantage from above.
"Do you have a clear shot?" He asked the Sankta, his sight remaining steady on Zen Meteor's scope.
"Hold on… yeah, got it." She breathed in and out, ignoring the sweat running down her face. "But are you sure we have enough firepower to take those things down?"
"The mounted Arc cannons have less armor than the rest of the ship. We have a good chance." He reassured her. Truthfully, he was reassuring himself as well.
Faris focused.
Electroencephalographic conductors within the rifle drew energy from his accelerated brain activity, enhancing every bullet in the magazine.
Each shot will count.
"Now."
Bang
Bang
Two rifle rounds hit the Skiff's cannons, followed by echoes of the gunshots.
Then four more followed suit.
Boom
The Arc cannons were destroyed in an ceremonious blast, scraps of hull and machine raining down.
An unprecedented feeling of relief washed over them, as they saw the Skiff being forced to retreat, immediately passing by the open field without doing anything except becoming lighter.
But the relief was short. There were still the Captains to be dealt with. The RI and Ursus marksmen didn't hesitate.
A swarm of bolts and a few thrown Arts-infused hail of rocks greeted the larger Fallen, but the projectiles were immediately deflected by a faint shimmering layer of energy surrounding them.
The operators stared at the scene in shock.
"They have personal energy shields!" Quartz shouted, her voice shaken from the realization.
It was just as the Stoic had warned them. It was simply too farfetched to believe, until they saw it for themselves.
One of the Captains turned towards the forest surrounding he open field, clearly looking for the ranged fighters hiding among the trees.
Without warning, it materialized a huge unrecognizable firearm in its grip, and began firing at the trees.
Blast
Scorching shrapnel blazed through the forest, melting through tree trunks, before exploding as they lose their speed and hit the ground. The ranged crossbowmen and casters were forced to scatter from their positions to avoid the slags of metal and explosives.
The other Captain unsheathed its Shock Blades, and before the swordsmen could make a move, it disappeared, leaving behind only a trail of light.
The trail blitzed past one of the Ursus patrolmen.
As he turned around, the Captain already reappeared out of thin air, its blades brought down from above.
Swing
His body embraced the snow below in two halves. The remaining guards spared no reprieve, and immediately rushed to attack the Captain.
Yet despite their numerical superiority, the Captain's resilient Absorption Shield along with its plasma-cutting Shock Blades proved a larger advantage.
Ignoring the slashes done by their cold steel, it swung against a Ursus Patrol Raider. Her spear did little to repel the electrified alloy.
The swordsmen were getting worn down, one by one.
They could desperately use some additional support right now, especially from their two best ranged snipers.
Speaking of which, why hasn't she heard or seen anything from them?
"That thing's gonna leave."
Ambriel remarked, seeing the disarmed Skiff leaving the field in a hurry.
With most of its crew eliminated, and its only armament destroyed, the ship would be defenseless. Retreating would be a smart decision.
It would certainly return to wherever the Fallen's base of operations would be. And warn the rest of their losses, and who was responsible for them. Faris wouldn't let that happen.
But as he was prepared to draw out his Light, Ambriel's concerned voice halted him.
"Uhh… should we do something about that other ship?"
He froze. Another Skiff?
He turned towards the direction of her index finger, pointing towards the second batch of Fallen reinforcements. Said ship seemed to have arrived from a different direction than the first one, and it's heading…
"Uhh… it's heading right for us."
The Sankta beside him remarked, her voice becoming slightly shaken.
And her fear was legitimate, as evidenced by the ship's twin cannons already unfolding, its barrels pointed towards their direction.
"Hey, doc… maybe we should move!" She hastily reached for the doctor's arm, but he wasn't budging.
The cannons roared. Plasma projectiles raced towards their position.
He quickly grabbed the Sankta by her shoulder, ignoring her surprised yelp.
And in the blink of an eye, they were gone.
In the next instant, they dropped a few feet onto the ground, at the bottom of the hill.
Boom
The top of the hill exploded into chunks of dirt and evaporating snow. They would've been among the debris, if they hadn't moved.
Ambriel suddenly felt rather unwell.
She clasped her mouth, kneeling down. With all of her strength, she resisted the urge to regurgitate her lunch.
The doctor stood beside her, with a firm hand on her shoulder.
"I apologize. This is not something a Lightless civilian could easily get used to."
After all, having one's physical body and mind "plucked" from one dimension and traveling through the medium of another, before re-entering the same physical space in a different location, would logically be quite difficult to familiarize with.
She gulped, before taking deep breaths. "I'm fine, it's just… yikes." She forgot to even question what the doctor meant by "Lightless", only concerned with not losing her appetite.
Faris looked up. The rumbling sound of the Skiff was getting closer.
"It's going to keep coming towards us. I will handle it." He declared, his voice more confident than before.
"Yeah, and what are you gonna do t-"
Ambriel's last sentence was never finished, as she gawked at the supernatural display dancing along the Stoic's right arm.
He held a singularity in his palm, almost as dense as a miniature star.
He reeled his right hand back, at the cusp of release.
And with a violent push…
Fyoom
The Nova Bomb raced towards the sky.
The Fallen piloting the Skiff saw the horrifying display of paracausality, but was unable to steer clear in time.
A hole was torn in space-time.
Half of the Skiff's main hull was shattered, crumpled into nothingness.
He observed the damaged ship slowly losing altitude, as it crashed deep into the forest. Burning metal mixed with evaporating snow as thick smoke began rising from the crash site.
That may not be the only additional reinforcements they'll have to deal with. Without a vantage point like they once had, he wouldn't be able to foresee anything new coming their way, not until it would be too late.
He turned to the Sankta, disregarding her look of complete shock. "Ms. Ambriel, we should head back and regroup with the rest of your team. They might need our help."
Her head quickly shook, dispelling her stupor.
The doctor is a freak of nature for sure, but there were more important matters at the forefront.
"And, uh… how do we get there quickly?" She asked, fearful of the answer.
He extended his hand. "I can Blink us there, like before."
Her expression turned to one of genuine sorrow. Her fears were legitimate.
"It'll feel better after repeated jumps. You have my word."
He was lying. She couldn't prove it, but it was her gut feeling.
Provence ducked behind one of the felled tree trunks. Anything else is simply too big of a target.
Blast
Two shrapnel rounds managed to hit some of the RI crossbowmen, scorching holes through their clothes and flesh.
The rest were forced to flee from the perimeter, realizing they were outgunned despite their numbers.
The Shrapnel Launcher was laying waste onto its surroundings with ease, severely negating the advantage they previously had. Soon, there won't be any cover left standing. It was simply too devastating.
She slowed down her breathing, trying not to give her position away from behind the fragile stump.
'I need it to use it now!'
With one swift motion, she pulled out a jagged orb from her pouch, its size being almost larger than her palm. It was not hers, instead a single-use weapon provided by the Stoic.
From which a brief inspection of it made her recall the past conversation, way before all of this happened.
"It's a Scatter Grenade."
"Uhm… can you explain what that is?"
"A smart explosive ordinance. A squeeze will activate the ordinance, and a strong enough physical impact will cause it to split off into multiple sub-munitions, which will cover an effective range of between 5 to 10 meters."
"I… think I understand some of that."
"All you need to understand, is that it's a throwable weapon with a single use, and that it's highly advised for you to stay away once the munitions are active. Think of it as a backup. There is no telling the severity of the impending assault, so this may help if things were too dire."
"Right, got it. But… why give it to me?"
"Like I mentioned, it is best used at a distance. And you are an excellent shot, yes?"
Frankly, that doctor might have oversold her own throwing skills.
She has a clear sight on the Captain, but no window to take advantage of. Even a fraction of a second of exposure, and she might risk a devastating hail of molten metal coming right towards her.
Unless there was a distraction-
Crash
A booming sound echoed in the distance, coming from the south. The ground shaken with a small, but noticeable intensity.
What was that? It sounded like something heavy cratering the ground. Could it have been one of the Skiffs?
The Captain stopped its barrage to ponder the same questions, as it turned its head around to locate the source.
Enough to finally give Provence the window of time she needed, as she sprinted out of cover, the Scatter Grenade in her grasp lighting up.
The Captain heard the rustling of snow, and swerved immediately to fire. But she had already made her throw.
Thunk
It reacted too late to the sudden ping of a spherical piece of metal hitting off of its chest. Splitting off into a swarm of miniature payloads.
Provence dived onto the pale ground.
Boom
A series of explosions rocked the surrounding trees, vaporizing the ones closest to the blast radius.
She looked up, dusting off the clumps of snow on her elbows. The Fallen Captain was still standing among the violet flames and smoke.
But the shimmering field around it was gone. And its armor was greatly charred from the swarm of blasts. More notably, it was missing one of its four arms.
She couldn't believe it actually worked. But the Fallen did not share her joy.
Ignoring the pain, it shrieked through its mask and lifted its weapon to open fire on the Lupo.
Bang
A rifle round met its mark, lodging right into its temporal lobe after piercing its weakened armor. The Captain fell limp, no longer moving at last.
Provence turned to her saviour. A familiar-looking Sankta lowered her gun.
Ambriel raised her hand, delivering a shaky wave. "… Yo."
The Lupo breathed a sigh of relief, before she stood back up, dusting off the freezing snow on her legs, and making her way towards her fellow operator.
Whereupon a closer inspection, she noticed some strange things.
"Where's Mr. Faris? And why do you look… a little pale?"
The Sankta winced, recalling an experience she doesn't want to go through again.
"Trust me, don't ask."
Crash
A second loud explosion rumbled deep in the forest, to the north. This time, it caught both of their undivided attention.
"Did you hear that?" Provence gasped.
"I think everyone did." Ambriel replied.
Was that the work of the Stoic? Or something else?
Prior to that…
Quartz rolled to the side.
A small crater of displaced snow formed where she previously stood. Her head would certainly have been caved in by that Captain's foot.
Before she could recover, it disappeared in a flash of shimmering smoke again.
Noticing the direction of the light trail and where it led to, she narrowly avoided another swing from behind. But not entirely.
The Shock Blade delivered a large cut on her left arm, separating and cauterizing skin in an instant.
An agonizing burning pain followed. She gritted her teeth, not letting out even a sound.
Vulcan's shield rammed the Captain from the side, but it barely staggered it. Instead, it pushed back.
She wasted no time and raised her sword, executing a forward thrust.
But to no avail, as the lone Fallen vanished in a trail of light once again, keeping its distance away.
Reassessing her surroundings, the situation was as harrowing as ever. They were the only ones left standing in the field. And Vulcan could only assist with her shield, not having enough strength left to hold onto her hammer.
Despite their great losses, the Captain was worn down as well, having lost its protective energy shield at this current moment, hence its more careful approach. But it only meant that their stare down would last much longer.
Crash
In the midst of their momentary pause, a cratering explosion boomed in the distance, shaking the trees around them.
It wasn't the first one they've heard.
'What the hell is happening right now!?'
Her grip on the sword's handle became tighter until she could feel it almost cracking.
Fwoosh
Something struck the Fallen Captain's forearm, causing a deep burning slash as it painfully dropped one of its Shock Blades. It was… another Shock Blade?
Her eyes traced the path of the thrown blade.
It was the Ursus Patrol captain, kneeling down with one hand outstretched while the other clutched his cauterized wound.
A split second opportunity, but she took it.
Feeling a burst of strength set in, she rushed the disarmed Fallen, with one large it was quick enough to intercept with its remaining blade. Electric plasma began eating into her sword.
Yet she pushed even harder, not willing to waste this moment, not giving the Fallen even a millisecond of respite, despite its unintelligible curses thrown at her face.
Bang
An high-caliber round struck it from the side as it shrieked, losing its footing.
Feeling the sudden loss of pushback, she swung even harder, every last bit of her strength gathered into the attack.
Slash
The Fallen's headless body embraced the freezing snow below.
Her breaths were erratic. Her grip on the sword finally loosened. It was over.
And in the corner of her eye, emerged the Stoic, a smoking hand cannon of brightly-colored design in his hand.
Soon after, his presence was joined with her other two teammates. A small moment of relief washed over her, seeing the two of them relatively uninjured.
The doctor immediately walked up to her, feeling regret. "I apologize for not being able to help sooner. There was-"
She raised a hand to stop him. "It's fine…we're all still alive at least."
Suddenly recalling their previous casualties, she mentally backhanded herself. "Well, most of us."
A sudden hug greeted her, coming from Provence. "Thank god, you're all okay.." She expressed, almost in tears.
Quartz put a hand on her fellow Lupo's hair, grimacing. Her statement wasn't completely accurate. "Not all of us." She muttered, before turning her attention to the Forte who fought beside her.
Only to see the doctor already in front of her, doing… something?
Vulcan stared in amazement, seeing an impossible display of what she could only presume to be high level Arts.
A dance of violet sparks surrounding a dark purple orb hovered in Faris' palm. It gave off a soothing light. She almost wanted to touch it with her own hands.
"I haven't had much practice with this, but it should work." He spoke, before turning his palm into a fist.
It was the inverse of the natural philosophy of Void Light, one he had honed himself to achieve. Instead of stealing the essence of life from his enemies to fuel his own, he used his Light as the fuel, to gift said essence to his allies.
A burst of mending Void flowed outwards in a small radius around them. As Vulcan looked around, watching the curious dance of violet particles around her, she suddenly felt a rejuvenating wave of energy along her body.
Most of them concentrated around the large gashes on her shoulder, which slowly closed back up, until there was not a trace of damage done in the first place.
Feeling the bulk of her strength returning, she directly faced the doctor. "… Thank you, Mr. Faris."
He nodded, before walking off towards the still surviving Ursus Patrol captain in the distance.
Ignatenko flinched upon seeing the doctor get up close to him. But he was scared for nothing, as the doctor proceeded to do the same procedure, eliminating the wounds on his body, which could've been fatal if left untreated for longer.
"You… why?" He gasped.
Faris said nothing. He walked back to regroup with the RI operators, leaving the Ursus captain in silent introspection.
In the meanwhile, Vulcan was suffering an "assault" in the form of a hug from Provence, the same one Quartz went through. Meanwhile Ambriel watched from the side, secretly craving for something to chew onto. It would really help deal with all the stress.
Quartz was the first one to greet the doctor upon his return, though not with a formal one.
"You… you didn't tell us you could use healing Arts."
"No, that's not Arts."
Ambriel was the one to speak up, yet again surprising the rest. She had seen it first-hand, knowing there was more to it than that.
All eyes were now on the enigmatic doctor, whose expressions they couldn't see, yet they could feel his frustration building up.
"I apologize again, that there is much more that I needed to explain… which I must postpone further. There may be more trouble coming this way than we anticipated."
Quartz recalled the peculiar thing that happened before, during their battle.
"Those explosions… you don't think there's more of them?" Her voice was shaken.
Her worried expression reflected on the vertical visors of his helmet, as he turned to face her.
"I'm afraid so. You all know what to do. Regroup with the rest of your personnel and provide care for those who still need it. I will return later. Do not worry about me. Take care of yourselves first."
Before she could ask anything else, he suddenly vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of purple light. To the inexplicable shock of everyone. Well, almost everyone.
"Did… did he just-"
"Yeah, the doc's just full of surprises." Said Ambriel, unamused.
She could kill for a drink right now. They all could.
But regarding the Stoic's concerns, there can't be more Fallen, right? But then, what else could it be?
There was a third Skiff.
The Stoic rushed past countless trees, sometimes by foot, all other times through Void teleportation.
He saw the third one engaging its Arc cannons, aiming towards something, in the sky. Was it a different ship?
He couldn't take aim and destroy the cannons in time, before they've already fired the first few rounds. He didn't know for certain if they managed to hit their target.
All he could do, was draw upon his Light once again. Pushing it nearly to the brink.
A second Nova Bomb, much more difficult to create this time as he has just spent so much of his Light only less than two minutes ago. But it wasn't impossible. Rather, it's necessary.
Once again, he allowed the Void to coalesce within his palm. And let go.
Fyoom
Due to the massive distance, his aiming was a little off, to his dismay.
The singularity only managed to hit one of the Skiff's propulsion engines, disintegrating part of it and causing the ship to gradually lose altitude, until it crashed into the forest.
He waited, and waited. But there was no explosion that followed. Which meant there could still be survivors.
The crash site was not too far away from his current location. He would intercept the troops before they could make their way to the convoys, or before they could escape.
With a gesture, he felt the weight of Susanoo materializing in his grasps. It has been a while since he felt the need for this much firepower.
He shall deal with this matter first. And afterwards, the source of that cratering explosion earlier. Whatever it could've been.
Minutes before.
The constant humming of machinery in the background had become less of a nuisance.
Now, it was simply a familiar sound of strange comfort.
Andrei continued to rub and pinch at the cloth of his shirt. Or rather, something underneath it.
Alina had seen him do so before, but he always seemed to stop immediately whenever he noticed her look. But not this time.
"Does your chest hurt?" She asked in a worrying tone.
The boy looked up to meet her gaze. His hand remained clutched.
"No."
Her concern hasn't gone away. "Then what is it?"
He seemed to pause for a moment, before eventually looking down.
Slowly, he reached underneath the neck of his shirt, only to pull out something metallic with thin chains around his neck. A silver pendant.
He hesitantly explained. "It belonged to… my mother. She said I should… rub it for good luck."
She took a moment to sit closer to the boy, reaching out for the pendant as he presented it. The pendant imitated the shape of a closing crescent, with a small keyhole in the middle.
"It looks pretty." She whispered. "But what do you need good luck for? You have me, right?"
He shook his head. "It's not for myself."
Her expression changed to one of curiosity. But the boy continued before she could further ask.
"I'm wishing good luck to you."
Her expression changed once again, to that of appreciation.
Unfortunately, their somewhat serene moment was promptly cut short by a gruff voice from the cockpit.
"Looks like we're a little late to the party." Said the Drifter.
Their flight has been relatively uneventful for hours. It only makes sense that the quiet would eventually end.
"Is this where the signal leads?" She queried, having made her way to the front of the ship.
"See for yourself."
The Drifter gestured towards the unexpected sight of a Fallen Skiff circling an area of the forest hundreds of yards away, before slowly flying away to escape the battlefield.
She could see rising smoke, its source obscured by the trees. To the right, she could see… silhouettes, within a field uncovered by the forest. Microscopic from this distance, but they're visible, and moving.
He shrugged to himself. "Think there's people down there fightin' em. Don't know how they're gonna handle a Fallen raid of that size."
As he spoke, another Skiff flew across a different part of the forest, blowing away the top of a small hill.
"I'll be damned… there's more of 'em than I thought."
He exhaled, noticing a third Skiff, farther away than the rest, away from most of the action. Dispatching some ground troops, probably.
Whatever was going on involving that signal, one thing was certain. The Fallen is eager to reclaim their lost cargo. So much so that they've sent the equivalent of a platoon to get it back.
He quietly felt sympathy towards the unfortunate souls down on the ground, the ones responsible for starting this chain of events. Their luck must be worse than his.
Alina raised her voice. "We need to help them out now!"
She can't let this happen again. There are simply too many Fallen down there. Her instinct's telling her that they might not be able to take them all on their own.
But could she take them on? Her own skills were nothing to write home about. And yet, she didn't care.
"Can't get too close. Soon as those Skiffs spot us, we become target practice. This thing ain't built to handle plasma cannons to the face."
She grits her teeth in frustration. She wouldn't say he was wrong, but standing idly by to simply watch everything unfold?
It was impossible for her not to interfere.
She went to Andrei and strapped the crude seatbelts on him, which are actually lashing straps, more appropriate for holding down cargo rather than people. But it would suffice.
As she was done with the belts, the boy asked her. "Are you gonna go save more people?"
She paused, before giving him a smile, and a pat on his head, in between his antlers.
"I am. Just stay here and hold on tight, alright? I'll be back. And… keep wishing me luck."
He held a worrying look at first, but then nodded in understanding. Even if her Light was deemed enough, she would never reject the boy's faith and care for her.
She approached the Drifter again to his side, the smile on her face gone. Now replaced with a sharp stare towards the outside view.
"If you can't get closer, then just drop me off."
The Drifter glanced at her for half a second, and shrugged without an argument. "Alright."
With a pull from one of the levers on the console, the exit door on the side of the ship opened. A powerful gust of cold wind assaulted the interior.
Andrei held on tight to his seat straps, confused and terrified on what was happening.
"There you go. Fastest way down." The Drifter said nonchalantly. Though it wasn't a joke.
She looked towards the opened door, the outside being nothing but an endless expanse of clouds, and the woods far below.
She walked closer to the door, ignoring the biting winds past her face, before finally peering out of the opening.
It's a very long way down. She would not survive that fall.
"Can't you just land closer to the ground-"
"No time, remember? Have some faith, sister! Use your Light to fly or somethin'!" He shouted from the cockpit, the rushing breeze slightly muffling everything in the cabin.
In the midst of their quarrel, neither of them had noticed one of the airborne Skiffs turning towards their direction.
"I don't know how to do that!"
"You'll work it out! Just jump!"
"Guardian, maybe you should-"
"Incoming!"
Fwoosh
She could barely process the Drifter's yell, before the ship suddenly jerked sideways.
A huge stray plasma blast flew by, mere inches from grazing the hull.
In a fraction of a second, she realized she was no longer on the ship.
Instead, she was heading straight down, hundreds of meters between herself and the cold ground.
She stumbled in the air, catching a glimpse of the Drifter's ship becoming smaller in her vision. And a stroke of thunder in the clouds.
She could hear her Ghost yelling, but there wasn't time to understand his words. She could feel herself screaming too, but unable to hear it, as she was speeding up to terminal velocity.
Without thinking, she channeled Light into her arms and legs. The only thing that was in her mind, was the lightning.
Like an eel riding the downward stream, she visualized a lightning strike traveling from the cloud and towards the ground, in the path of least resistance.
She remembered why she wasn't on the ship, and briefly set her sights on her destination. Arcing Light surrounded her.
And her body became lightning.
The world became a blur, as she hurled herself across the air.
The visage of the forests became bigger. This was as far as she could take herself, before she felt her Light beginning to flicker.
She passed through a barrage of trees, and through sheer coincidence, right into a running crowd of armed, but terrified Fallen.
She held out her hands to stop her velocity.
And everything went white.
CRASH
…
Silence.
Not for long.
"-hey, can you hear me?"
Her eyes flared open. She was laying up against a cracked tree bark.
She slowly looked around, to see a wide trail of burnt snow and soil, with the occasional sparks emitting from the ground. It seemed like a meteor had violently crashed here a minute ago, and carved the frosted surface wide open.
It didn't take her long to realize that she was the meteor.
"What you did earlier, was astonishing. Maybe a little reckless. Just like a Titan…" Said her Ghost.
She didn't know what he meant by that, but thought it was another question on top of the already growing pile in the back of her mind.
"What happened earlier?"
Her Ghost continued. "You took out a good few of those Fallen, then your body kept tumbling across the ground, frying everything around you. You also uh… hit your head a little too hard, among other things. I had to bring you back a while later."
Her head still hurts. That might explain the broken tree behind her. Somehow the pain lingers even after resurrection, but it wasn't worth questioning.
Recollecting herself, she nearly failed to notice the visage of a Vandal, cloaked by the receding dust cloud caused by her explosive arrival.
"We're not alone!" Her Ghost exclaimed as he disappeared from view.
Hearing the crackle of an energy weapon firing, she instinctively rolled to the side, narrowly missing an energy projectile scorching the snow where she initially was.
She swung her hand towards the source of the projectile, volatile Arc Light gathering in her fingertips.
Without hesitation, she charged her Light and let go. Zapping a Vandal, frying its insides.
Two more took its place, armed with spears. They sprinted towards her position with surprising speed.
She reached for the pulse rifle strapped on her back, the Bygones she had gotten accustomed to, howling with fire.
Four bursts, and they were brought down.
She heard something land on the snow.
She looked down. An odd cylinder, with a laser pointing upwards.
Ti-ti-tick
She instinctively rolled away. But not quick enough.
Boom
A bright explosion shook the landscape.
She felt pain in her left leg and arm. No, that's not it. She couldn't feel both limbs at all.
Within moments, her eyes finally darted to the burnt stumps that once completed the left side of her body. Her missing limbs were nowhere in sight.
She didn't have time to register the excruciating pain. A bubble of mending Light in her remaining hand, and maybe… she'd be able to walk and hold things again.
Within her peripheral vision, she spotted two more Vandals with rifles of their own, cautiously approach her.
She held out her palm, but there was nothing. She was in no condition to fight back.
Bang
One of them dropped its Wire Rifle, its body following suit, with a faintly tinted smoking hole on its back. The other swiftly turned around to fire an accelerated energy bolt. It didn't hit its mark.
Bang
Another powerful shot struck the Vandal in the chest, and it quickly falls limp to the ground.
Emerging from the woods was the Drifter, walking in big strides towards her.
In his hand, was what she could only assume to be a greatly malformed gun, with the glowing engraved barrel resembling a twisted hollow tree branch more than a gun barrel. She didn't have the energy to question the logic of it all.
But they were not completely alone yet.
Three more Vandals emerged from the other side, along with a Captain, wielding an abnormally large weapon.
She thought he wouldn't stand a chance. Even if he was more skilled than she was.
But then he did something she never expected. He pulled out a…throwing star?
And as it made contact, the three Vandals were stopped frozen by the throwing star, one after the other. Literally frozen.
With a twirl, he fanned three shots from his twisted hand cannon. Shattering the frozen troops into a million pieces.
The remaining Captain roared against the Drifter, aiming its Scorch Cannon at him.
The cannon roared and fired its payload.
Boom
But it was stopped by a wall of ice. Or rather, perfect crystals, forming in absolute zero temperature.
The resulting explosion sent a thick cloud of smoke outwards. She couldn't see anything. Neither could the Fallen Captain.
And it never got a chance fire its cannon again.
Vrrrr- Crack
A hypersonic projectile pierced through the smoke, and through the Captain's skull, breaking its energy shield and its armored helmet in a single shot.
Its lifeless body fell along with the cannon, the heated metal melting the snow around it.
The smoke eventually cleared, leaving only the Drifter still standing, as his kit-bashed accelerator weapon disappeared from his grasp via transmat.
"Always a crazy stunt with you, huh?" He greeted the young Lightbearer.
Alina stared back, dazed and confused. She struggled to stand back up, her missing limbs already rebuilt together, through no small effort of her Ghost.
"I… how did you…"
He dusted off some ash and dirt on his shoulder. "Found a good spot to finally land after we almost got shot out of the damn sky. Someone was on our side, takin' care of those Skiffs.
Oh yeah, the kid's safe. Told him not to touch anything… let's hope he's not half as stubborn as you are."
Her stare still remained on him. It was becoming slightly unnerving, to say the least.
"Right, that's not what you were wonderin' about was it?"
She wanted to say something. But couldn't do so in time.
She saw distortions right behind him.
"BEHIND-"
CRACK
A bolt of blue light pierced through the Drifter's chest.
Alina watched with petrified eyes as he dropped to the ground.
It was a horrifyingly familiar scene.
She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing a vibrant blue. A surge of thunder roared in the clouds right above them.
She had no idea how she could do it. But almost like it was second nature, she called upon the lightning from the sky.
Strike
The cloaked Fallen didn't have time to aim for its second target before it was immediately vaporized into constituent particles.
The localized storm subsided. Alina sat there, unmoved. Silent.
Her fists balled up until she nearly drew blood. Her eyes shut with despair.
She had failed again. She couldn't save another-
Buzz
"Huh?"
She saw a single red eye, hovering in the air. Covered by a multitude of mismatched metallic pieces. It didn't seem right at all.
It was a Ghost. Not her own.
The red-eyed Ghost scanned the Drifter's lifeless body. Then, a low hum and a bright flash of light.
Not just regular light. But Light. Just like her own.
The Drifter then rose up while clutching his chest. Having returned from death.
"Can't believe I missed that one…" He cursed under his breath. He's fought plenty of Marauders before. How could he have let that one slip under his nose?
Not long after, he noticed the shock-ridden stare of the young Lightbearer beside him.
Alina was speechless. Her Ghost said nothing as well.
"You… but… what…?"
So many sentences she tried to form, none was ever complete.
The Drifter released his longest sigh. He didn't care to say anything. He looked over to his disfigured Ghost, giving it a nasty glare, but saying nothing.
They were the same. And he never thought to even bring it up. But why?
"… All this time?" She uttered, almost breathless.
He ignored her and turned around to do what he has always done when there are bodies to scavenge, his Ghost already having disappeared without saying a single word.
It was unfathomable. The Drifter? A Guardian? Yet, they couldn't be further apart from one another.
She could not help but become judgmental. To begin questioning everything she thought she's known up to this point.
As he pried something off of one of the dead Vandals, he spoke again. "I know what your question is, and trust me… I don't know either."
She never outright said it of course.
'Why him?'
Why was he chosen by the Light? Why did he hide it this entire time? Why leave her in the dark for so long? She simply couldn't fathom the reasons.
"I just… I don't get it. You have the gift of Light like I do… and you don't want to use it?"
He didn't look back, but she heard him speak.
"It's not a gift, sister. Anything but."
Not a gift? Then what would it be for him? A curse?
She wanted to know more. To figure out the puzzle before her. Of what circumstances led him down this path, an outlook of the Light so different, so twisted, from her own.
Or maybe… there is no puzzle. What if he was telling the truth? Would she even want to know?
Taking an intact Web Mine off of the last lifeless Vandal, the Drifter finally turned around to the address the Elafia. "You gonna keep standin' there like a deer in the headlights, or should we track-"
She saw the sudden halt in his sentence, and his stare, towards something right past her.
Looking towards the same direction, she saw a humanoid silhouette, with what seemed like a gun. Her first instinct, was it being an enemy.
Her arms were raised, Arc Light flowing through her fingertips.
The silhouette raised a hand. "Calm down, miss."
As the voice finally came closer, it became evident that he was human. His face hidden under a helmet with an odd visor design.
"My name is Faris. I am a doctor, and I was here with a convoy, before we were attacked by the Fallen." He explained himself.
The doctor took a quick sweep of the surroundings, seeing the aftermath of a recent battle that he was certainly not a part of.
"Were you the one who did all this? Are you two alright?"
The Drifter remained quiet, skeptical of the new stranger. Alina sought to clear a few things. Though for some reason, his words sounded different than what she was used to. Yet she could understand him anyway. It wasn't until she answered him that it became clear why.
"Мы в порядке, мы здесь чтобы помочь."("We're fine, we're here to help.")
Faris blinked. He was expecting her to greet him in "Columbian" as that tends to be the most widely practiced language in this world. But she may simply be native to this region. And so he answered in "Ursine" instead.
"Ты свободно говоришь на Урсин. Но ты понимаешь и Колумбийский. Ты можешь на нем говорить?" ("Your Ursine is fluent. But you also understand Columbian. Can you speak it?")
The Elafia froze. Was the doctor speaking a different language before?
"Didn't even notice you're bilingual yourself, sister?" The Drifter finally spoke up in that same language.
"Ah, это верно (that's right)… your English is a little rusty." Her Ghost whispered, now also switching to the same language as the Drifter did. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you, but I thought it wasn't important until now."
It never crossed her mind before, but in hindsight it would make sense. Of course there would be more languages other than the one she currently speaks.
"You… understand now?" She spoke again, this time using Columbian, a second language she didn't even realize she knew. Though she had a feeling her accent was not quite as smooth.
Faris nodded. "Now, I believe we owe each other introductions?"
She went ahead to answer. "My name is Alina, and this is… Drifter." Her voice hesitated towards the end.
She wasn't sure who, or what her companion even is anymore. Perhaps it was fitting then that he never gave her his real name. If he ever had one.
Right after her introductions, the doctor quickly glanced towards the Drifter, his stare suddenly becoming unnaturally still.
"We came here because we were… aware of an impending Fallen attack. And we wanted to help. You said that there are others with you, right? If some of them were injured, maybe I could…"
She trailed off, her sentence unfinished as she realized Faris' abnormal look. But not towards herself.
The Drifter have also noticed the same peculiar look. Directed towards him.
"Got a funny feeling behind that glass, brother?"
Faris seemed to have noticed his realization as well.
"I recognize you… Drifter."
Instinctively, both of them knew something was up.
Click
And both drew their revolvers at one another.
"Woah, what is going on!?"
Alina shouted, reverting back to her native language.
The Drifter kept his hand cannon aimed at the doctor's head, whom also did the same in return.
"Have we met before, slick?"
"I have heard stories. And I believe we have met once. Though back then I believe you wore a different guise. And a different name. Am I correct… Wu Ming?"
Drifter paused.
Then he chuckled.
"Haven't heard that one in a long time."
Lost Light
0 - 7
Author's Note
Yep, this is a big chapter. Merry Christmas- oh wait, I'm a little late. Oh well.
I was planning to release this a little earlier, but I ended up reworking a few sections, and now it felt a little bit too long. Also started writing the future chapters ahead of time, but time will tell if I'll stick to those drafts. At least this one's out now.
Giving the Rhodes Island side a lot more focus this time around, some nice action moments, and some pretty darn big revelations all around too. Probably the most hectic chapter I've written thus far (not that I've written a lot but still).
Addendum: I'm not a native Russian speaker, so apologies for any mistakes in the translations. Maybe I could've done with just not putting the sections in, but I just wanted to clarify a possible plot issue I definitely forgot to explain before regarding how everyone just understands each other clearly.
Anyway, happy holidays, and until next time.