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Chapter 5: True Fall

“Innocence is a funny thing. It, like many things in our world, is subjective. We only perceive grass as green because that is how our eyes and brains interpret the photons that the plants reflect. Innocence is much the same. We only see someone as innocent because that is what we see. I never truly found out if Konseral was guilty or not. But quite frankly, it really didn’t matter.”

Calibre Grade (Wood)

Vulcan

In all the time that Wood had taken lessons from Rayne and fought against him, their Combat Class teacher was completely and utterly unbeatable. Vi Translatio was one of Rayne’s many techniques that kept him in the fight. Aside from being a skilled close quarters combatant, he was also a very skilled Physiomancer though his magic tended to be subtler than Buster’s overly grotesque transformations. Add to that his experience at reading people from being a teacher and a myriad of other techniques, Rayne would not to be defeated very easily.

But seeing Sylana using her Fusion Style was enough to give him pause in his assessment. The light from her explosive transformation faded to reveal her form. Her short hair stuck up on end as if she had been electrocuted. A fiery, red aura surrounded her, constantly emitting a pulsating crimson glow. Veins all over her body glowed with the same unearthly cerise colour. Even from where he sat, Wood could feel the waves of heat emanating from her.

“So that’s Fusion Style…” he whispered.

Kane grunted softly and shook his head disapprovingly. “But one that isn’t so well implemented.”

“Huh?”

“Fusion Style is supposed to be a perfect fusion of your body with a type of combat magic. You’re constantly channelling the art through every cell in your body.” He gestured at Sylana’s scintillating form. “That’s impressive and she’s got the first part right; opening a channel from her Force energy to constantly be converted into Pyromancy at a regular rate without completely eating her up but she’s isn’t able to contain it. Look, her fur is already starting to turn white.”

Wood glanced at Sylana and noted that the tips of her tail were indeed starting to lose pigment. “You’re telling me that Fusion Style is really dangerous?”

“It’s awesome if used perfectly,” answered the Ursus. “You become the living embodiment of a certain kind of magic. You don’t have to consciously cast spells anymore. It just happens for you at your whim. Problem is when it’s poorly used like now. She’s got… maybe three, four minutes tops before she becomes dangerously close to losing every inch of her Force energy to the transformation. Then it becomes fatal.”

“Then we have to stop her!”

“No,” Alex said calmly. “There are some mistakes that just have to be learned by yourself instead of taught by someone else. Let her make her own mistakes, follow her own path.”

Wood grit his fangs together and sat back down, helpless.

Sylana let out a primal cry, her voice resounding like a dozen other voices were shouting alongside her. A fiery trail followed her path, tracing a line across the platform as flames erupted from her heels and back to propel her forward.

Konseral stormed towards the stage. “Sylana! Stop this!”

Rayne momentarily glanced towards him and was struck by a fiery fist straight into his gut. A savage smile crossed the glowing Racoorin’s features. A loud, keening noise filled the air and another source of heat washed down from above. Wood glanced upwards in time to see a huge ball of fire and earth slam right down upon Rayne and Sylana.

“What the hell!?” he exclaimed.

“Meteor Fist,” Kane provided gruffly. His claws were digging into his own arms. Clearly he disproved of Sylana’s method. “Would normally take a long combination of signs to conjure but in Fusion Style, she can cast it immediately.”

Sylana let out another cry and threw another punch and another and another. The impact of each blow sent a wave of hot air blasting out. Konseral, who was closest, was forced back, arms covering his features to keep his eyeballs from boiling. Meteorites came screaming from the sky, pummelling Rayne from above just a second before each blow. Each one that shattered sent a fresh wave of scintillating heat outwards with those closest to the stage throwing up their hands to protect them from the hot pieces of shrapnel sailing towards them.

As the last meteorite fell, Sylana pulled her paw back, flames gathering around her fist and exploding from her elbow. Propelled by the force of the fire, she sent her fist screaming forward in a blistering uppercut. Both she and Rayne were launched into the air a good ten feet. At the same time, a fiery gust exploded out from behind her streaming outwards like visible red whips. They lashed at Rayne with gale-force winds and searing flames. Before he could get thrown too far into the air, she brought her other fist crashing downwards against his chest. The same red-tinged storm followed her blow and sent him crashing into the ground with a thunderous crash.

Kane shook his head and let out a ragged sight of disappointment. “Flame Claw.”

“Why do you sound so annoyed?” Kira demanded. “Is your male pride too sensitive to take the idea of the man whom you idolise being pummelled by a girl?”

“You wish,” he scoffed sarcastically. “Fusion Style was developed as a means to counteract the innate drawbacks of using the Combat Signs arts. For Pyromancy, because the Ars Ignea Pungo requires broad, sweeping movements coupled with sharp, precise attacks, you’re expending a lot of Force energy in moving your limbs as well as casting the spells. It’s also doesn’t have any good grappling moves or anything that’s really good at restricting movement. Fusion Style is meant to take away the conjuring time of the art so you don’t have to make so many punches and kicks before you cast your spell and use your spells more strategically.”

“It seems to me that Sylana is doing just that.”

“Yeah but her attacks are all incredibly expensive. She unleashed fifteen Meteor Fist attacks and just used Flame Claw twice in a row. Even normally, that’s incredibly taxing on her Force reserves. Look at her tail.”

Wood did and noticed that about half of the length had now completely turned white. “Shit… She’s running on empty, isn’t she?”

“She’s started eating into her own body’s Force,” agreed Kane. “Her spells and attacks are actually breaking down her cells to power her spells. That’s the drawback of Fusion Style. You become extremely powerful but unless you have complete control, there’s nothing stopping the constant channelling of the spell from devouring your own physical form to power it.”

“We need to stop her!” Kira exclaimed. “She’ll kill herself!”

“Rayne’s got this,” answered Alex grimly.

“Surely you jest! He’s being soundly defeated!”

“Look again.”

Alex’s grim smile of confidence made Wood turn back towards the fight.

Sylana landed back on the ground, heavily panting and with that aura of sizzling flames around her growing stronger and stronger. Her focus was wavering and her body was leaking Fire Magic. She was desperately trying to compensate, however. A constant jet of flame like a pair of folded, fiery wings sprung up from her back just between her shoulder blades. It seemed to keep her propped up and prevent her from toppling to the ground. Her blazing eyes were solely focused upon Rayne who lay unmoving in the pit she had made with the impact.

Seconds ticked by and with each one that passed, she grew weaker. Frustrated with waiting, she let out another roar, weaker than the last, and shot forward. She boldly scooped Rayne by his collar and threw him straight upwards into the air. Flames erupted from her heels, launching her into the air. Whether it was due to lack of control or intentional, she somersaulted in the air, her feet stretched out in front of her. Her feet slammed into Rayne, propelling him higher. As she straightened ten feet into the air, another burst of fire erupted from her heels and those ‘wings’ on her back. She rocketed after Rayne and again flipped in the air, hurling even higher.

“Pinwheel of Pyre,” Kane observed. “I would’ve started with that. If the hits don’t get you, the impact of the fall would.”

Wood understood what Kane meant as Sylanna performed another three fiery somersaults, each one kicking Rayne a good fifteen feet further into the air. She gave chase one last time and clasped both her hands over her head. All her frustration and pain coalesced into flames around her fists and she sent it crashing downwards against Rayne’s back. A scorching wave of fire blasted out from the impact. Judging by Kane’s silent shake of his head, that was another wasteful tactic. Rayne hit the platform hard, creating another crater much larger than the last.

Sylana descended back to the platform, flames shooting from her heels and back to try and stall her descent. What little energy she had left spluttered and she collapsed to the ground, falling to her knees and panting heavily. The fiery aura around her began to subside, barely an angry flickering. Whether it was sweat in her eyes or just exhaustion, she didn’t realise until a full ten second later that the crowd was deathly silent and that Rayne was crouched on the ground.

“Trying to injure me before by Vi Translatio kicks in, huh?”

Her eyes widened in shock. Rayne slowly rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders dramatically. “It’s a viable tactic. Certainly impressive in its own right. The power you put behind each of your blows was certainly something. But you didn’t think I just had Vi Translatio, did you?”

“What!?” she demanded.

Rayne shrugged helplessly, a confident smirk on his face. “I’d leave myself open to attack from Spirit-based spells and techniques if I just relied entirely on Vi Translatio. I mean, that’d just be a glaringly obvious weakness. What kind of idiot would I have to be if I just focused on my strengths and didn’t give any thought to my vulnerabilities. What kind of example would I be setting for my kids?”

He crossed his arms smugly. An aura of vile, purple energies surrounded him. Unlike Sylana’s flaming aura which lashed out angrily everywhere, Rayne’s aura was solid, focused and clung to his flesh. “That’s why I also have Consumo Spiritus. Devour Spirit.” He reached out towards her, forming a claw with his fingers. “Just as Vi Translatio absorbs Force energy directed at me, Consumo Spiritus absorbs ambient Spirit energy.”

“But I haven’t even used my Spirit energy yet!” she barked. The Racoorin winced and fell to her knees. Her tail had almost completely turned white.

“I never said that it just had to be your Spirit energy.” Rayne glanced over to Skye with a smile. “I learned this from some shamans I’ve known. They use the Spirit energy directly from their surroundings to power their spells. I’m in no way that advanced but I can certainly take all that energy and form a nice little shield around myself. I call it my ‘Spirit Shield’.”

“Spirit Shield?” Kira repeated from the sidelines.

“Basically Rayne’s impenetrable barrier,” JD responded calmly. “He absorbs Spirit energy from his surroundings and converts it into defensive barrier around himself that can absorb blows. Thing is, he can’t absorb Spirit energy from nature like most Shamans can. Only sentient beings can be targeted. Creatures who can feel something. Emotions. It’s why he always tells us to keep our cool in battle because if you give him the chance, Rayne will just turn your emotions into a shield for himself which you’ll never be able to penetrate the more you’re outwardly emotive.”

“So he’ll absorb your physical blows to heal himself and should you get mad, he will turn that into a shield. Can he be defeated?”

JD’s features were still and unreadable. “Yes. Yes he can.”

Wood had to wonder exactly how that was possible. In the entire time that he had been in Rayne’s class, no one had ever defeated the Combat Class professor. Many had tried and in the yearly Faculty Exhibition Matches, Rayne had always defeated his foes no matter how powerful their attacks against him were. In his opinion, with the combination of rapid regeneration and an invulnerable shield, Rayne was unbeatable. And he had yet to even go on the offensive.

“What are you?” hissed Sylana.

The purple aura around Rayne gathered around his fist in whirling wisps of purple light. “I’m a teacher.” He pulled his fist back. “And since we’re in the habit of shouting our attacks… Demon…”

Wood suddenly sprang to his feet. “Everyone get out of the way!”

Buster, Skye and JD did the same and began pushing the crowd as far away from Rayne’s line of fire as possible. Sylana noticed and sighed heavily. The fiery aura around her dropped and she bowed her head, accepting defeat.

“FIST!”

Rayne thrust his fist forward. There was still a good ten feet between him and the exhausted Racoorin but the single punch sent a screaming, purple shockwave forward with enough force that it shredded the rocky platform beneath its path, turning it into a fine, brown dust and sent it flying in its wake. Wood barely had enough time to tackle a couple of girls to the ground and wrap his wings protectively around them before the shockwave hit him. He grit his teeth together as the titanic blow shredded the stands where he had been sitting, turning hard stone into a cloud of particles and sending the debris careening off the side of the hill.

The ground stopped shaking. There was a moment of disorientation as Wood fought to regain his composure. He lifted his head cautiously and unfurled his wings slowly. As the dust cleared, Rayne was revealed to still be standing. Sylana lay on her back, staring up at the sky. It was impossible to tell just how injured she. A large portion of the stone stands had been ripped completely out like someone had taken an immense shovel and just scooped out a portion of the arena.

Rayne strode over to Sylana, the ground uneven from the devastating blow of his Demon Fist attack. He squatted down beside her.

“I tried my best and I still couldn’t beat you…” she breathed. Her eyes were closed, likely to keep the tears back.

“There’s a really old saying,” Rayne responded. “Jack of all trades, master of none.”

“But still better than a master of one.” Sylana opened one of her eyes at him. “I know the saying. I hoped to emulate it. It’s the reason I had no particular focus on any of the Styles. Versatility versus specialty, you know.”

The raven-haired instructed nodded. “I admire that actually. A good approach to your training. You just need a little more time. Mastery does not come so easily, after all.”

“You were just better.”

Rayne laughed softly. “Maybe.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “But I better watch my back. You’re not too far off from actually hurting me.”

She gave him a weak smile and took his hand. The gesture of sportsmanship brought a cheer from the crowd especially when they noticed that Sylana wasn’t overly injured. A good portion of her otherwise grey fur had turned white but she seemed okay. Several of the Reaching Flame members came rushing in to help her. That fiery-haired wizard, Char the Cleanser, directed them to take her to the infirmary.

For the briefest of moments, Char and Rayne locked gazes.

“You haven’t lost your touch, Amon,” whispered the Pyromancer.

Rayne did not reply to him and turned back towards his side of the ring.

Wood made sure that the people he had protected were safe before moving to meet with Rayne. They gathered around the instructor with Buster congratulating him and Alex chiding him on the careless act.

“I know that wasn’t even half of your repertoire,” said the larger, red Wulfun. “But it was still a bit reckless. You could’ve killed some innocent bystanders back there.”

“I consider the consequences of my actions, Alex,” countered Rayne with a smug smile. “I don’t just get carried away in the heat of the moment like someone I know. I knew you guys would get everyone out of the way in time.” He glanced over his shoulder where the Reaching Flame members were gawking at the mess he had make. “But this was more than just a show of power…”

“You mean you weren’t just flexing your muscles?” Wood asked sardonically. “You pretty much had her on the ropes the whole fight. If you blew in her direction during those last few hits, I’m pretty sure she would’ve fallen over. That…” He gestured at the hole in the stand. “… that was just overkill.”

He felt an icy stare to his left and he turned to find Kira staring exasperated daggers at him. “It was a scare tactic, you muscled moron. There’s going to be a fight. The Reaching Flame is going to turn against us. You can feel it in the air.”

Just a quick glance around and Wood thought he could feel what Kira was referring to. A few stares were thrown his way. Many of the Flame looked to where Sylana was being carried away in a stretcher before looking back towards them. A sense of alienation filled him.

Why would they feel that? We saved their lives and this was Sylana’s idea.

“People fear those with power,” Rayne said grimly. “Courage is spawned from standing against someone with greater strength only when you have others beside you. Right now, there’s a lot of people that think we’re somehow involved in Konseral’s assassination attempts. But with that little show, I’ve shown them a little bit of what I can do. It’s enough to instil some doubt.”

“And remind me again why we’re trying to scare them and not just arrest them outright?” Kane asked. “Just get a military investigation set up. No questions asked.”

“Because not everyone here is a criminal if any of them are at all. Mob mentality, Kane. I’ve taught you better than that.” He nodded towards Wood. “You’re next up, Bladebreaker. I don’t expect you to go nuts like me but give them a show regardless.”

Wood nodded grimly. Following up Rayne’s display would not be easy but he was utterly thrilled at the idea of pitching his skills against Roran Northridge. Kane and Skye went to work quickly repairing the surrounding arena using some Earth Magic. Few actually left the stands as they were all too eager to see how the famed Incendian Smith would do against the heir to the Bladebreaker fortune.

“And words of advice?” he asked.

“I have some,” Alex said, lifting a paw.

If it’s about how sharp his ‘sword’ is, I don’t want to hear it.

Wood kept his thoughts private, however and nodded for JD’s dad to continue.

“You know about the four types of Forge Arts, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be a smith if I didn’t.” He held up four fingers. “Reforging, Reinforcing, Repair and Rematerializing.”

JD let out a soft hum. “I feel like someone was really straining for ‘R’ names for that…”

Ignoring him, Wood said, “Reforging is the art of turning something into something else. Reinforcing is making something stronger or bringing out its inner qualities. Repair is pretty self-explanatory and Rematerializing is creating something through magic alone.”

“Roran is an expert in Rematerializing,” Alex warned gravely. “During the fight at your place, he was able to create his own weapon out of nothing. It wasn’t summoning. He forged it there and then and it took one second. And those arrows he fired? Created out of thin air.”

Holy shit!

“Is that impressive?” Kira asked sceptically. “I can summon weapons in a second.”

“But yours are prepared,” Wood said. “It’s not like you can add and manipulate the qualities of a weapon or armour on the fly. That’s the advantage of Rematerializing. Say your enemy is immune of Pyromancy. You can Rematerialize your weapon as a Cryomancy alternative. It’s incredibly expensive as well and should take a while. You’re literally creating something out of nothing.”

The Lady Summoner inclined her head to the side. “That would be a good skill to have.”

Regarding his claws, Wood found himself shaking a little. “I was never that fast at Rematerializing. That’s why I have Quadrant. I can create weapons really fast with it but if Roran can do it with just his own skills and reserves…”

Alex’s heavy paw fell on his shoulder. “Don’t lose heart. Remember, it’s just an exhibition match. But if you’re gunning to win, break his weapons. No matter how quick he can conjure them, it is still incredibly expensive to create a weapon. Use that to your advantage.”

Good advice. Smiths aren’t really combat specialists but they can be with Forge Arts.

“Thanks, Alex.”

Wood stepped up to the platform. Roran did the same, striding casually up to the other side of the arena. He waved his paw absently to the left. A flurry of fire and light erupted from the far-left corner of the platform, rising up like a geyser of red and white. Wood was instantly on edge.

Shit! Are we staring already!?

From the flames emerged a tall, metal obelisk. The majority of it was made a of a bright, red metal with silver edges – a trademark of Roran’s style. Arcane runes were engraved all the way down the length of the construct. Roran summoned a second obelisk at the other corner. The runes immediately began to glow and a faint film of red light connected the two.

“On advisement of the quite a few people, I’m putting up these towers that’ll offer some shielding against stray attacks,” Roran shouted across the field. “Think you can make something similar on your side? It’d only be fair.”

Wood regarded the structures again. The runes were far more complex than he was used to and he was unfamiliar with their combinations. From what he could tell, they formed some sort of complex shield designed specifically to connect to only set obelisks. The first one Roran conjured was specifically numbered ‘one’ and was meant to connect only to obelisk ‘two’.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I can do that.” He turned towards his corner and held out his hand. Brilliant light-blue cubes burst from the four disc-shaped Matter Converters mounted on his back. They streamed towards his corners of the platform. He tried to make them as close to Roran’s obelisks as possible. Since he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of all everything in the smithing world, he knew that Roran usually constructed his objects using an alloy of Red Adamantine and Iron. Adamantine rarely occurred naturally anymore and only great smiths like Roran knew the substance intimately enough to create it using their Forge Arts.

This is my chance to prove to Roran that I’m not just a wannabe smith!

The blue cubes gathered together, building the obelisks within seconds. Not as fast as how Roran had created his but still, they were close enough to the real thing that they linked up to the other two towers without issue and created a solid barrier around the platform.

“Impressive,” Roran said, his keen eyes appraising Wood’s towers. “Your composition is 80% Red Adamantine, right?”

Wood started in surprise.

He can tell from just looking at it!?

“Uh… Yeah. How’d you know?”

The bulky Tigris pointed at the obelisk. “The colour. Red Adamantine in its rawest form is blood-red. Your towers are really close to that.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Notice how mine is a little more orangey? It’s only 50% Red Adamantine.”

He balked and his cheeks began to burn in embarrassment beneath his emerald scales.

Crap! How’d I miss that!?

“Red Adamantine is an excellent conductor for Pyromancy,” Roran lectured. “It can actually enhance Pyromancy spells and help focus it. That’s why we smiths are always in business. But too much Adamantine and the object will actually absorb the Fire Magic instead of act as a conduit. The purer the metal, the harder it is for the magic to course through it. That’s why I built mine with 20% iron distinctly focused around the edges of the construct so –”

“That there’s a clear entrance and exit for the magical energies!” Wood finished excitedly.

Shit! Stop fanboying!

“Right,” Roran laughed softly. “But I also infused some etherium into the Red Adamantine. That’ll make the metal weaker, yes, but it’ll also ensure that it’s capable of conducting magical energies much easier.” The Tigris gestured at Wood’s towers. “You picked the 80 – 20 ratio because that’s what all those articles said was my preferred ratio. But if you want to be a good smith, you can’t just follow someone else’s template. Every weapon is unique. Not every person will wield the same design the same way. If you want to be a great smith…”

Roran chuckled softly and shrugged his broad shoulders. With a flick of his wrist, a burst of flame erupted from his left paw. A bright red and silver bow with a distinct feather design appeared in his paws. In some ways, it reminded Wood of the Adramalech Phoenix.

“Listen to me go on like an old man. We’re here to give these people a show.” Another burst of flame erupted from his other paw and he quickly notched his arrow. Roran noticed that it too was built with a mixture of Red Adamantine and iron. “So let’s dance, kid.”

Holy shit! Roran Northridge is firing at me!

Wood quickly knocked himself out of being star struck and immediately began forging his traditional arrangement – two chain guns beneath his arms and two mechanical arms over his shoulders. He dodged to the right just as Roran’s arrow went flying past him. Blue cubes sprang from, curling around his limbs–

Rrrrrip!

Pain erupted from his left wing and he stumbled. Concentration lost, the cubes dissipated and sank back into his back.

“The thing about a lot of amateur smiths is that they think that they’ll always be at the back of a battle,” Roran said. “But that just means that they don’t know how to use their weapons. They don’t experience the heat of battle or how their weapons could save a life. There’s a difference between forging for a living and forging for a life.”

Roran was slowly approaching and he was quickly summoning another arrow. Wood thought fast. He was nowhere near as fast at forging as the experiencing smith was but he had something else.

“Ferrum Spicae!” he cried and slammed his hand against the ground. Sharp, metal spikes erupted from the ground, tearing through the stone platform and shooting towards Roran like an angry, metal wave.

The burly Tigris let loose two quick arrows before sweeping his paw forward. A huge, metal tower shield appeared in his paw – red and silver as always – and he easily blocked the encroaching spikes even as they buried themselves into the thick metal. Roran easily abandoned the weapon and stepped out from behind the shield.

Just as Wood finished forging his weapons. Even though there were two new holes in his wings, the Draconis had anticipated that Roran would try to get him to move to keep him from forging. The pain was worth finally getting his weapons ready.

“Let’s see you match this!” Wood cried. The chain guns sprang to life, spraying bullets in Roran’s direction. The experienced feline smith swept his paw upwards and a wall of flame burst from the ground in front of him. Only a few bullets made it through the fire before a huge, stylised wall of metal was suddenly in place.

Damn he’s fast!

But that was why Wood had his second pair of mechanical arms over his shoulder. While he kept up the offensive with his chain guns, the arms weaved those blue cubes of matter in front of him. The crowd sat at the edge of their seats. No doubt they could see whatever it was that Roran was building behind that barricade versus his one turret. It took him a whole thirty seconds but he had built a standard beam turret that immediately took aim Roran’s wall and fired.

A searing pillar of light streaked out of the turret, burning right through the metal and striking the far wall. Roran’s fortifications held and the beam hit the barrier around the arena without breaking. For a moment, Wood feared that he had incinerated one of Incendius’ top smiths. Then, as the beam faded, he saw the large hole in the ground.

“Oh…”

A shadow fell over him. He barely had the time to turn around before Roran leapt out of the ground behind him and swung a red and silver blade through the air. Wood squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled back. His rump hit the ground with a whump and his mechanical arms crashed with a thunderous smash.

“That’s always your opening volley, isn’t it?” Roran accused with a faint smirk. “Forge your chain guns, fire away to keep your enemy pinned and then make some turrets to fill the battlefield and overwhelm your foe.”

Speaking of turrets, the beam turret swivelled around but before it could even charge up to fire, Roran threw the sword in his paw straight at it. The blade embedded into its axis. It got stuck turning, unable to fully take aim at the smith.

“You’re stuck in your ways, kid,” the Tigris said. “Never think that you have nothing left to learn. The world is going to keep changing and its requirements are going to change.” He nodded at Wood’s turret. “Hell, your beam turret design is from three years ago during the Fall. Newer designs are sleeker, cheaper and faster.”

Wood grit his fangs together and decided to take advantage of the tiger’s lecture. He flipped up his chain guns and pulled the trigger. Roran was surprisingly fast and nimble for his size and age. The Incendian smith dodged the moment he saw Wood’s arms move. Not to be humiliated like that, the green-scaled Draconis jumped to his feet and immediately began to repair the damage to his mechanical arms. Roran had sliced right through the metal at about the elbow. It wouldn’t take that long to rebuild it.

Roran shook his head at him. “You’re not listening, kid. When one thing doesn’t work, you shouldn’t just keep on the same track until it does.”

He’s right…

Alright, fine! Different tactic!

Wood tossed aside his chain guns which caused Roran to lift an eyebrow in surprise. That eyebrow fell once more in exasperation when the stream of blue cubes formed a fiery-red bow in Wood’s hands complete with a quiver of red arrows over his shoulder.

“I think I see your style now,” sighed Roran. He easily stepped aside when Wood shot an arrow in his direction. “Unoriginal and derivative.”

“What did you say!?” Wood barked, angrily nocking another arrow.

“Do you know who Oren Baltherview is?”

The question struck him from left field and he was a little stunned at it. Fearing another surprise attack, Wood shook the surprise away and remained on edge. Blood dripped from the wounds in his wings and it made him acutely aware he was currently at a disadvantage. But the longer Roran lectured, the more time he had to think of something.

“Of course I do,” he growled. “He’s Incendius’ top 25th ranked smith. He calls himself your rival but he’s always behind you.”

“And do you know why he’ll always be behind me?”

He’s not really looking at me. Now’s my chance.

A stream of blue cubes pooled out of from his Matter Converters. They remained low key and he spread his wings as it trying to air out the wounds. In reality, it kept any of his forging from being seen.

Wood shook his head to answer Roran’s question. “He’s just not that good.”

“No,” answered the Tigris with a pang of disappointment. “Because he copies everything I do and twists it so that it’s the exact opposite. I focus on Fire and Light. He infuses his works with Fire and Darkness. Every one of my designs he just recreates with the opposing element.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Wood countered. “Original ideas are rare if at all impossible these days. Anyone who says that they’ve come up with something original is either just ignorant or a liar. Everything we do is always derived from someone else’s idea.”

“That’s true but when you make your path in the shadow of someone else, it shows through your work. Especially when you tell yourself otherwise.” Roran gestured with his free paw in some arbitrary direction. “Oren claims that his works are original, Baltherview-originals. But everyone can see where his ‘inspiration’ came from. There’s a fine line between imitation and inspiration kid.” He lowered his arm to point it at Wood. “So question is, whose path are you imitating while claiming your work is ‘inspired’ by them?”

That question felt like a flaming dagger had been plunged into Wood’s chest. All his life he had been compared to his mother even though he had picked up his passion for forging weapons on his own. Though he protested to the galas and events that he was dragged into, he always attended them even if he did so defiantly. A glance at his chain guns and the severed mechanical arms and he remembered when he had come up with that combination. It had been while he was watching a Manallium game. One guy had really big arms and his teammate had jumped onto his back. A barrage of fireballs would spring from the player on top while the one on the bottom provided direction and melee protection. The designs for his chain guns were based off his mother’s and the mechanical arms were from one of Haven’s top smiths.

Where is my originality? Where’s my voice in all this?

The doubt was creeping in and he quickly shook it away. “I don’t care what you say! I’m still learning. My designs are original!”

“Oh yeah?” Roran replied, gesturing at the obelisks behind him, the ones Wood had created. “Can you really claim that when all you did was copy my designs with these things? Did you even see the flaw I purposefully introduced into it?”

There was a flaw!?

Roran lifted his bow, levelling his arrow at Wood. “We both know that Rematerializing is really expensive. Those of us who practice Forge Arts are just on the boundaries of Divine Magic, the magic of creation itself. Deomancers are rare because of just how much power is required to fuel their Creation Magic. So you’ve got to ask yourself, if a Combat Smith was to use Rematerializing, where would all that energy come from?”

Red streams of light suddenly erupted from the tips of the obelisks and shot straight towards Roran’s bow and arrow. The weapon erupted in a burst of fire and light, springing up to each be the size of the towering Tigris. Wood staggered back in shock.

He tricked me!

The obelisks were not just barriers to protect the audience from their wayward attacks but they also absorbed those attacks and siphoned it straight to Roran. Too late Wood realised that his beam turret had unleashed an immense amount of power into the magical barrier.

“When you follow a design without questioning it,” Roran warned gravely, “you slip down that slope where you end up making weapons for the wrong kinds of people.”

Another flaming dagger to the heart. Maybe it had been because he had been so star struck by Roran because he was just that dense but the Incendian smith was right. He hadn’t asked what the towers could really be for. He just made them unquestioningly.

“Wood!”

JD’s cry snapped him back to reality and he immediately threw himself to the ground. The huge arrow nearly as long as he was and twice as thick as his arm flew overhead just barely missing his wings. The bright red and silver projectile struck the barrier, immediately being dissolved and absorbed into the energy field only to be fed back to Roran.

He’s got me trapped! If I make any attack that misses, he’ll just absorb it and fuel his own weapons!

Already, Roran was forging another titanic arrow and levelling it at Wood.

No time to think! Just do!

Wood immediately threw his hands up and all four Matter Converters of Quadrant sprang to life, working overtime to cover him in their slightly humming blue cubes. He squeezed his eyes shut. Everything went dark but he heard the loud thunk of the arrow striking his roughly created metal dome.

“Fuck…” he growled to himself, voice echoing in the small enclosure. “What do I do?”

Thunk!

Another attack. The metal creaked and bent around him. Roran was pounding away at his defences. He briefly glanced at the ground and wondered if he could tunnel his way out and strike from behind. The same tactic that Roran had unleashed just a few moments ago. Doubt and disgust battered him just as Roran’s attacks battered his shield.

“Can’t I think of anything unique!?” he bellowed to himself.

Some part of him kept arguing that there was no such thing as an ‘original idea’ but that just sounded like a lie that he told himself to comfort his lack of creativity.

“You call yourself a smith,” he snarled, clutching one side of his head with a hand and digging his claws into his scales. “Roran’s right… You’ve never actually used your weapons in an actual combat except for a few nights ago. You’ve only appropriated other’s designs and put it into different combinations to make it look unique but never built something of your own. Hell, you didn’t even investigate the towers that your opponent put up!

He slapped the side of his head. “Come on! Have the past few years just been a total waste!?”

In his despair, he could not help but think of JD and his weapon of choice, Validation. Tried and true instruments of death and destruction. Crafted masterfully just for the Red Lightning’s use based on a life or death scenario. No one would have ever though to use etherium of all things as an actual assassination tool but JD had. Yes, channelling Force energy to manipulate the atomic structure of etherium was nothing new but JD used it to harden the metal to be as strong as his own willpower and even channel a bit of his Spirit energy into it. That was a true example of what Roran meant.

“Inspiration versus imitation,” he sighed heavily. The thunks had turned into loud clangs and he knew Roran was on the verge of breaking through. “Where is my inspiration?”

“Perhaps the answer is not in other smiths but in yourself.”

The gentle, feminine voice caused him to open his eyes. He was met by blinding light. Did his barrier already break? No. There was something warm about this light. Gentle, welcoming and…inspiring.

“Who…?” he began softly only to realise just what this was. His soul sang out, reaching up in joy at the deity that had created Tower Thirteen and whom all mortals prayed to regardless of whether or not they were devoted to the Church of the Tower.

The Mother Goddess Athena.

“Roran Northridge does not say these words to deride or dishearten you. Take the criticism and learn from it. While original ideas are hard to find in this time of inspired young minds, it should not be a matter of finding something unique that you can call your own.”

A silhouette cut through the golden light. It was something vertical, thin. Wood could not help but reach for it. As his fingers approached it, warmth radiated from it and seeped throughout his entire body. Strength pumped through his veins and his heart leapt for joy.

“Find something that you can call your own, Wood Connors Bladebreaker. Originality is a path dictated by the roads others have taken, forcing you to take the one they have not walked. The true value of a man is not in how original they are but in how they can own the path from the miles walked before them.”

Wood gripped the haft of the weapon. A great fire burned through his entire system, radiating from the Valour. It shot through his arm, blasting through his lungs and came shooting out of his muzzle in a triumphant cry.

“Now shout the name of your path, young Bladebreaker! Your Valour is Vulcan.”

Wood spread his wings, the shell around him shattering like an egg with brilliant, golden light exploding from his emergence back into the world. His metal dome shattered like he was hatching from a cocoon. He immediately got to his feet, throwing his head back and letting out a tremendous roar.

“Pave the way, Vulcan!” he roared.

The single-bladed hand axe in his hand sprang to life. Bright green light like veins sprang up from the green edge of the otherwise jet-black blade. The golden filigree wrapped around the handle of the axe began emitting a soft, golden light. The pommel of the blade erupted with a bright green energy, shooting outwards and stopping about half a foot from the blade. A ghostly silhouette encased the blade itself appearing almost three times the size of the blade but still in the shape of the axe head.

The euphoric high that came with obtaining his Valour quickly faded. Wood regarded the divine weapon, awed at its magnificent yet simplistic design. One could easily mistake it for an average hand axe made of some metal, painted black and green with gold plating to make it look more expensive. But he didn’t care. It was his Valour. This was his path. Whether he followed the roads taken by others before him wouldn’t matter because he would be making the choice to take that route.

He lowered his gaze.

The audience around him was completely stunned. They had come to experience a battle between two smiths but would never have expected one of those smiths to obtain a Valour and take the first step to becoming a Paladin of the Church. This was more than just him obtaining his Valour though. The Mother Goddess bestowed Valours. This was a divine event!

People immediately sprang to their feet, cheering. Even Roran was impressed and lowered his immense bow. The Tigris bowed towards him. As the Incendian smith straightened, he pressed a paw against his chest then bent all fingers save one. He lifted that finger to his lips, giving it a faint kiss before lifting it into the air. The salute of the Church of the Tower for Incendians. All around him, Incendians did the same. Havenese did their variation; crossing their arms across their chest, lifting their dominant hand to their lips and then raising their middle, thumb and pinkie into the air.

Universal praise for the Mother Goddess who had graced them with one of her chosen.

“I think you win,” Roran laughed. “Congratulations, kid.”

Wood beamed and looked towards his side of the arena. Kane was pumping a fist into the air and cheering louder than anyone else. There was even a solemn nod from Kira. But there was a grave look on Rayne’s features and even darker one from Alexander Clarke.

“JD…?” he whispered, realising that the Red Lightning was missing. A boisterous bull and a bookish Tigris were also missing. “Buster? Skye?”

Had they missed his moment? Did they not know that he had received in Valour? Or did they see it and left? He wasn’t sure which one would hurt more.

But the most pressing question was…

Where’d they go?

_ _

Spiritual Scion (Skye)

Yvanir

It had started well before Skye had arrived on Altima Meadows. On the approach to the verdant farmlands, the bespectacled Tigris had started to feel a strange… sensation like someone was brushing the inside of his skull with a feather. It had been easy to ignore as he delved into the books that he had been reading. However, as he drew closer and closer to the mote, the feeling became more and more irritating until he landed. There, he felt it urging him towards the magic shop.

Skye had followed it; the reason he had gone into the store in the first place. A sense of… cautious elation came from the source of the sensation as he reached the shop and when Konseral had offered to buy him something, that feeling pulled him towards a particular book – ‘Wanderer of Smoke’.

And then the whispers began.

“Read it,” it urged.

Unsure if it was his own curiosity or some other force, Skye began poring over the book. It spoke of an entity, Yvanir, that was some sort of ‘Great Spirit’. An entity of immense power and a sort of demigod that was worshiped as some sort of ‘Smoke Spirit’.

When the bouts had started, he was engrossed in the tome as the whispers grew stronger and stronger. The gentle tickle of that other consciousness grew stronger until it was practically scratching at the inside of his skull.

“Free me,” it begged. “Save me! Come!”

It was midway through Wood’s fight just as his friend encased himself in a shell of steel that he couldn’t take it anymore. Skye, eyes wide in pain and sweating profusely, sprang to his feet and rushed away from the crude arena. Blinded partially be tears, he only followed the urgings of the voice into the main complex of the Reaching Flame. No one stood guard as everyone was at the fights.

Despite the Incendian influence of the Reaching Flame, he was distinctly reminded of a Xaosian high-tech facility. There was a lot of open space with the atrium being broad, sweeping and possessing a clear view of all five levels. Each floor was connected by an enormous, asymmetrical staircase made of glass. If one could fight the sense of vertigo when riding the staircase upwards and not being able to clearly see the steps one took, that is. A few Incendian designs came in the form of towering stone pillars with a flaming sun design to it and the silky white banners that hung from banners with the Reaching Flame emblem etched on them. The ceiling was completely made of glass as well with the sigil of the Flame crafted in red glass so that it shone its crimson light directly onto the reception desk.

Despite the open space, the air was oddly still and cold. With everyone watching the fight, the complex was utterly empty. A feeling of isolation was in stark contrast to the message of inter-Station unity that the Flame preached. Even were every member of the charity to come piling into the facility, there would be space enough to spare. Perhaps if some of the citizens of Altima Meadows were to file in then the complex would feel less cold and empty.

“I am here!” pleaded the voice, louder than ever. “Please! Save me!”

Skye grimaced and clutched his head with both paws. “Who are you?” he growled.

“I am trapped! I must be free! Save me!”

He threw his hands back. “Answer me!” he roared into the ceiling.

A gentle paw rested on his shoulder. His instincts immediately went wild and he spun around, knocking the paw away in shock. A tongue of flame sprang up from his right paw and a spear of ice in the other. His heart almost leapt out from his chest but he almost instantaneously relaxed when he noticed that the paw belonged to JD and behind him was Buster.

“Guys…” he sighed.

“What’s gotten into you?” Buster asked, genuinely concerned. “JD was about to make a break for it and start looking around when you dropped your book and went racing off.”

“And from what little I know about you,” added the Red Lightning, handing him the tome, “you would never leave a book behind even though they are bulky and ungainly.”

Skye offered the two a shaky smile, touched as he was at their concern. “I just like the idea of turning a page with my own fingers. Something… satisfying about it instead of swiping or scrolling.” He took the book and sighed. “Thanks…”

“You still haven’t answered Buster’s question. What’s wrong, Skye?”

The young Tigris shook his head. The voice returned, rattling at the recesses of his skull and almost filling his entire brain with the incessant pleading. “I… I don’t know.”

“Try us,” Buster said. The big, black Bovios reached forward and gently grasped Skye’s right paw. “We’ve been buds for years now. Talk to me, Skye. This isn’t like you.”

Pursing his lips together and winced. “I… It’s… There’s this voice in my head. It started when we were getting to Altima. Got stronger when we landed. It told me to pick up this book.” He held up the tome he was holding. “Seemed to be really excited when I did. Now it’s telling me to come here.” He turned around, peering at the vast complex. “It’s telling me to free him. But I don’t even know what ‘he’ is.”

He could feel Buster’s hesitance in the grip the bull hand on his paw.

This is what I’m scared of… I don’t want to be alone again…

“It’s Yvanir the Great Spirit of Smoke.”

Those words shocked him and he spun around to give JD a startled stare. “What?”

“Yeah, what he said,” Buster replied. “Ee-vahn-neer?”

The military assassin gave Skye a suspicious look. “I perused that book on the way here and snuck in glances while you were reading it. It talks about one of the ‘Great Spirits’ that supposedly helped the Apostle of Fire, Adramalech, make the world. Yvanir was supposed to be the Great Spirit of Smoke and was known for wandering constantly. His presence often caused great plumes of smoke which led to the debunking of the old idiom ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire’ because…”

“Yvanir could cause smoke without an actual flame,” Skye finished, nodding excitedly. JD’s words were bringing him back from the brink of insanity. Yvanir’s pleading was fading into the background as he spoke with the Red Lightning. “Please… what else do you know?”

JD exchanged glances with Buster and shrugged. “I didn’t read much to be honest…”

“He knows nothing! Free me and I will tell you all!”

Skye grit his teeth together. Every word the Great Spirit uttered was a serrated, rusty blade against his very consciousness. “Ah!” he gasped, falling to his knees.

“Skye!” Buster cried, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the facility. “What’s wrong man? Speak to me!”

“Keep telling me things,” he pleaded. “Get my mind stimulated. Make me think! Yvanir… he keeps speaking to me and it’s like he’s giving me a lobotomy from the inside of my skull!”

“Free me and I will stop!”

Buster looked desperately towards JD who could only shake his head helplessly. “Uhm… Uh… the Incendius Incinerators are going to stop by our Pinnacle branch the week after we start there,” offered the Bovios lamely.

“That doesn’t help!”

“Hault Frievor and the rest of the Aspirant Team is supposed to be coming in to inspire us to think of a career in Manallium and possibly to join the Incinerators!” Buster exclaimed.

That sent a flame in Skye’s heart and a blazing beacon of light cut through the shrouds of Yvanir’s influence. If there was something he was passionate about apart from magic and studies it was Manallium. A growl slipped between his clenched fangs.

“That preening, pompous prick!?” he snarled, lifting his gaze towards Buster. “He’s all hot air! The only reason he got into the Aspirant Team was because his father paid for him to be there! He has no discernible talent whatsoever and can barely use the one element he is good at! His footwork is sloppy, he has little to no special awareness and every few seconds, he’s glancing at the screens to see if he’s being featured! He’s so up himself that he’ll never get past being a trainee!”

It was working. Yvanir had no idea what he was talking about and the confused Spirit of Smoke was pushed back from Skye’s consciousness.

“Uh… yeah,” Buster offered lamely. “I guess so.” Feeling Skye’s critical gaze on him, the bull could only say, “You know I’m not actually into Manallium. I just know the rules and the names.”

That was the opportunity that Yvanir needed and he pounced.

“Stop wasting time! Free me!”

Skye only realised that the ghastly, gravelly voice that had echoed in his mind had also come out of his own lips. Buster recoiled in shock. Then he grunted and closed one eye while clutching his head with one hand.

“Free me now!”

All too late, he realised that Buster was now also being compelled by the Great Spirit.

No… Buster! I’m so sorry! I can’t…

He swung a paw through the air. A blast of hot air slammed into both his friends, pushing them back away from him.

“Get away from me!” he pleaded. “Yvanir is too strong! He’s taking over!”

“I have waited long enough! If you will not free me of your own volition, I will make you!”

His limbs moved of their own accord. The very air he breathed was like ash and smoke that seeped into his veins and charred his bones black. The immense power of the Great Spirit flowed into him to the point where he felt like he was going to explode. He needed to move; burn off the excess energy before it turned him into ash!

Then, he felt cold metal against his neck and the flames of Yvanir’s influence immediately faded. He felt fear from the Great Spirit and it reflected in his own eyes. JD stood a couple of feet away levelling a sword he had never seen before at his neck. The weapon looked almost like a Valour. Its blade was perfectly gold with a black handle and pommel. A handless clock face made up the base of the blade and several spokes radiated out of the circular guard.

“You know this blade, Yvanir,” JD warned, his voice low and threatening.

Yvanir’s voice shook as it spoke through Skye’s throat.

“Timekeeper…”

It occurred to Skye that the blade was connected to a golden chain – the same golden chain that had been wrapped around JD’s chest and hidden beneath his jacket.

Was he always keeping that secret weapon with him?

The sword was actually shorter than Validation and thicker. It looked heavier too. More like a standard longsword built for slashing instead of Validation’s precision piercing.

“That’s right,” uttered the Red Lightning. “You know what this sword has done.”

Skye’s lips peeled back into a snarl out of his own control. “How did you come to obtain it!? The owner is long dead!”

JD pursed his lips and took a moment to consider the question. “It was a gift.”

“Who gave it to you!? It was lost during the Fall!”

What is this sword? Skye wondered mentally. The question reignited his curiosity and he realised that Yvanir’s fear allowed him to quickly wrest control from the Great Spirit.

“JD, please! What’s with the sword?” he pleaded. “I need to know! Argh!” Yvanir was fighting back. He could only control his lips and eyes but the rest of his body was still firmly in the Great Spirit’s control.

The Red Lightning never let his stare waver. “Timekeeper was the sword that belonged to the Last Chronomancer. It was used to shatter the spire of Chrysalis that held Haven down. It was given to me… by Haamiah, the God of Time… as a sign of my rank as his Champion.”

Yvanir let out a thunderous laugh. “You lie, boy! Haamiah has never taken a Champion!”

There was a loud, gong-like sound. The asymmetrical red and white of the Reaching Flame vanished and was immediately replaced by a field of constantly spinning, golden cogs. Skye – or rather Skye being influenced by Yvanir – fell to his knees as they both stared past JD and to the throne beyond. Buster gawked and slowly turned. When he saw the floating entity on the throne, he let out a cry of shock and fell onto his back.

“What the hell!?” he cried.

“I have long learned, Yvanir,” uttered Haamiah, slowly lifting off his seat, “that inaction is often as destructive as the wrong decision. I may not have taken a Champion in the past but I do so now and Jack Denver Clarke is my chosen.”

JD sighed and lowered his blade, Timekeeper. He growled softly and glanced over his shoulder. “I had this, you know.”

“Perhaps but you would have spent over an hour trying to convince the Great Spirit of your true role as my Champion. Yvanir may be known as the Wanderer but he is equally as stubborn as the Seraph that he was spawned from. It would have taken another thirty minutes to discuss what Yvanir wants which would have led to your discovery by the Reaching Flame_. Loss of life would have followed.”_

The Red Lightning sighed and swung the blade through the air. The golden blade retracted into the guard, the spokes sliding into itself. The grip split in two and acted very much like a very large butterfly knife to encompass the retracted blades. JD tucked the blade behind his jacket once again only revealing the golden chain.

“You would interfere now?” Yvanir whispered. “The great immovable God of Time meddling in mortal affairs?”

“Yvanir,” sighed the God, “had you been more observant and not so busy looking for the next road to travel, the next adventure, you would have seen that I have been interfering for countless millennia. Unlike the others, I prefer to act in short subtle ways that empower others instead of grand gestures that remind others that I still exist.”

Yvanir huffed loudly and seemed to turn his back to Haamiah. This gave Skye some breathing room. The air smelled fresh again instead of the acrid, peppery smoke that seemed to permeate the air and fill his lungs. It seemed that this great, overwhelming spirit could not stand the presence of the God. Though he had to question how someone like JD could play host to the God of Time.

“You mistake our relationship, Skye King,” Haamiah said suddenly. “I am not a parasite that leeches off Jack Clarke’s essence. Other Gods may have used their Champions as mortal instruments to their will but for us, it is the opposite.”

“Haamiah is the reason why I tend to ‘know’ things and react way faster than would seem possible,” JD explained. “I ask him for help and he comes in, stops time, and gives me assistance. Sometimes, he offers his help without me asking but it’s only when things are really getting bad or he find something extremely funny.” He glanced towards the God. “I’m guessing it’d be terrible if you’re exposing yourself to others.”

“Indeed. Wood Bladebreaker has been granted a Valour_.”_

Skye straightened in shock and Buster – who was just getting to his feet – stumbled back onto his rump in shock. Yvanir flung back around in terror, hissing loudly and once again filling Skye’s nostrils with that awful smoky sensation. JD’s eyes dropped sorrowfully.

“H – H – He got a Valour?” Buster stammered. “Holy shit! How!?”

“His determination to forge his own path earned him the right,” Haamiah answered. “But let us turn to the here and now.” He turned fully towards Skye and the Tigris was exposed to those alien, golden eyes. “Yvanir is one of the ‘Great Spirits’ of legend. As Time marches on, people change. As they change, they ‘shed’ parts to themselves. Old grudges, fanciful crushes or fleeting fancies will all be turned aside. Spirit energy is the power of emotions, thought, personality, memory. When you let go of a fragment of yourself as Time passes, what becomes of these shed parts?”

“I think I understand what you’re getting at,” Skye said. “There’s a theory that – argh!”

Yvanir filled his throat with smoke causing him the splutter and spill out a black miasma from between his lips.

“We have no time for your long-winded explanations!” barked the Great Spirit through Skye’s muzzle even though it felt stuffed with cotton. “Those fragmented parts linger in space. They become infused in the surroundings. For powerful entities such as the Seraphs – or the Apostles as you call them – they are too powerful to merely remain as a memory. They gain sentience, power, individuality. That is what we are. I am the Great Spirit of Smoke, I was the God of Fire’s wanderlust and sense of adventure.

“And now I am trapped! This is an affront to my very nature! Free me!”

Buster once again got to his feet. “Hey buddy, don’t you think it’s kind of ironic that you want to be freed and yet you’re trapping Skye right now?”

Haamiah let out a chuckle while Yvanir visibly recoiled at the retort. It was clear that Yvanir was not one to give much thoughts to his actions. That gave Skye an opening, a vulnerability. The Miasman Tigris peered into the intricate lattice that made up the Great Spirit’s very essence. Where most people had a great mix of Force and Spirit energy, Yvanir was just Spirit. Skye saw the ethereal energy as luminescent strings in people but to him, Yvanir was just a constantly glowing, shining mass.

Yvanir appeared like a floating cloak with its hood up a little like Haamiah only without the wings and with the cloak spread open to reveal a smoky nothingness within. Yvanir’s skeletal, gangly hands were also visible past the sleeves. Two burning coals perched within the hood’s confines to indicate the creature’s attention.

The Great Spirit was hovering over him, powerful strings of light pinned into his flesh and dictating his every movement. He tentatively tried to pull at the strings, tried to sever them but they were too strong. His skills at manipulation Spirit energy was nowhere near as strong as the Spirit’s. Even trying to touch one of the ephemeral cords sent a jarring pain through his mind that only caused the cords to wind further with his essence.

“The more you come in contact with it, the more Yvanir will gain control over you.”

Skye jolted though it was only a mental act. Haamiah suddenly stood beside him even though the God was still hovering behind JD and seemingly conversing with Yvanir. The entire world had obtained a thick, grey haze. Similar to when he peered at the world to see the Spirit energy except there was a fog that obscured everything beyond a certain point.

“What…?” he began mentally, his physical muzzle moving under Yvanir’s control. “How…?”

“I am the God of Time, Skye King. Creating multiple instances of myself in a single timeline is not so odd.”

The pain of hosting the Great Spirit was growing stronger and stronger. An intense burning continued to sear his insides like every second Yvanir shared his body ate away at his very soul to feed the overwhelming fire of the Great Spirit. What little might he could muster was quickly fading. Yvanir was already looking for another host and those fiery, hungry eyes were turned straight towards Buster.

“I… I can’t keep this up,” Skye wept, hot tears streaming down his face only the evaporate a second later to sting his eyes again. “He’s too strong!”

“If you think this is strong, you should see him at his fullest. This is merely a fragment of the Great Spirit that he has managed to smuggle through the container that holds him.”

Skye gave the God of Time a horrified look. “What does he want?”

“Freedom,” answered Haamiah enigmatically. “Thus, if you would seek to be rid of him from your body, you must deny him the one thing that he desires the most.”

The Tigris squeezed his eyes shut. The intense, suffocating smoke was growing more and more intense, closing in around him and threatening to consume him. Even the glow of Haamiah was fading into the black fog.

“I don’t know what I need to do,” he begged. “Please, tell me!”

“He wants freedom, Skye,” Haamiah repeated. “Pulling at those strings pulls him closer to you.”

Like a lightbulb springing on in his mind, Skye’s eyes snapped open and he let out a gasp. “Of course!” With what little strength he had left, he grasped the puppet strings winding themselves around his limbs and very soul. Just the mere touch caused them to dig deeper into his essence, filling him with an intense pain akin to a thousand, miniscule spears driving themselves into his heart. Fighting through the pain, he pulled the ethereal bonds into himself, winding the threads into his soul and letting them permeate his very being.

Yvanir flinched.

“What are you doing, child!?” he hollered.

“If you think I’m going to let you just take over my body only to cast it aside and hurry my friends, you’ve got another thing coming!” Skye growled through bared fangs. “You are never going to leave my body!”

The Great Spirit of Smoke recoiled which gave Skye a moment of control over his own limbs once more. One eye shut in focus, he lifted his gaze towards JD and Buster.

“Guys, I’m going to hold Yvanir down! You’ve got to kill me!”

Buster took a step back in horror. “What!? Bro, no!”

“It’s the only way!” Skye roared. “There’s still so much of him contained somewhere in this facility. But I’ve got the part of him that managed to escape in me right now! If we destroy him here and now, he’ll be too weak to escape and threaten anyone again!”

Yvanir wrested control from him once more. “Do not listen to him! The child would sacrifice his life for nothing! I am eternal! Destroying this fragment of myself will be meaningless! I will merely grow stronger and escape!”

“He’s lying!” sneered Skye, seeing through the Great Spirit’s desperation. “He’s a wanderer and a creature of smoke. Without the capacity to travel or a source of smoke, he is never going to get stronger!”

“Fool!” screamed the raging Spirit. “You would sacrifice yourself for some concept of ‘nobility’!? I would live on even were I trapped. You have but one life and you would waste it on this_!?”_

With Yvanir’s attention turned directly to him, Skye could focus on the Spirit more. Keen, analytical eyes peered into the Spirit, saw its intricate and incredibly complex weaving patterns of energy and the ancient soul that was at the core of this creature. It was linked to another, an even older being – a creature of fire, regret, guilt and everlasting sorrow which appalled the Great Spirit. Unwilling to be lost and compartmentalised in the God of Fire’s memories, the Great Spirit had split from Adramalech and become an entity of its own fuelled by a sense of adventure that the God had once possessed.

This realisation empowered him to make his next reply.

“I would rather die free than live on as a slave.”

Those words struck home for the Yvanir. The tendrils that had wrapped around Skye’s soul loosened and slowly began to unwind. The shaman was finally able to breathe of his own accord again with the acrid smoke that filled his lungs vanishing. The dark smog that had surrounded his vision faded. Yvanir retreated, sliding away into the retreating darkness and leaving Skye exhausted. The Tigris fell to his knees. JD and Buster rushed to his side.

“Dude, are you okay?” Buster asked worriedly.

Skye quickly scanned the Bovios’ frame, searching for any traces of the Great Spirit. Nothing. With a relieved smile, he nodded.

JD seemed to be scanning him too with his paw wrapped around Timekeeper tightly and ready to strike. “What happened?”

“Skye King threatened Yvanir with the one thing that he feared the most,” Haamiah answered solemnly. “And drove home the point that he would be inflicting the same fate upon him that Char had inflicted upon the Spirit. Yvanir realised his mistake and retreated.”

Skye felt the warm blow of Buster’s magic flooding through him, repairing his cells, refilling his physical energy reserves. The damage to his soul, however, would take some time to heal. Still, he was grateful that the Spirit was gone… for now.

“Why me?” he asked softly. “Why did he pick me? There are thousands of people here on Altima Meadows. Why me?”

“Because of your sensitivity to Spirit Energy,” answered Haamiah. “There are few who could peer into the very flow of Spirit around them and even fewer who would be willing to dabble directly in it. The teachings of the Church and the very nature of the Illuminus Weizar dictate that use of Spirit is prohibited so, very much like a muscle that has not been used, the general population’s ability to use this resource and form a connection with Yvanir has been lost.” The God of Time looked to JD. “I see what you are thinking. Jack is skilled at weaponizing his own Spirit energy but not sensing it in others. He still has to make educated guesses when striking at opponents with Rupture.” Then he turned towards Buster. “Your own connection with Buster Wilde is what brought him to the brink of being controlled by Yvanir as well.”

Buster flinched away from Skye. “Whoa! Me!?”

“Spirit energy is all about emotions, memories and the soul, right?” Skye answered with an exhausted smile. “My friendship with you must’ve been like a highway between us that Yvanir could’ve taken. I guess if he had fully taken over me, he could’ve taken over all my loved ones as well using that method… He’d be like… a virus.”

In the edges of his mind, he could feel Yvanir thrashing but at the same time he felt an odd… presence there as well. Haamiah was protecting him. He smiled gratefully up at the God of Time who only nodded faintly.

“The question remains,” Skye said, rising to his feet. He staggered a little and Buster caught him. “What is Yvanir doing here?”

Haamiah hovered through the air. The twisting cogs and gears of his world vanished and they were returned to the atrium of the Reaching Flame. The God of Time came to rest next to the large, crystal statue of the Reaching Flame’s emblem. “The answer rests here.” He pointed at the very foot of the edifice, particularly at the plaque. Skye hobbled over there, Buster helping him walk.

The plaque read, ‘In commemoration of our everlasting pledge to give warmth and light to all those in need. No matter the distance, we will reach out to the others and provide them with the flame of hope.’

“There’s something about this,” JD muttered, running his paw over the plaque. “I’ve never seen a plaque where the letters were raised instead of carved in. Unless they put it on backwards and… ah!”

His fingers rested on the ‘everlasting’ part of the plaque and pushed it slightly. The entire word pushed in and a soft rumble filled the atrium. The entire statue rumbled backwards, sliding back to reveal a hidden stairwell.

“Ruh-roh,” Buster rumbled.

Yvanir’s presence was stronger down the stairs than on ground level and the Great Spirit roiled in anticipation of his immanent discovery and freedom. Skye was hesitant to proceed but his innate curiosity and the strange, red glow emanating from deep within was far too tempting to pass up. Weakened as he was, he was the first to press forward down the steps.

Haamiah slipped in front of him, barring his way. “A word of warning. The laboratory before you is bound directly to Char. Should he perish, so too will the lab. Similarly, merely setting foot inside will alert him to your presence.”

“So… if I stab him with Timekeeper…” JD ventured, levelling the golden blade at the first step. Buster immediately snatched the blade from him. “What? I wasn’t going to actually do it.” The Red Wulfun glanced off to the side. “Though I have often wondered what it’d be like to stab someone from the inside…”

The God of Time ignored his Champion’s quip and hovered aside to give Skye passage. “Just be aware.”

Buster gave him a curious look. “You’re a God, right? Can’t you just wave your hands and make him not aware or something?”

JD suddenly strode past them both, boldly striding down the steps while retrieving Timekeeper from Buster. “Our world doesn’t need more reliance on Gods. Just like how reliance on the Church and its doctrine contributed to the Fall of Haven, I refuse to constantly call on Haamiah.” He glanced over his shoulder. There was something inspiring about how JD could boldly stride ahead of a God and even seemingly lead him. “Remember how I told you I made a promise never to lie? That promise was with Haamiah. He’ll help me when I ask for it and I’d never lie to others. Doesn’t mean that he’ll do exactly what I want but he’ll help me in the end. Same way that I won’t always tell the whole truth.”

A promise with a God… I wonder what that’s like.

Skye, regaining his strength thanks to Buster’s constant healing, straightened and followed JD down into the depths of the laboratory. One glance back and he noticed that Haamiah had vanished though he had to wonder if the God of Time really was there or just projecting through JD. He turned his attention to the encompassing warm glow that beat and pulsated like a heartbeat.

The flight of stairs was short, just about three storeys down and led into a vast warehouse-like basement area. Towering capsules filled with murky, red liquid were neatly arranged in rows with strange, purplish-black, organic veins crawling all over their surfaces akin to vines. The veins all led to warped and twisted pipes that gathered towards a central structure. Lifting his gaze, Skye noted that this structure was a large black chamber where the dull yet still strong red glow was emanating from. Stabilizer rings surrounded the ebony pillar, keeping it afloat and simultaneously containing the Great Spirit bound within. Every so often, there was a sliver of smoke that would lance out of the black rock only to be snapped back by the magic of the rings.

“That’s where Yvanir is being kept,” Skye exclaimed, striding towards the stone.

“How in the world did a Great Spirit of ‘Smoke’ get trapped inside a rock?” JD asked. “Unless Char somehow found a way to solidify smoke in which case I have several follow up questions. Two of which is how can I replicate it and can I use it to traumatise my uncle from smoking.” When given a puzzled look, he elaborated by saying, “Kane’s dad is chain smoker. Never goes anywhere without his cigar. The downfall of universal health care and regenerative magic is that it allows people to involve themselves in reckless behaviour like smoking or unprotected sex with complete strangers with little consequence.”

Buster gave him a sly smile. “Still miffed about your dad getting fucked by Roran, huh?”

“I’m not going to be able to look at any surface in my house again without wondering if my dad or Roran have done it there!?” JD exclaimed, dragging his claws across his face.

“Has anyone ever told you to act your age, JD? Because you’re more of the dad than your dad is.”

JD shot Buster a piercing look but the Bovios seemed to have developed some resistance to the Wulfun’s laser-like stare. Skye let them have their discussion and looked towards the giant, hovering stone. Roughly cut and about three times as big as he was, the stone had an inky, reflective black surface. Strange markings were all over the surface Yvanir had attempted to scrawl messages for help in different languages. They had all become mixed over time. He could sense the hatred radiating from the words as well. Yvanir felt his curiosity and tried to reach out but his defences had already been erected and the Spirit recoiled before touching them.

“How did you get stuck in there…?” he whispered softly.

A cry erupted from behind him and he whirled around, fearing the presence of Char. Instead, Buster was once again on his ass and pointing at one of the glass surfaces, his eyes wide in horror.

“H – Holy shit! W – What is that thing!?”

Curiosity burned within Skye and he hurried over alongside JD. They both peered into the red murk. He caught sight of a silhouette of a creature. It was roughly humanoid but there were significant differences. His eyes boggled it floated closer to the glass on some bizarre orbit.

“Animortis!” he cried, backpedalling from the sight. “There’s Animorti stuck in there!”

“What?” Buster asked.

JD strode boldly towards the glass and pressed a paw against the surface. The horribly disfigured, emaciated creature hovered by. “It’s what happens when someone tries to cast a spell and then cancel it midway but can’t sustain the backlash.” The creature’s flesh was completely blackened with horrible, red veins pressed up against its skin and letting out a glow. “The spell becomes infused within their physical bodies, turning their flesh into living embodiments of that magic.”

“It’s kind of like when you hold a piece of leather really long and really tight,” explained Skye. “Then someone cuts it and the leather snaps back and hits you, leaving a permanent scar. The impact of the ‘scarring’ is based on just how much you’ve invested in the spell.” He tried to see the rest of the corpse-like creature’s body and winced at the sight of its blackened feet. “These Animorti must’ve cast an incredibly powerful spell if they were hit like this.”

A loud, booming voice erupted from the entrance making all three boys flinch.

“Or their bodies were purposefully converted into vessels for raw magical energies!”

Char the Cleanser, one of Konseral’s many advisors, stood at the entrance to the laboratory. Just seeing him made Skye’s skin crawl and his fur stand on end. There was something unnerving about his unusually wide smile. That grin of his consumed the entirety of his lower face like someone had taken two hooks and pulled back the corners of his lips to reveal the flesh, gums and teeth beneath.

“I was wondering who amongst your little ragtag band of children would try and discern the truth,” said the robed man. “I was completely against Roran reaching out to you but Konseral thought it was an excellent opportunity to maintain the faith of the workers. I cannot argue with him there. That little show was quite enthralling. The fact that the Draconis obtained a Valour also instilled a great deal of confidence in our dear leader’s decisions.”

“What have you done to these people!?” Skye demanded, waving a paw at the countless tubes and capsules that rested around them.

“This is what happens when people amongst the Reaching Flame reach the 14th Quatlum by donating all of their worldly possessions and severing all other ties in order to achieve enlightenment,” JD exclaimed in a mocking, airy voice reminiscent of religious infomercials.

“Nice,” Buster snickered, holding out a fist. The two of them bumped their knuckles briefly which clearly annoyed Char.

“Mock if you must,” sneered the Cleanser. “These individuals have ascended to the next stage of their evolution!”

“And at the 15th Quatlum they shall achieve transcendence to godhood!” JD cried.

Buster gently patted JD’s head. “That’s enough puppy. You’re making the psycho red-head angry.”

Skye briefly wondered if this was going to be the dynamic if the Red Lightning and his beefy friend were ever in combat together. JD’s sarcasm and over-the-top antics mixed with Buster’s social commentary would both disarm and infuriate their opponents.

Mother Goddess, there really is two of them now…

Ignoring their jibes, Char continued. “You mortal fools treat magic gingerly instead of embracing it. What you fail to understand is that the state of becoming an Animortis should be celebrated and venerated! Not reviled! These people were willing to risk their mind, body and soul towards a spell and were rewarded for it!” Char’s unsightly grin only seemed to grow broader. “At least, so one would believe.”

Before either JD or Buster could say anything, Skye stepped forwards and placed a paw over their muzzles. He did not want Char’s explanation to be interrupted by their mockery.

“It is believed that to become an Animortis, one must cast a spell of great magnitude and then cancel it. One half of the energy goes to the unfinished spell but the other half, already converted into magic, flings back to the user. The mortal body cannot convert magic back into Force or Spirit without specialised spells. But the crux of the transformation rests with someone being infused with magic. That is how one becomes an Animortis.”

Skye glanced over his shoulder at the stone that was holding Yvanir and the tendrils that spring from it. At first he thought that something was being sapped from the people in the tubes and fed to Yvanir to keep him sustained. But now…

“You’re using the Great Spirit’s energies to convert these people into Animorti!”

Buster yanked his muzzle away from Skye’s paw, glanced towards the stone and then the capsules. “What? You’re shitting me.”

“Why?” JD demanded. “You said it yourself, you can’t convert magic back to Force or Spirit energy without specialised spells, spells you’re clearly not implementing if you’re turning these people into Animorti. When people become Animorti, they lose all sense of self. Magic cannot exist in this world without Force or Spirit to fuel it so when these things are released, they’ll only crave…” JD’s features suddenly soured. “Ooooh… I get it now.”

The big, black Bovios cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”

“Zombie army,” JD answered with exasperation.

“Zombie army!?” cried Buster.

Skye had also come to the same conclusion, albeit sooner. “The Animorti will only crave to rejuvenate their lost Force and Spirit reserves. They become living embodiments of a certain spell, a spell that is constantly active. Unless they can absorb more Force or Spirit, they’ll just die out. You’re going to unleash them all on Altima Meadows!”

Char threw his head back, letting out an unholy, high-pitched cackle that was unfitting for his wide grin. “Such simple-minded fools. We have greater plans for these wretches than a simple, mindless army.” He cast his burning stare back at them. “Though we clearly won’t be achieving that now that you are here. Even were I to kill you, your disappearance would cause an investigation and this entire operation would be foiled.” He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner. “Such a pity. I had hope to get more out of Yvanir but he has proved to be quite resistant.”

The Cleanser lifted a hand towards them. “No matter. I will at least have the pleasure of killing the Red Lightning and two of his meddling companions.”

A loud hiss erupted from the many, many tubes resting around them. A door, invisible previously, sprang open and the vile red liquid came rushing out. Buster gave a cry of surprise and immediately pulled both JD and Skye away from the spreading pool. The blackened Animorti came tumbling out.

“Gross, gross, gross, gross!” whimpered the bull.

“You’re a warrior capable of modifying your entire body with your mind and magic and you think that’s gross?” JD asked.

“I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve danced in someone’s entrails before!”

The Red Lightning shrugged. “Fair point.”

A loud gasp erupted from the closest Animortis. It struggled to its feet, its vaguely human-shape looking so skeletal it was a wonder how it managed to prop itself up at all. A loud crackling followed its attempt to lift its head. Instead of eyes, there were only sunken eye sockets with a burning red blaze within. Its jaw sprang open, the same unholy light burning within. A raspy cry emerged from deep within the recesses of its throat.

JD brandished Timekeeper, striding to the front of the group even as more of the Animorti started emerging from their vats and surrounding them. “This would be an awesome time for the magic-hungry undead to realise that the grinning maniac that created them probably has more magical potential than the previously possessed shaman, the unarmed bull and the magically-crippled wolf.”

The Animorti began their approach, claw-like hands reaching out for them.

“Didn’t think it’d be that easy,” grunted the Red Lightning.

He suddenly vanished, appearing behind one of the farthest Animorti. Instead of stabbing the creature with his golden blade, however, he rushed past the beast and jumped onto one of the vats. He swung the sword, slicing through one of the pipes and severing one of the parts that was not crawling with red veins.

“Buster! Catch!”

While still in the air, he kicked the pipe in the bull’s direction. Buster seized it easily enough and hefted it over his shoulder like he would normally with Broadside.

“Beggars can’t be choosers!” he exclaimed and swung the long pipe at the Animorti. None of the creatures were intelligent enough to dodge and were swept aside easily.

Skye began to muster his strength, reaching to the pools of his depleted energy. But the battle against Yvanir had exhausted him to the point where he couldn’t even lift himself off the ground as was his usual battle stance. With much of his power still invested into his mental defences against the Great Spirit, he couldn’t conjure a simple flame to defend himself.

Wait! That’s it!

He peered at the Animorti around him and saw the same threads that had once tried to take over him. Somehow, they had been severed from Yvanir but still radiated with his same magical imprint. One of the skeletal creatures lunged at him and he immediately turned back around and seized its crusty face. Just the mere contact was enough to get the link he needed. The magical threads peeled away from the Animortis’ frame, the glowing red veins all over his body losing their radiance and the burning coals that were its eyes fading into darkness. Its limbs locked into place, stiffening as the magical energies that had kept it moving were drained straight into Skye’s paws. With nothing holding it in place, the blackened flesh disintegrated into black ash, falling to the ground in a dead pile.

For his part, Skye felt the incredible strength of the Great Spirit fill him once more but this time, it was under his control. He let out a gasp as every cell in his body was once again filled with an incredible fire. All this strength from just one Animortis was incredible. The most intense gym session could do nothing to rival the full-body pump that he felt. Even without uttering the right spell, his body lifted off the ground, suspended by the raw energies radiating out of him.

Char the Cleanser inclined his head curiously at the sigh. “A shaman. One that is very skilled at magical energies. Enough to drain the power right out of an Animortis and convert it into his own strength even if that power is already entangled in a spell.” Strange, black flames with edges of burning red burst from around his contrasting white robes. “This will be problematic.” He lifted off the ground, a fiery globe surrounding him but thin enough so that he was able to see his targets. “Very well. Seems this requires a… personal touch.” He lifted one hand towards Skye. “You shall be cleansed!”

Those black and red flames coalesced around his palm, dancing over his claw-like fingernails. They launched outwards with a deafening roar, streaking towards Skye in the shape of a focused lance.

Skye felt the movement of the magical energies even with his eyes closed. He straightened in the air and lifted his paws, erecting magical barriers around himself and Buster to protect them. Too late did he realise that these were no ordinary flames. The black lance struck his barrier, bright crystal hexagons appearing from the impact. A sound of shattering glass immediately followed as the lance cut through the barrier easily. He let out a cry and stumbled to his side, gasping in pain as the fiery spell sliced through his flank.

“I am Char the Cleanser!” cried the advisor. “I am a Confessor of the Custodia Goetia! All shall wither in the face of my flames! All. Shall. Be. Cleansed!”

Crimson bolts arced behind Char and there was glimmer of gold. JD, now behind Char, swung Timekeeper. The Animorti suddenly lunged at the red Wulfun, crawling all over one another in a rapid rush, seemingly merging into a single pillar of burnt flesh and throbbing veins that interposed themselves between Char and the assassin. JD’s slash only bit into blackened skin to no effect. Several gaunt limbs shot out from the pile and seized JD, pulling him into their mess.

“You are a master of surprise, Red Lightning,” laughed the Confessor. “But you are weak against an opponent that already knows of your presence. In head-to-head combat, you can only defend and look for what few openings your opponents will grant you.” He lifted a finger, waggling it tauntingly and clucking his tongue. “And one severe weakness of shukuchi; it is designed to move only yourself. Were you to find yourself grappled by someone, you are completely incapable of using it.”

JD grit his fangs together, swinging Timekeeper in a desperate attempt to break free of the clawing hands that were digging into his flesh and pulling him deeper into their mass. Buster was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Skye could only lift himself further into the air, desperate not to be caught in the horde of Animorti that seemed utterly endless.

No… What do we do!?

He sensed Char preparing for another attack. Scanning his knowledge of spells, he couldn’t identify the that black, fiery lance that had been launched at him. It had come at him so fast! There was no time to deduce its inner workings! He could try to defend against the next barrage but there was no guarantee that it would be the same spell.

“Let Yvanir in.”

Time slowed. Char lifted his hands towards Skye, black and red flames swirling around his fingertips forming five distinct little orbs. JD swung his blade, blood streaking across his chest where the claws of the Animorti raked across his flesh. Buster spun around, swinging his pipe only for one of the fallen vessels to latch onto his leg and send him tumbling to the ground.

Above it all, hovered Haamiah.

“What?” Skye asked, his voice clearly not reaching the others around him as they slowly fought their own battles.

“You have shown you are capable of standing up against the Great Spirit. You have something he wants and you need his strength to defeat Char.”

“Can’t you save us?”

Haamiah shook his head. “It is just as Jack said. You should not become reliant on me.” Somehow, he sensed a warm smile radiating from the God of Time. “Athena believed that all mortals have the strength within them to overcome even the Gods themselves. Prove her right. Prove that you can overcome even a Great Spirit, a fragment of a God.”

Skye squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t! He could take over me! Then what!?”

“Skye King,” said the deity gently. “You have long sought knowledge from books, reports and research, yes?”

“Yeah. I’m the top of my class…”

“You are the best at committing the discoveries of others to memory.” Those words struck hard and deep and Skye lifted his gaze in surprise. His eyes met with the God of Time. “Have faith in your own abilities. Surge forward and discover the world through your eyes and not through the words of others. There will always be something lost in translation, after all.”

Skye shut his eyes, shaking from head to toe and with his whiskers on edge. He let out a fearful cry… and shattered the defences surrounding his mind. Yvanir immediately pounced and the world went utterly black. So close to the Great Spirit, the suffocating smoke permeated almost every part of him. He let it. Tempted as he was to pull the same trick he had pulled against Yvanir the last time, he knew it would not work this time.

No… I’m not going to fight you in this.

The Great Spirit chuckled haughtily. “Would you make a pact then? I shall save your comrades and then you give me your body in turn?”

For some reason, Skye immediately thought of JD’s snarky response if it came to that. The Red Lightning would likely have said something like, ‘If you were going to save us, could you at least have done it using a cliché that isn’t amongst the Top-Ten-Noble-Sacrifices-List?’

“I won’t become your puppet,” he announced defiantly. “I won’t let you steal my body away either.”

“Would you rather your friend die, then? Haamiah cannot keep time suspended indefinitely, you know. It would go against his very nature to stop time for all eternity.”

Mustering his courage, Skye straightened and pointed angrily into the shadows. “Listen to me! This is no time to be selfish!” He made a slicing gesture through the air. “If we all fall, your best chances of getting out of this alive are gone. You heard Char! This place is going to go down in flame because of us. This entire laboratory is bound to Char. At his whim, it could instantly be destroyed. You along with it! Do you want that!?”

“You are at risk of dying as well.”

“Like I told you. I’d rather die free than live as a slave.”

That gave the Great Spirit of Smoke pause and though he knew he could sense the entity through the haze, he decided not to.

“What do you propose?”

He pressed a paw against his chest. “JD and Haamiah’s relationship inspired me. Neither of them are bound to one another. JD isn’t compelled to do whatever Haamiah wants and Haamiah doesn’t have to do everything that JD asks him to. They work their own agendas as well. They’re not Champion and God, they’re more like… like…”

“Friends?”

“I don’t really know either of them well enough to judge but yeah.” Skye nodded and held out his paw. “There’s clearly more about this world that I don’t know about. Stand beside me. Teach me. Help me grow. In turn, we’ll both travel the world. We’ll go through our experiences together.”

The Great Spirit mulled it over. Through the periphery of his vision, Skye could see Char’s spell materialising. The black flames began intertwining with one another, forming a long, dark chain sizzling with a red aura that was quickly hurtling towards him. JD was up to his shoulders in corrupted corpses, barely able to fight anymore and still quickly sinking. Buster was pinned up against one of the vats where he was desperately trying not to be shoved into the container.

“I refuse.”

His heart sank.

“You’d rather die imprisoned down here!?”

“I have clearly been of use to Char. There is hope yet that he may just spirit me away in my cage and use me for something else. I could await another who is sensitive to the spirit world to rescue me.”

Skye grit his fangs together, claws out and digging into his palms enough to draw blood. “You know how many more people you’d inadvertently be killing by letting yourself be used by Char like that!? Have you no concern for mortal lives!?”

“Mortal lives are fleeting. In the eons that I have lived, your lifespans are mere flecks of dust in a vast world. I have seen empires rise and fall. You are nothing. You are not worthy of my devotion.”

“I’m not asking for your devotion!” he roared. “I’m asking you to give me a fucking chance to show you that we can work together!” He jabbed a finger at the smog. “A mortal imprisoned you. A mortal scared you off. A mortal now stands before you making you rethink about your very existence!”

“And to your point, child, I would rather die on my own terms than be bound to you. If I die imprisoned by Char, it will be because I chose to do so.”

To have his own virtues thrown in his face like that made Skye openly weep. He was losing this argument but he didn’t want to make any concessions. To give up his own freedom to be in eternal servitude to this entity he barely knew…

“But I would rather not die at all.”

He straightened, eyes wide and tears rapidly drying in the cloying ashen smoke around him.

“So here are the terms of our agreement, Skye King. I will be given my freedom. You shall bear my mark. I may answer your call should it tickle my fancy. But in turn…” The smoke around him rushed towards a single point. The all-consuming darkness came charging into the shape of the cloak-like Yvanir. Within the claws of the ghostly Great Spirit was a single, grey, smoky orb. He held that orb out to Skye. “… you shall carry a fragment of my essence. It will be a part of me that will be at your beck and call. A link between you and I. Through it, you can call me and I may reach out and answer you. But more, you may use it to call upon my knowledge, my form of power. It will be your responsibility to nourish it but it will be yours. What say you?”

Skye beamed and seized the orb. “I say, will you fight with me now?”

Time resumed and to Char the Cleanser, not a second had passed between when his Voidfire Chains had begun to form and launch themselves at Skye. Confidence welled in the Confessor’s face but it quickly shattered when those black chains tinged with blazing red flames wrapped around Skye’s form.

“No…” he breathed.

Even he could see that Yvanir had used what little essence he had managed to slip past the rock’s bindings and pooled it straight into the hovering Tigris. But there was more to it than that. King turned the smoky essence of the Great Spirit into his own, shining beacon. Intense, grey smoke smothered the Tigris, shrouding him entirely with only the black chains disappearing into the cloud any indication that Char still held the shaman down. A brilliant, warm light erupted from behind the orb of smoke akin to the break of Chrysalis Core’s rays shining through cloud cover and catching he flecks of dust so that the rays were clearly visible.

Voidfire Chains shattered with a resounding clang, their burning pieces raining down upon the ground. The thick screen of grey smoke faded, falling to the ground as if weighed down by its own might. Revealed was the Tigris, hovering in the air proudly while now physically wearing a mantle of the Great Spirit of Smoke.

Every fabric of Skye’s clothing had been turned grey from his leather vest down to his torn, worker’s pants. Blazing red trimming outlined every seam with each one seeming like it was made of living flame. A hood rested over his features, shrouding the upper half of his face to the point where only his blazing, red eyes were visible. A long, billowing, grey shawl was wrapped around his neck ending in three, long bands of cloth that fluttered behind him and seemed to fade into constant stream of smoke.

“What have you done…?” breathed Char.

“Now!” cried Yvanir in Skye’s mind. “Reclaim my power. It is yours!”

The Great Spirit gave him instructions, inspired by his own skills at draining raw magical energies from others. Skye thrust his paws towards the ground. Pillars of smoke shot out of his palms, crashing to the ground and spreading rapidly. It overwhelmed the clawing Animorti, drowning out their screeching and gravelly rasping. A tidal wave of smoke washed over the entire chamber. Though Char was left unaffected as he hovered, it consumed where Buster was being pinned to the ground and where JD had become buried.

Skye felt his consciousness reach out through the smoke. He could feel through it like it was an extension of his own skin. Buster was still breathing and struggling but JD had fallen unconscious.

“Act fast, King! Your friends do not have much time left!”

And so Skye began pulling the magical threads embedded into the Animorti into himself. They were originally Yvanir’s so it was not too hard to draw it all into himself. The smoke began tunnelling back towards him, rising up like a waterspout towards his chest, plunging straight into his muzzle and down into his very being. The Animorti stopped moving, collapsing into blackened dust. Buster emerged from the smoke, gasping for breath with the dust barely visible against his black fur. Skye breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a fleck of red amidst his retreating smoke.

Now charged with all of Yvanir’s stolen power, he quickly flung around and thrust a paw in the direction of the black stone. Char’s cry of ‘No!’ was barely audible against the scream of the bolt of condensed smoke infused with Skye’s own brand of magic. The black rock shattered and a blast of black smoke erupted from its confines. Without so much as a word, Yvanir launched itself at Char, the Confessor screaming and lifting his hands to defend himself. The maniac was quickly consumed by Yvanir’s form as the Great Spirit shot towards the exit.

To those outside of the Reaching Flame facility, a beam of pure black ash and smoke erupted from the depths of their home and streaked straight towards the sky. Any who had been standing near the entrance were surprised when the corpse of Char the Cleanser landed at their feet, flesh burnt and eyes boiled into nothingness. There was no mistaking his pained expression and the white and robes he wore regardless of how soot-covered they were.

Skye dropped to the ground. He felt Yvanir’s power radiating out of him as he maintained his current form. Unwilling to let it go to waste, he pulled that strength into himself, pooling it into the compartment of his soul where he kept Yvanir’s gift. His clothes regained colour once more, his eyes returning to their dazzling green. The hood and shawl dissipated into thin smoke leaving him looking as he always did save perhaps for the spiralling tattoos that curled around his left forearm, almost indistinguishable from his usual black stripes.

The sound of hooves scrambling across the floor reminded him of Buster and he turned towards his injured friend. Buster’s was covered in a multitude of scraps and cuts but he was quickly healing himself. In all the time that he had known Physiomancer, Buster never visibly lost weight as he recovered. Now however, there was a noticeable tightening of his gut as the injuries closed.

“Damn…” breathed the bull. “Of all the people to have a transformation, I honestly thought it’d be JD. Didn’t think you’d be the one to level up.”

Skye grinned bashfully. “It’s a lot more complex than that, Buster.”

The ground began to quake.

“Fly, child!” cried Yvanir. “This realm is tied to Char and now that he is currently indisposed, this world is collapsing!”

“No time to explain,” he cried. “Grab JD and let’s get out of here before this place collapsed!”

Skye easily lifted off the ground and zoomed towards the exit. Buster rushed after him, scooping up JD in his meaty arms as he did so. They bolted up the stairs, the laboratory crumbling beneath them in a shower of steel, dust and crackling magical energies. Skye shot out of the stairwell, crashing to the ground while Buster scrambled out just as the opening shut behind him. Stone and steel melded back together as if the laboratory had never existed.

He exchanged glances with Buster, flashing the bull a relieved grin. What celebrations he could afford, however, were cut short when the doors to the facility burst open and Konseral came charging in beside his followers and advisors.

“What happened here!?” demanded the charity leader. “Why did you kill Char!?”

Oh no…

It dawned on him that Char had the last laugh. There was no evidence to implicate the Confessor of the Custodia Goetia of his terrible experiments. The laboratory was gone just as the Cleanser had intended. In the end, he had cleansed all evidence of his misdeeds!

Even Buster knew this. Letting JD rest on the floor, he stood up proudly, chest puffed out.

“Not that it’ll matter but here goes.” The bull took a deep breath. “Your ‘Char the Cleanser’ is some sort of crazy nutcase that’s been kidnapping people of the charity and turning them into Animorti with the help of a Great Spirit that he had trapped under this very building. He had bound the very structure to himself so when he died, it was destroyed as well.” He raised a hand before anyone could protest. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s ‘convenient’ that there’s no evidence backing this up except for the huge ass fucking hole in the sky, the blast of black energy you saw, the charred corpse of your ‘advisor’ and the Red Lightning lying unconscious at me feet. But you know what? That’s the truth.”

Buster crossed his arms and huffed loudly. “So take it or leave it.”

Konseral was fuming. His face was red, eyes wide and his upper lip twisted into a snarl. Sylana was similarly as angry but it was her leader’s thick arm that kept her from charging forward. Strangely, Roran was standing closer to Alex and not moving.

“We invite you into our home,” growled Konseral slowly. “Welcome you with open arms. And then you do this? I put my faith in you! Especially your Red Lightning! I thought you protected me out of good conscience! Now I am inclined to believe that you used those prior attempts to get close to me and assassinate me!”

“Now hold on,” Alex bellowed. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Sylana sneered at him, baring her fangs at him. “Of course the father would back his son.” Her fiery eyes turned to Rayne. “Our fight was all just a ploy, wasn’t it? You would put up a show to distract us so your second team here could set up traps or something!”

Rayne did not respond.

“Look Konseral,” Wood said, striding forward, “I swear to you, this couldn’t have been planned.” He lifted the black and green hand axe he was holding. “I mean, can you honestly say that we planned for me to get a Valour?”

The Procinus’ features softened as he regarded Wood. “I cannot argue that. You were bestowed a Valour by the Mother Goddess. Surely you can be trusted. But as I see it, we are both the victims of their machinations.” He shot a foul stare at Buster. “I want all of you out of here. You are no longer welcome amongst the Reaching Flame.”

“But –” Wood protested.

He turned towards Wood with a gentle smile. “But you are still most welcome, Wood. You are pure. You were just tricked by them. Like they did to me, they pretended to be your friends so that they could have access to your mansion and be there when events turned sour, to prove themselves to you. Can you honestly say that they were your ‘friends’ after that?”

Buster stepped forward. “Wood, man. Come on. You know it’s not like that. We’ve been buddies for years!”

Skye’s heart fell just like Wood’s gaze.

“Guys… I answer to a higher calling now,” he regarded his Valour. “What if we were wrong about the Reaching Flame.”

“No!” cried the Bovios.

Wood lifted his gaze to Konesral. “It’s true. We did accept your invitation because we wanted to find out why the Fuocotan were targeting you. A lot of the guys believed that you hired the hit on yourself to garner more support.” The gathered crowd let out a collective gasp with Sylana’s sharp growl cutting through it all. “But after spending some time with you, with all of the Reaching Flame, I honestly can’t think you’d be so underhanded.” He looked towards Buster. “We’re so quick to judge that someone is bad when they’re really the victim. We have no proof that he’s behind this.”

“But what about the lab!?” cried Buster. “What about Char!?”

“All I see is evidence that you fought Char,” answered the Draconis sadly. “There’s no lab.”

“Come on! You’ve got to believe me! Just on principle!”

Wood shut his eyes with a sigh. “Innocent until proven guilty…” Buster smiled in relief. “… and you’re guilty of killing Char.”

Buster was crestfallen. “No!”

Konseral placed a proud hand on Wood’s shoulder. “The future Paladin has spoken. You are lucky we will not press charges on the account that you did help save my life twice. Leave. Let us mourn in peace.”

Just one look at Wood… and Skye knew the green dragon was not coming with them.

Killer Kane (Kane)

Post-Mortem

Though he had only known Wood Bladebreaker for a short time – one bus ride and a few exchanges here and there – had knew the Draconis by reputation. Mostly that consisted of JD telling him over chat message how the dragon threw a fireball at his face and the Red Lightning just took it for fear of exposing his true identity. That was JD in a nutshell. He was self-conscious about his social standing but would willingly sacrifice it if he could save someone else. His ‘cousin’ would kill himself trying if it could save the day. In many ways, he was a hero. A reckless hero with no concern about his own well-being.

So it was no surprise that when they were all hauled towards the train in anger, the doors shut behind them and the party being sent out of the Reaching Flame grounds that Jack Denver Clarke… was missing.

Of course no one had noticed.

They were too preoccupied with Wood’s betrayal.

“I can’t believe he’d do that!” Buster ranted, storming up and down the aisle. “Just because he got a fucking Valour he thinks he’s a fucking judge! ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ my fat ass!”

“You’ve got to admit, it looks bad on us,” Skye sighed heavily. “Char really covered his bases…”

“No,” Kira accused sharply. “You were all just careless. Had you spared Char, perhaps this non-existent lab would’ve been there to support your claim.”

“The lab did exist!” roared Buster.

“But it does not now,” countered Kira. “Thus my point about it being ‘non-existent’.”

The Bovios fumed.

Alex lifted his paws. “Okay guys. Cool it. Wood’s… betrayal hurt but let’s take a step back here. Exactly what happened down there?”

Kane attempted to remain attentive during the explanation but he could not help but worry about his cousin. He had been the one that had carried JD from the Reaching Flame facility but the moment he had missed a beat, the second his attention had veered away, JD was gone. Buster had done some preliminary healing but he was exhausting from the battle and healing himself so could only supply some initial first aid – enough to stop the bleeding.

“A Great Spirit?” Kira scoffed sceptically. “Your tale grows wilder and more preposterous by the second.”

Skye sighed heavily and glanced towards Buster who merely nodded at him. The Tigris got up. There was a burst of black smoke and suddenly, Skye seemed to have lost all colour in his clothes and was wearing a hood and shawl. The magical energies radiating out of him was intense and intense, so much so that even Kane – who by his own admission was not very magically sensitive – could feel it like an intense fire crackling in front of him.

“I am the Great Spirit of Smoke, Yvanir,” rumbled the voice from Skye’s open muzzle. The tiger wasn’t actually moving his lips; the voice just emerged from deep in his throat. “I am the embodiment of the God of Fire’s wanderlust, his former desire to explore, to adventure, to learn. You are in the presence of my companion, my shaman. To slight him would be to slight me. Watch your words, summoner_.”_

To Kira’s credit, she didn’t back down. She was a stubborn bitch. Even when she stood accused of outwardly attacking JD, she insisted she was right. It was a good thing JD opted to drop the charges against her or she would be imprisoned.

“Wait, wait,” Rayne began, rising from his seat. “Yvanir, are you telling me that Char captured you and siphoned your powers into living people to make them into Animorti? What for?”

“I cannot tell. Char was not forthcoming with his plan but from what little I could glean, it was merely the first step in a far grander plot.”

Buster let out an exasperated sigh and sat himself down on one of the many seats along the mostly empty train. “Of course there’s more to the plot.” He looked briefly to the armed members of the Reaching Flame standing past the doors of the carriage making sure that none of them escaped. “Is there anything you can tell us about Char? Anything at all?”

“Only that he called himself a Confessor.”

Kane caught the glance Rayne and Alex exchanged.

I wonder if they’ll want to keep this a secret, he mused.

As it turned out, Alex rose and cleared his throat. “A Confessor is a really bad problem,” announced the Wulfun. “Though I imagine most of you would want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“That would be nice, yes,” Kira replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ignoring her disrespectful tone, Alex began to explain. Kane perked his small, rounded ears. This was something he had to pay attention to so that he didn’t accidentally let the wrong thing slip.

“The Custodia Goetia are a band of demon worshipers. They’re not some ‘renegade’ Custodia. Their name is just a mockery of the military arm of the Church of the Tower. The Goetia is highly secretive. They were heavily involved in the Fall of Haven and we thought they were wiped out during that time. Their actions were instrumental in several rebellions and unrest in the Stations while Haven was fighting the demons directly.”

“And the whole ‘Confessor’, thing?” asked Skye. “Are they like the Generals?”

Rayne was the nest to rise. “Far from it. The Goetia are few in member and don’t have any true leadership. Everything apart from a Confessor is disposable to them. Then again, everyone is disposable to the Goetia.”

Puzzled glances were exchanged. Kane kept himself away from the exchange and pushed back memories of when he faced off against the forces of the dark cult.

“The main purpose of the Goetia is to convert and corrupt,” explained Alex. “Confessors are experts at Psychomancy as well as one other form of magic. Worse yet, Confessors are not a person. They’re more of a ‘personality’.” He glanced around the room, catching the looks of confusion he was receiving. “During the war, individuals with a talent for any kind of magic would be strapped to machines and then physically and mentally altered to fit the template of a certain Confessor. They would effectively be transformed into said Confessor complete with all their memories, skills and abilities. This would mean that even though you killed one Confessor, chances are they were still present somewhere.” He tapped the side of his head. “They had an implant in their brains that would constantly take a backup of their experiences, upload it into a central repository and use that to ‘upload’ themselves into any unwitting victim.”

Buster flinched in horror. “Wait… is that what Char was doing with all those Animorti? Was he going to turn them into an army of himself!?”

“I can only guess,” Alex said with a shake of his head. “I had honestly thought we had destroyed the Goetia during the war. This ‘Char the Cleanser’ personality was definitely not amongst the Confessors that we had encountered but if they are anything like the Goetia during the Fall, he will likely have ‘jumped’ to another body and taken over.”

Skye looked utterly crestfallen. His smoky cloak vanished and he collapsed back into another seat. “So he’s not dead? After all that, Char is still out there?”

“Very likely,” answered Rayne. “Confessors are incredibly hard to kill. Even should you somehow prevent the current incarnation from jumping to another body, chances are there’s still a source of him somewhere that’ll just find the next victim with a talent for Pyromancy and convert him or her into becoming Char.”

Looks of horror were exchanged between the three who were just receiving this new information. Kane remembered the frustration he experienced during the Fall when he would kill a Confessor only for the bastard to reappear on some other field of battle and mock him. Worse yet, Confessors grew stronger with every ‘jump’ as they only accumulated more knowledge and understanding of their killer’s abilities. The same tricks would not work against the same Confessor.

“The only way to truly kill a Confessor is to somehow prevent his backup and to destroy their repository,” said Rayne. A smug smirk crossed his features and he glanced towards Alex. “Or your thing.”

Kane opened his eyes and regarded the Silver Sniper. Alex had been pivotal in destroying the Confessors thanks to his illusionary skills.

“What did you do?” Skye asked curiously.

Alex lifted one paw into the air. “You all know I have a thing for illusion. So much so that I can totally warp the perceived reality of a certain person. My Dominate ability can brainwash a person to my will. No Psychomancy of the Confessors could defend against it. All I had to do was ‘corrupt’ a Confessor and then kill them. They would forcibly be uploaded to the repository and the conflicting personalities would destroy themselves from the inside. That Confessor type would become totally useless.”

“He’d do it sneakily too,” chuckled Rayne. “He would ingrain a slight weakness into the Confessor at first, kill it and then find the next one of the same type. Then he would slowly introduce doubts, conflicting ideals and terrifying memories into the Confessor until such a point that the personality becomes a gibbering mess. Whoever was managing the Confessors wouldn’t be able to really ‘reload’ from a backup since the corruption goes so far back and happened in such small doses that it would be impossible.”

“So like a computer virus,” Buster concluded. “Except you were introducing small exploits all along the way that wouldn’t really do any damage until you actually triggered it. Clever.”

Kira slammed a hand against the back of the seat in front of her. “Despite how wonderful this history lesson is, I cannot help but think that this is all useless information. A Paladin is now in the Reaching Flame’s clutches and we have been banned from their complex. Without evidence to these misdeeds, there is no way we can prove Char is indeed part of the Custodia Goetia and a full inquiry would be impossible on the testament of two high school students.” She shot a piercing stare at both Buster and Skye.

Then she frowned.

Kane chuckled softly. Only now was it beginning to dawn on them that a certain someone was missing.

“Wait…” she began, rising to her feet. “Where is Clarke-sama?”

“Gone,” answered Kane, crossing his big, meaty arms. “Not sure how he did it since I was the one carrying him but one minute he was there in my arms and the next, he wasn’t.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Chances are, he’s still back there somewhere.”

Alex looked about ready to explode, no doubt concerned over his son’s current physical state and effectively being surrounded by enemies from all sides. Rayne, however, placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat as a way of calming him.

“JD is a smart kid,” said the pugilist. “He’ll probably figure out Roran.”

“Roran?” Buster asked. “What’s he got to do with this?”

Kane smirked and shook his head in the direction of JD’s dad. “Man, Uncle Lexy, you work fast. Did you use an illusion on him?”

Alex’s features beamed even though his cheeks reddened in a blush. “Well… if by illusion you mean my mesmerizing dick then… yes.”

“I’m lost,” confessed Buster. “Did you hypnotize Roran?”

“Using my sultry moves and sexy voice? Yes.” Rayne punched his shoulder quite roughly. “Okay, okay. No, no magic involved.” He nodded back in the direction of the Reaching Flame. “I’ve convinced Roran to our side. He’s had misgivings about Konseral as well especially with the paranoid weapons manufacturing. He’s going to let us back in a little later. The sex was just my reward.”

“You’re lying,” Rayne accused. “His allegiance was the perk. Sex was the goal.” He waved a hand absently through the air. “Look, we’re getting sidetracked and there are still a lot of unanswered questions.” He pointed directly at Skye. “I want to know exactly what Yvanir is, how he’s bonded to you and how you’re going to explain that tattoo to your mother.”

Skye glanced at his left forearm which was now emblazoned with a tattoo. The Tigris visibly paled, his whiskers drooping as he realized that the markings were there permanently.

“What?” Kane said. “Your mommy doesn’t like the idea of a little ink?”

“She’s very conservative,” explained Buster. “Kind of this uppity, stereotypical Havenese socialite bitch. She really only adopted Skye because she thought she would be charitable to take in the kid with the saddest story and the cutest eyes. She also expects Skye to be as vanilla as possible because she doesn’t want any form of rebellion on his side to affect her social standing.”

Kane’s eyes regarded the swirls and curves the black markings made on the young Tigris’ forearm. They were not so prominent that a careless glance would just pass them over. Under careful scrutiny, however, it would be obvious that it was unnatural. Still, there were many ways to hide such markings.

“I’ll think of something,” Skye said with a shake of his head. “To answer your question, Rayne, Yvanir is the Great Spirit of Smoke. He’s a fragment of the Apostle of Fire, Adramalech.”

Skye went on to explain that as time went on and as Adramalech changed, portions of him developed a consciousness and split off from him just like the other Apostles. As a fragment of the great Apostle of Fire, Yvanir had incredible power but it was ultimately overshadowed by Adramalech’s own. The Great Spirit did not have a true physical body and had to expend much of its own magical energies to materialize in the world.

“Having an anchor like me helps him interact with the world without really expending his own power to manifest in the physical world. Otherwise, he’d be spending some of his own Spirit Energy to create that avatar.”

The two had formed a pact of sorts where Yvanir was still allowed to wander the world but had a connection to Skye through a ‘transplant’ of sorts. Skye would have to ask to use Yvanir’s power and the Great Spirit could respond as he saw fit. However, there was a fragment of the Spirit’s power inside Skye – that transplant – that the young shaman could use as a sort of repository of stored energy and knowledge. The Tigris explained how he had learned how to create a ‘Spirit Smoke’ that would allow him to rapidly drain magical energies from around him in the form of a cloud of smoke. That was readily accessible to him now were he to ‘active’ what he called his ‘Avatar’ form.

Judging by the loops that the Tigris’ ropey tail was doing in the air, Skye was clearly excited to try out his new abilities. Kane was amused by his enthusiasm and had seen that thirst for knowledge in others. Tempered correctly, he was sure that Skye could come to his new powers well. There was one nagging question, however.

“Are there other Great Spirits?” he asked.

For a moment, Skye was surprised by his question. The bright green eyes seemed to go distant for a moment like he was seeing something beyond the world.

“Yes, there are many,” answered Skye with a nod. “There are even normal ‘spirits’. You know those ghost stories? Poltergeist and the such? They’re generally caused by intense emotions that gain semi-sentience within an area and are formed much like a Great Spirit. Naturally that means that there are Great Spirits that exist all over Tower Thirteen where the Apostles made their impact.”

Yvanir was aware of four others tied to Adramalech. Cordellia the Great Spirit of Firelight, Forimfrit the Great Spirit of Heat, Isseniar the Great Spirit of Ash and Sauzan the Great Spirit of Embers. Where they were, Yvanir was unsure. Unlike him, however, they were likely still on Incendius as they reflected parts of Adramalech that were not so adventurous.

“And you’re going to find these other Great Spirits and make deals with them, aren’t you?” Kane accused.

Skye flinched at the accusation. “Uhm… well…”

Kane closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He held it for a good long three seconds. “I see this going one of two ways, kitty cat. Either you become famous because no one has ever played host to the Great Spirits before let alone multiple or you keep this all a secret and try to hide your newfound powers. Either way, the Goetia will come after you. Char saw you channel Yvanir, after all.”

Skye’s whiskers drooped again as all this just dawned on him.

“How can you be so sure?” Kira challenged. “There are other shamans out there after all. Several in Pinnacle alone. Perhaps Skye could share the burden of Yvanir with them or even surrender this part of him now that he is out from under the shackles of the Confessor.”

The big bear shrugged. He sat back down in his seat, draping one thick arm against the backrest. “I really don’t care what you think, Kurasama.” Kira visible bristled at that. “That’s why I said I see things going this way. Either way, King, you’ve got a job ahead of you. I’ve got this terrible feeling that the Apostle of Fire isn’t going to like you rooting around in fragments of his personality and shit so you might not just have the Goetia coming after you but also the Seraph of Fire.”

“Kane is right,” Alex said grimly. “You’re going to have to be on guard, Skye. You and those you love. I’ll organize something to keep your family protected. Discretely of course.” The big, red Wulfun crossed his arms thoughtfully. “But that begs the question, what was Char’s end goal here? Was this just a big experiment or what he actually aiming for something?”

A soft ringing met their ears and Alex immediately lifted his left paw. A quick tap on the metal bracelet there and a hardlight console sprang up across his forearm. Features brightening, he said, “Roran. Didn’t think I would hear from you so soon.”

“I really didn’t have a choice in the matter,” answered Roran grimly.

Kane’s heart slammed up against his mighty chest, pulling him up to his feet in anticipation.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked tensely.

A bright, cheery if a little gravelly voice sprang up.

“Hey dad! I’m here with Striped-Forge-Daddy. Sorry if I worried you. I would’ve called sooner but I was trying to find some place to sit that you and this hunk of beef haven’t done it on yet.”

Kane couldn’t help but throw his head back and let out a bellowing laugh, slapping his forehead. “Oh Goddess… He’s already given Roran a nickname.”

“Is that bad?” Buster asked.

“For Uncle Lex, it is.”

Alex looked caught between relief and embarrassment. “JD… Thank the Goddess you’re safe. Where are you?”

“In Daddy’s forge.” Just the mention of ‘Daddy’ made Alex visible cringe. “While we were being kicked out, I noticed something and followed it. Turns out, there’s a Fuocotan encampment in the forests. I made a deal with them.”

“A deal!?” Kira exclaimed. “Clarke-sama, that has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done!”

“I dunno. I thought that one time I summoned an uncontrollable monster far beyond my skill which devastated my entire family home and threatened to kill me was pretty stupid. Oh wait, that wasn’t me. Now who was that again…?”

Kane shook his head. JD’s penchant for antagonizing Kira would lead to the summoner doing something extremely foolish… and violent so he decided to cut in.

“What kind of deal did you make, cos?” he asked.

“Glad you asked, Kane. Turns out, the Fuocotan did some digging. Two failed attempts with serious loss of life and national coverage of their failure isn’t good for business, after all. They wanted to get to the bottom of the failures and they have evidence that someone from within the Reaching Flame was responsible for hiring them to get to Konseral. Here, I’ll play it over.”

There was short clicking noise and then a woman’s voice came across the communicator.

“You want us to infiltrate the Bladebreaker gala being held for your leader and kill him?”

The voice the followed was obviously masked, a warbled undertone ringing with every word. “Yes.”

“I will not ask why but we will require payment upfront.”

“Money is no object. There. I have just transferred the funds.”

“You are prompt. Excellent. We shall contact you when the job is done.”

Kane grimaced. “That’s great, JD, but that doesn’t give us much. There are no names or –”

The next log came in and that man’s voice returned.

“Konseral Darmin will be at Pinnacle Academy tomorrow. I want you to capture him.”

The woman replied, visibly annoyed. “The Gala is in a few days. We already have our resources in place. We cannot retrieve them at this stage. You will need to pay for this second attempt.”

“As I told you before, money is no object. How much?”

“Transmitting. Just to be clear, you want us to capture Konseral. Not assassinate him. You realize this is not our expertise.”

“Fine. Funds transferred. Capture him and bring him to me. He is to be unharmed.”

The woman sighed. “Very well. I will see what I can do in the short time we have. For future reference, the Fuocotan do not appreciate these last minute changes.”

“Situations change. You should understand that.”

There was a click and the next log began.

“The Red Lightning was at that school!” scowled the woman. “He killed all of my troops!”

“Perhaps you should have performed a far more thorough background check, then,” came the smug reply. “You have failed to bring Konseral to me.”

“We still have our resources at the Gala. We can bring him to you then. But there will be a supplementary cost. The loss of life is unacceptable.”

“That would be your fault for sending initiates to attack Pinnacle_.”_

“We had to make do within the short timeframe you gave us.”

“A penalty that I already paid in our previous transaction. Are you asking me to pay for your failure?” Even with the masking, the voice’s confidence bled through. “That is not very professional.”

“You do your business your way and we will conduct our business our way. I am transmitting the extra costs required to capture Konseral and bring him to you.”

“That is a rather steep requirement. I do not think I will pay.”

“Your arrogance will be your undoing. You will pay us or we will hurt you.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Perhaps we should proceed with our original plan and kill Konseral instead of bringing him to you then?”

“So you intend to kill the leader of the Reaching Flame and deposit his body here, to me, in Altima Meadows? You do not know my identity. After the failed attack at Pinnacle_, that could easily be construed as the_ Fuocotan declaring war on the Flame. No, I do believe your hands are tied. Try what you will. Anything you do will bring the full might of both Incendius and Haven upon you. Good day.”

Click.

Kane stood up and grinned. “And there we have it.”

“But it’s clear Konseral isn’t to blame,” Kira countered, always the contrarian to JD’s claims. “He specifically called him by name.”

“He could easily have been referring to himself in the third person.”

“Or it could have been Char whom we know is part of a cult of demon worshipers. It stands to reason that the failed attempts would have brought more attention to the Reaching Flame which is clearly starting to slow down in its expansion. These events have brought them back into the national spotlight. We know Char wants to convert people into Animorti for some nefarious reason so if Konseral, the front man and charismatic leader, could bring in more recruits, it would be greater fodder for him.”

That was true and Kane could not dispute her claims but he just had a feeling that Konseral was the true mastermind. Something about the boar just rubbed him the wrong way.

“Fine, whatever. Point is, we’ve got proof that the Flame isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Let’s bring this back to the complex, show Bladebreaker he’s wrong and get the military or Inquisition to do a full top-down scrub. That’ll be enough to stop Konseral in his tracks.”

“And how do you expect to do that, exactly?” Kira said, still seated like the little princess that she always was. “Do you just want to go back to the complex, wave this ‘evidence’ in their face and make claims while we have access to technology that could easily forge this kind of exchange? After all that happened today, who are they to believe? Their vindicated, charismatic leader who has a Valour-wielder backing him up or the group who was associated with the trio who assassinated one of their beloved advisors and colluded with the very assassin’s guild that were responsible for the first two attempts?”

Damn… she’s got me there.

“Actually, I have may have a solution to that,” replied JD. “And in true Jack Denver Clarke fashion, it’s got a little… showmanship.”

Dead Tail Operations (JD)

Blind Exile

The call was cut after he had transmitted the plan. Looking up at the cramped forge, Roran sat awkwardly beside him, face red with embarrassment while the remnants of the Fuocotan quietly stuck to the shadows. The thirty or so assassins were mostly women with only a few men. They all glowered at JD and Roran with something akin to barely restrained loathing.

Though JD attempted to put on a tough exterior, the multitude of makeshift bandages and barely healed wounds he sustained hurt a lot. Only from have previously endured painful torment at the hands of demons did he manage to keep himself standing.

It had been thanks to Haamiah’s interference that he had spotted the lone Fuocotan initiate that had been spying on them during the drama that had unfolded. He had been only partially conscious as Kane carried him back to the train when Haamiah had directed his gaze towards the shadowy figure lingering on the outskirts of the vengeful mob. The moment Kane wasn’t paying attention to him, he used Shukuchi to move behind the farthest member of the Reaching Flame and raced after the initiate. His wounds had reopened from what little healing Buster could afford and he was fairly sure he had left half of his blood on the trail from the complex into the forest.

He didn’t have the energy to fight the Fuocotan and prayed they would agree to his gambit.

“The evidence will not be enough to implicate or bring down the Reaching Flame,” the leader of this branch claimed. Her name was kept a mystery to him but she insisted on being called ‘Queen’. Like the other women of the Fuocotan, her hair was shaved bald though there were lines of silvery circuitry that ran across her scalp and linked to her left eye. “We do not know who hired the hit on Konseral. Only that he was present here, he wanted the pig alive and he was willing to suffer our ire.”

It was true. The evidence was circumstantial and didn’t implicate Konesral at all. No matter what Haamiah claimed, if there was no actual evidence of the deed, Konseral could not be arrested.

“It doesn’t matter if there’s evidence or not,” he responded. “All that we have to do is cast doubt and shatter their perceptions of their charming, captivating, benevolent leader.” He locked gazes with the woman and she visibly flinched under his piercing gaze. “Faith is a fascinating thing. It can empower zealots to commit themselves suicidally to a cause. But shatter that faith and they will either turn that energy against what had been the cornerstone of their belief or fall to the ground, broken and incapable of moving.”

The Queen regarded him cautiously. “You are barely an adult and yet you speak with the voice of a man grizzled by war and cynical to life. On the contrary, you live the life of a high school student with the hope of a better future in your eyes.” He inclined her head slightly. “You are a creature of contradictions, Red Lightning.”

JD snorted softly. “Maybe I should end up with Wood then given how he’s such a contrarian.” Shaking his head free of the subject, he nodded towards the door. “It’ll take about an hour for the rest of the guys to get back here. A few more minutes for the train to reach the docks and then the rest of the time for them to hijack the train and get back here. We’ll meet up with them down there. You know what you’ve got to do.”

The Queen sneered at him. “I do not take kindly to being told what to do.”

“You’ve already been cut off from the rest of your organisation. You don’t answer to anyone else. If you won’t take my orders, then consider my threat.” JD flicked out Timekeeper. To their credit, none of the Fuocotan flinched – not even the men. “Get going or I’ll cut you down here and now.”

The tension in the air hung like a thick smog. Flames were already flickering at the edges of Roran’s fingers, ready for a fight. With the Fuocotan able to communicate through their cybernetics, there was no way JD could truly tell what they were thinking. Haamiah was silent and the Wulfun did not want to ask the God for any insights.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” the Queen responded, unfolding her arms. “Even weakened as you are, I would not want you as an enemy. As per our agreement, in exchange for our assistance, you will not send the military after us nor will we pursue vengeance against you or your friends. I will not break that pact over a heated exchange.”

A disc of black smoke swirled behind her. “I leave you to your devices, Red Lightning. Let us hope your plan words as intended.”

“Plans rarely turn out the way you want them to,” JD grunted. “Just be prepared for anything.”

“You need not remind us,” answered the Queen ominously. She backed away into the swirling smoke. The rest of the Fuocotan did the same, sliding into the darkness and vanishing from Roran’s forge. It didn’t pass JD’s notice that the door was wide open and though they stepped into the shadows, he detected faint disturbances in the light as they quickly slipped out of the doorway as shadowy figures.

He waited a good two minutes before finally relaxing and even then all he did was point Timekeeper to the ground and use it to prop himself up.

“How do you do it?”

He didn’t turn to look at Roran and just kept his eyes on the door, ears perked for any unusual sounds. “How do I stare down experienced assassins? How do I manage to keep standing despite effectively being a walking blood drive? How do I make the cold, emotionally distant bad-boy look so enthralling?” Only then did he briefly glance over his shoulder at Roran. “Throw me a bone here. It’s a rich topic.”

Roran leaned against one of his workbenches and gave him a cautious smile. “How about ‘all of the above’?”

Flicking his gaze back towards the door, he strode towards the simple wooden frame and shut it slowly, quietly. “My dad must’ve told you about how I became the Red Lightning. People like the Fuocotan don’t scare me.”

“Does anything scare you?”

The question gave him pause and he regarded the doorknob he was gripping ruefully. “After you’ve been tortured by demons for what seemed like an eternity, scarred beyond repair and screamed to the point where your voice is permanently damaged, it’s hard to be scared of anything. Let’s not forget that I had a psycho instructor who literally sucked my fear out of me to make himself stronger.”

Roran rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace. “Yeah. Rayne explained his abilities during his fight against Sylana. You can’t use Force, you can’t use Spirit. What can you use against him?”

“The environment,” JD answered simply. “Force and Spirit energy are prominent in sentient beings who try too hard to control their surroundings. Dump a pile of bricks on Rayne’s head and he’ll react just like anyone of his size and strength. Open a gaping hole beneath his feet even if you use magic and he’s not going to be able to counter. When fighting Rayne, you attack his surroundings, not him.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that has a way to kill everyone he knows in case ‘they go insane’, are you?”

JD just stared at him pointedly.

Roran sighed and held his head in his paws. “Kid, you’ve got to relax. You’re seventeen. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Why are you spending it thinking about contingency plans to stop your friends and family in the unlikely event they’ll turn on you?”

As tempted as he was to say something outrageous, he couldn’t lie. His pact with Haamiah prevented him from uttering any falsehoods. That and even though some part of him reasoned that he couldn’t trust Roran, he also knew such feelings were baseless. So far, the blacksmith had proven to be trustworthy. There was certain… genuine quality to him that shone through his eyes.

“Because if I can find their weaknesses, so can others,” he answered simply.

The bulky Tigris peered up from his paw, muzzle half open. “What? Really?”

JD pulled up a wooden chair he was fairly sure his dad and Roran hadn’t use in some sexual position and sat down. That simple gesture sent pain rocketing up his rear and spine. His legs tingled slightly; perhaps an involuntary reaction of his nerves desperately trying to confirm he still had motor functions down there.

“As an assassin, I’d basically be useless the moment a battle began,” he explained calmly. “The moment someone knew I’m on the field, they’d be watching their backs. It’s also very hard to go back into stealth when you’ve got fireballs flying everywhere and a thousand eyes keeping watch for anything that’d kill them.” He straightened, rolling his shoulders slightly and fighting back the wince from the pain it caused in his shoulders. “So I switch from an offensive position to a defensive. I look out for the weaknesses of my team and try to cover them. If Rayne gets pinned because someone dropped a tree on him, I’ll slice up the tree and free him. If my dad runs out of energy to fuel his illusions, I’ll be there to keep eyes on me instead so he can get in position.”

He gestured towards Roran. “Same goes with you, I guess. You need time to build your arsenal. I’ll be there to make sure you get that time.”

Roran gave him a faint smile. “I appreciate the gesture, kid, but I can build my weapons pretty damn fast.”

“But at a severe cost,” JD countered. “Rematerializing is incredible expensive. You’re effectively turning your physical strength into Force energy and then that Force energy back into matter. There’s a lot of power lost in the transition. Little wonder you’re so big and meaty. You’d need all those reserves for your spells.”

“Hey!” The striped tiger lifted his arms and flexed his muscles. “These I got fair and square. You should’ve seen me when I was a skinny, nimble archer! You get more of a punch with your arrows when you can pull the bowstring far enough!” He lowered his arms and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And also if your bowstring has incredible tensile strength and the perfect ratio of length to tension so that it can actually release all that energy.” A big, cheesy grin appeared on those feline features. “It’s why I actually got into blacksmithing. There’s a science to it all, you know.”

Thinking of Validation, JD wondered how much time he could’ve saved had he someone like Roran by his side taking exact measurements and understanding his needs. As it stood, he, Rayne and another member of The Dead Tails had undergone a lengthy and painful series of trial and error until he got the exact dimensions of the twin etherium blades right.

“I’ll bet,” he rumbled softly. “My point still stands. Though you have a large reserve of Force energy, you need some way to replenish it. That’s why you tricked Wood into creating those obelisks. A smith without metal is just a big guy swinging a hammer. You need to replenish your resources so you can keep making weapons and that takes time to set up not to mention keep it safe.”

Roran’s broad shoulders sagged but given how tense and big they were, they barely moved at all. “I guess you got me there.” Then his small, rounded ears perked up. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve got my back?”

I was hoping he wouldn’t ask that.

“My father seems to trust you so I guess you’re okay by my book.” He closed his eyes sadly. “Though I’ll warn you ahead of time that my dad is… promiscuous. If you think you’re going to pin him down, you’re setting your expectations exceptionally high.”

“What do you mean?”

Haamiah sprang up behind him, partially blocking his vision of Roran with those bladed wings of his. “Is this really any of your business, Jack? Should your father not be the one responsible for telling Roran of his past escapades and not you?”

JD resisted the urge to tighten his grip around Timekeeper.

Roran deserves to know.

“Yes he does but are you just expediting a relationship that has little to do with you to a miserable end by telling him now instead of letting your father be the one to tell him?”

You’re the God of Time. Do we really have the time to spend on a fling?

“Always. Lessons learned are never a waste of time.” Before JD could protest about his dad never learning a lesson, Haamiah hushed him with a lifted – and hidden – hand. “If you must quantify it, think of every man that your father goes through as another memory, another flurry of emotions and carnal feelings that help compound on your father’s already vast resources of Spirit energy.”

JD mentally scowled and looked past Haamiah towards Roran. “Dad’s had a lot of partners. A lot of them. He plays it safe but once he’s explored every inch of his latest partner’s body, he’ll grow bored and drift away. If he hasn’t told you that this is just a fling, then you’ve been told now. If you think you’ll outlast him and have somehow convinced yourself that neither of you will develop feelings for one another before you eventually grow bored, you’d be wrong. When the break up happens, you’re likely to be the one to offer him your heart than he is to you.”

Haamiah shook his head and vanished back into his clockwork realm. The God of Time may see all possibilities and may favour one outcome over the other but that didn’t mean he had the right to force him towards one road or the other. He still chose which path he took.

“Wow…” Roran breathed. “You don’t have a very high opinion of your father, do you?”

“I think the world of my dad,” JD growled defensively. “But before he was my dad, he was one of the military’s top spies. It was his job to get close to people. Seduce them if the need be. He’s slept with men and women alike. If you think I’m cold then you better look at my dad closer. At least I’m icy on the outside as well as the inside. He hides his frozen heart beneath a warm exterior.”

Roran gave him a sympathetic smile. “Look kid, I appreciate the warning. I really do. But you can do something a thousand times and the outcome can be exactly the same. But that thousand and first time… Well… life will surprise you.” His eyes fell. “Let me tell you a story… You know about the Burning Rebellion, don’t you?”

“That nonhuman uprising on Incendius decades ago where you, Yulanda and –”

Haamiah suddenly interrupted him. “History has been rewritten. Harm Chronos is no longer involved.”

“… and some others prevented a demonic invasion on the Station of the Sun,” he finished seamlessly. “Many died.”

“I was such a dumb kid back then,” Roran laughed softly, shaking his head. “I was so full of it. Idealistic, rebellious and anti-establishment. I bought into my friend Valk’s speeches about equality for nonhumans. Even headed up the military arm of it.”

“Not so different from where you are now, is it?” JD asked bitterly.

“Hey,” Roran countered, pointing at him, “I may be the head of security but I take my job seriously. I protect people. I don’t harm them.” His gaze averted. “One of the reasons why I started to doubt Konseral when he started asking me to make weapons for the Flame.” He shook his head. “Anyway, as I was saying, life will surprise you, kid. During the Burning Rebellion, I always thought I’d be fighting for my family. I had a wife, you know.”

“I heard. She died.”

“Yes.” There was genuine hurt and sorrow in his voice. “I miss her every day. I would tell her ‘I love you’ every day. I must’ve told her a thousand times. More. But that thousand and first… That last one which would be our last.”

JD felt a crack appear against the cold brick of his heart. “I’m sorry,” he murmured reflexively.

“Don’t be. As it turns out, Valk had organised her to marry me in an attempt to get my attention from him.” He gave JD a lopsided smile. “See, your dad and I aren’t all that different. Though I guess I’ve always envisioned myself with a kid of my own and someone to love. Don’t think that’ll happen now that I’ve sworn off women in honour of my dead wife.”

It felt almost right to point out that Roran could still marry Alex and thus be JD’s step-father and have his family. Maybe Roran could have his own genes copied and birthed into a Gene Baby so JD could have a little feline brother. But that was all almost right.

JD instead chose to remain silent.

“You can never predict where things will go,” Roran said. “After I lost my wife, demons attacked Clockwork, Valk escaped on the Sunspot and turned out to be corrupted by a demon and I had to kill him with my own two paws. Yulanda died and I left my life on Incendius behind to travel and experience the world. I could honestly say that I wouldn’t be here now were it not for those series of events. Would I change it?” He shook his head. “No. Never. I have no regrets.”

Haamiah hovered beside JD, soundless and subtle as the passage of Time. “Here is a man who understands that Time marches ever forward. He cares not for your father’s past. He cares for what your father will do and is doing now.”

“I guess I can honestly respect that,” JD said both to Haamiah and Roran. “I’m not going to stand in the way of you or my dad.” He grimaced, using Timekeeper once again to prop himself up. “But if you don’t watch your back, I guess I’ll have to.”

Roran smiled, baring his fangs slightly and rose to support JD. “Hang in there, kid. You’re still pretty banged up.”

“Thanks but I can move,” he muttered back. “We’ll need to get to the train station and clear the area before my dad and the others arrive.”

“Are you sure?” asked the Tigris with genuine worry in his voice. “I mean, you really don’t look so good.”

JD gave the burly smith a savage smile. “If you think this is bad, you should’ve seen the other guy.”

Roran laughed, clearly touched by his bravado. “I saw. And from what I hear, it was actually the other guy that killed Char.”

“I helped.”

“Sure you did, kid. Sure you did.”

Forged (Roran)

Question of Faith

Roran’s doubts about Konseral had started a long time ago. When the charity worker had approached him concerning possibly donating his works to Haven after the Fall, he had been eager to help. Haven was a very beautiful place and Roran had only visited it once or twice so he was keen for another visit. But as the months turned to years and the Reaching Flame stuck around even after Haven had recovered, Roran had to wonder exactly what it was that Konseral was planning to do with all his resources.

Then there was Char.

Something about the guy just never sat well with him. He had received a brief overview from Alex about Char and the Custodia Goetia. Initially, he hadn’t believed bright, crimson wolf with the shining, hypnotic blue eyes. But the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that, at the very least, Char had some sinister plot in the works and was using Konseral as a scapegoat.

That was the reason he was half-carrying, half-dragging Alex’s son out of his forge and towards the train station. Almost everyone was back at the facility making preparations for Char’s cremation – the traditional Incendian way to see off the dead. That left the path down clear. There wasn’t another soul in sight until he approached the station itself.

Four guards were posted along the long platform likely to ensure that when the train did arrive, nothing odd had happened. Another aspect of the Reaching Flame that Roran found very disturbing. They had guards. Sure people were being trained to fight on Haven but here, people were being trained and assigned on guard duty. Even how Konseral dealt with the apparent murder of Char was odd. Murder, regardless of life owed, was not excusable. Someone should have called the authorities and yet no one did.

“Leave this to me,” JD grimaced, stumbling forward and drawing Timekeeper again. The sight of that blade was oddly familiar to Roran or at least he felt that it should be familiar to him but he couldn’t recall it.

Maybe it’s just because it’s so unique. Who would willingly wield a golden sword with the Chronomancer’s emblem on it anyway?

Suddenly, JD lurched forward, his legs going out from underneath him and his entire body crumbling. Timekeeper toppled from his paws and he hit the soft grass just before the steps leading to the train station face first.

“Clarke!” Roran cried. The moment the name left his muzzle, he realised he had made a mistake. The four guards immediately saw the fallen Wulfun and rushed forward, wielding weapons that had come out of his forge. Fearful of what they would do to his current fling’s son, Roran knelt beside JD and rolled him onto his back.

“Holy shit!” cried one of the guards. “It’s the Red Lightning!”

“He must’ve managed to sneak off while the rest of his stinkin’ band were shipped off on the train.”

A third clapped Roran’s back. “Good work, Sir Northridge! You caught him!”

The fourth grunted softly and levelled the spear he was holding at JD’s unconscious face. “We should kill him.”

“We should hold him for ransom!” another exclaimed.

“We should tell Konseral!”

“We –”

JD, eyes still closed, grinned savagely. “Fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

Roran just gawked as the blood-coloured Wulfun moved like the crimson lightning he was nicknamed after. JD seized the spear that was levelled at him and yanked it, pulling it straight into the ground right beside the foot of one of the guards. The Flame member wielding the spear was pulled off balance while the other whose foot was nearly skewered leapt back in surprise. JD swept his leg out at the shins of a third and used the spear’s haft to pull himself up to slam his forehead into the forehead of the spear-wielder with a sickening crack.

Despite his injuries, the Wulfun’s entire body crackled with red electricity and he darted from person to person, pulling them to the ground and sending sizzling lightning through their bodies. Eyes rolled into the back of their heads. Guards fell all around him.

Then it was silent.

“Amazing…” Roran breathed.

JD Clarke was panting heavily, still bleeding but with all four guards knocked unconscious around him. It had all happened in less than five seconds. The Red Lightning grimaced softly, clutching his flank. Roran rushed to him, holding him up

“You’re one special kid, aren’t you?” breathed the Tigris. “I don’t know very many teenagers who could take down four fully grown men while heavily injured.”

JD shut his eyes and his body visibly sagged. “Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not but… I’m going to lie down for a second.”

Roran knew little about the healing arts. A jolt of panic shot through him as Clarke collapsed into his arms, blood seeping into his clothing. He quickly hoisted the wolf into his arms and hurried him towards one of the benches along the train station. There were a myriad of cuts and cashes all over the Wulfun’s body and his crimson fur made it difficult to tell which one were open and which were scars.

Thankfully, the train came rolling in a minute later. Alex and the rest of the party came rushing out.

“JD!” cried the overprotective father. Sadly, the young wolf was unconscious and could not respond. Alex knelt beside his son and quickly did a check. Buster, that big, black-furred Bovios, was there a second later with a gentle, pink light emanating from his fingertips. Skye King, the shaman that had killed Char took position beside Roran and held out his palms, a gentle blue-green light of healing magic streaming from his fingertips.

Alex stepped back and let the two do their work. “Thank you for looking after him,” sighed the big Wulfun, a look of worry on his features. “Sometimes JD just doesn’t know his own limits.”

“Seems to me he’d rather die than fail,” Roran responded. He wrapped an arm around a distraught Alex’s shoulder and pulled him away from his injured son. “It’s both an admirable quality to have but also a stupid one.”

“He’s been like that since the Fall. Very driven. He won’t cry over a failed mission but he will tear out his own heart and offer it to you if it’ll mean you’ll live.” Alex gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, at least he’ll go to those lengths if he cares about you.”

He smiled down at the Wulfun and nodded slightly. “He told me that as long as I’m dating you, he’s got my back and won’t try to get between us.”

Relief washed over Alex’s face. “That’s great. I was worried he wouldn’t warm up to you. He’s kind of a… hard nut to crack.”

“It only took an assassination attempt and a conspiracy possibly involving an entire ‘charity’ that would invalidate the last few years of my life,” Roran offered off-handily. “But he also mentioned how you tend to go through men as quickly as Chrysalis Core sets and rises.”

The already red cheeks of the Wulfun grew brighter red. “Ah… well… You see, the thing is…”

Roran held out a paw. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, let’s focus on what’s happening right now. I just want you to know that I know and I’m not mad.”

There was a sudden loud crash from the complex. A thunderous boom followed shortly afterwards and this was accompanied by the blare of an alarm.

“That’d be phase two of the plan,” Alex rumbled. Phase one was getting everyone back to the train station. The concerned lupine father looked towards his son. “Skye, you need to get going. You know the plan.”

The slimmer, more magically-inclined Tigris nodded and gave one last burst of magic towards JD before leaving him in Buster’s capable hands. Alongside Kira and Kane, they bolted off towards the west, perpendicular to the path leading to the complex. Not before Kane reached into his ever-present duffel bag and handed JD two very familiar scabbards. That left Rayne, Buster, Roran, Alex and JD at the station.

Roran turned his head towards the complex. Bursts of raw flame erupted from the pure white structure that had one stood for charity, kindness and generosity. Now more than ever he saw just how far the Reaching Flame had fallen. It was the Burning Rebellion all over again.

A society that had gathered under a supposedly ‘peaceful cause’ turned into a militia out of paranoia and pride. It just makes me wonder who is the true mastermind of the issue…

Will it be Konseral… or is he just another puppet for a greater evil like Valk was?

The blasts of flame were getting closer and closer. A large mob wielding his weapons were charging down the path from the complex towards them. Predictably, Sylana was leading them with Wood Bladebreaker right behind her. The Green Draconis had that familiar arrangement of two chainguns and mechanical arms out again and his Valour, Vulcan, hanging from his hip.

Roran hid his disappointment in the young smith.

How quickly you revert back to your comfort zone even with a new weapon. I know a few kids that would be eager to try out their new Valour the instant an opportunity arose.

The Fuocotan were nowhere in sight. They had done their job. Another ‘assassination attempt’ at Konseral. Enough to rile up the already on-edge Reaching Flame and turn the embers of Char’s death into a full-on inferno of fury. With a hothead like Sylana at their lead, they would be motivated to action. With the presence of Wood right beside them, they were further empowered. No surprise that they came charging brandishing weapons engulfed in fire that bore Roran’s distinct flair for red and silver. Members of the Fuocotan were swiftly darting back and forth between them both giving them a target and also leading them towards the train station. JD had been explicit in his instructions that no one was to be killed during this phase of the plan.

Roran instinctively found his paw reaching out for the closest thing that could keep him from shaking. That was Alex’s paw. The stillness and calm in the older Clarke’s stance surprised him. Alex was unmoving save for the steady, even breaths that inflated and deflated his mighty chest. Those bright, shining blue eyes shone with a fierce determination. Roran didn’t miss the fact that Alex was standing directly in front of JD, blocking the approaching mob’s view of his injured son.

He really does love his kid, the Tigris mused.

Sylana’s approach slowed just as the Fuocotan darted behind the small barricade of bodies that included Roran, Alex and Rayne. The Queen stood beside Roran while the rest of her crew flittered in behind them. Some were even perched on the rooftop of the station or the train. None of them seemed to be taking a threatening stance. Though having seen these assassins first hand, he knew how quickly those quietly folded arms could turn into fast, deadly precision.

He just hoped that JD’s plan would turn out as he had hoped especially the next part. Lifting his green eyes to meet Sylana’s look of confusion and betrayal, he steeled himself. Fingers closed tightly around Alex’s paw. His heart fluttered when Alex squeezed back.

“Roran,” Sylana began as she led the group and came within earshot range. “What is the meaning of this? You would turn your back on us? On your family?”

Wood glanced between her and the team that he had gone through so much with. It was clear he did not want to fight.

“Even family can betray you, Sylana,” he answered gruffly. “But I wasn’t the one that stabbed you in the back.”

She gestured aggressively at how his paw was linked with Alex’s. “Then what do you call this!?”

“Solidarity against impossible odds,” said Alex. Before Sylana could silence him, Alex lifted his voice to address the mob as a collective. “We have evidence that someone in the Reaching Flame was the one that hired the hit on Konseral. You and the Fuocotan have been played for fools by a particularly conniving force within your own ranks.”

The seeds of doubt were planted. Roran began scanning faces, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Their gambit was still a wild one as even though they had the evidence, even the most solid fact could be disputed by the more irrational belief. Looks of confusion passed across the faces of the Flame but they were outnumbered by the eye rolls or fury especially those closest to Sylana. Wood pursed his lips, clearly biting his tongue over claims that he had heard before but seen no evidence against.

He’s a good kid. He’s giving us a chance.

“And you would have us believe this after you killed Char and are now clearly allied with the Fuocotan?” Sylana snapped. “The very same people who tried to kill our beloved leader?”

Only then did Wood speak. “Come on, Sylana. Let them make their case at least. You kind of rushed them out that they didn’t get a chance to really provide their evidence.”

“That’s because they killed one of our own before even giving us this evidence!”

As they had all agreed, they let Alex do the talking.

“As I said, the Fuocotan were played. They were hired first to attack at the gala and then hastily re-hired to attack Konseral at Pinnacle. They were set up to fail.”

“And what for, exactly?” Sylana waved her paws through the air. “Why would anyone want to kill Konseral only to fail? What possible reason could anyone have for making the attempt?”

“Publicity.” The simple, single word cut through the crowd and stunned them all like they had been struck by lightning. Not a single one of them seemed out of place. “The Reaching Flame has been floundering. You all know it. Recruitment levels are down. Haven has become self-sufficient once again. You all know you are quickly becoming irrelevant. Then there’s the fact that all the other branches on Incendius were destroyed.”

This was news to some but there were others that had already known or suspected. Doubt grew and glances were being exchanged cautiously. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall together. Denial and that same illogical belief kept many from putting them together. It was up to Alex to encourage them.

“You all know this. You’ve heard the rumours. You’ve speculated yourself. All of these attacks have put the Reaching Flame back on the national spotlight. That means more funds. More volunteers. Especially since you’ve survived two rushed assassination attempts due to someone amongst your ranks pulling the strings.”

“Where’s your evidence!?” barked someone from the back.

Is he the one? Roran wondered.

Right on cue, the vid screens along the platform sparked to life. A transcript of the recording from the Fuocotan began scrolling across the translucent panels while the voices of the participants cut through the silence.

“You want us to infiltrate the Bladebreaker gala being held for your leader and kill him?”

“Yes.”

“I will not ask why but we will require payment upfront.”

“Money is no object. There. I have just transferred the funds.”

“You are prompt. Excellent. We shall contact you when the job is done.”

The deniers began speaking up but the transcript was not done yet and they fell silent again.

“Konseral Darmin will be at Pinnacle Academy tomorrow. I want you to capture him.”

“The Gala is in a few days. We already have our resources in place. We cannot retrieve them at this stage. You will need to pay for this second attempt.”

“As I told you before, money is no object. How much?”

“Transmitting. Just to be clear, you want us to capture Konseral. Not assassinate him. You realize this is not our expertise.”

“Fine. Funds transferred. Capture him and bring him to me. He is to be unharmed.”

“Very well. I will see what I can do in the short time we have. For future reference, the Fuocotan do not appreciate these last minute changes.”

“Situations change. You should understand that.”

No one spoke this time around and they just stood in mute shock. Though the words played across the fields and all the Reaching Flame complex, the members of the Flame read and reread the transcript scrolling before their eyes. Disbelief quickly gave way to confusion, then pain and then anger.

_ “The_ Red Lightning was at that school! He killed all of my troops!”

“Perhaps you should have performed a far more thorough background check, then. You have failed to bring Konseral to me.”

“We still have our resources at the Gala. We can bring him to you then. But there will be a supplementary cost. The loss of life is unacceptable.”

“That would be your fault for sending initiates to attack Pinnacle_.”_

“We had to make do within the short timeframe you gave us.”

“A penalty that I already paid in our previous transaction. Are you telling me that you are asking me to pay for your failure? That is not very professional.”

“You do your business your way and we will conduct our business our way. I am transmitting the extra costs required to capture Konseral and bring him to you.”

“That is a rather steep requirement. I do not think I will pay.”

“Your arrogance will be your undoing. You will pay us or we will hurt you.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Perhaps we should proceed with our original plan and kill Konseral instead of bringing him to you then?”

“So you intend to kill the leader of the Reaching Flame and deposit his body here, to me, in Altima Meadows? You do not know my identity. After the failed attack at Pinnacle_, that could easily be construed as the_ Fuocotan declaring war on the Flame. No, I do believe your hands are tied. Try what you will. Anything you do will bring the full might of both Incendius and Haven upon you. Good day.”

And there, anger immediately turned to suspicion. Roran could see the thought processes flitting through their minds now. Who was the one who would callously toss aside Konseral’s safety? Who amongst them manipulated professional assassins to failure and dared to gamble away their beloved leader’s life? Who had the money to pay for such attempts?

They were all volunteers after all. None of them were high-profile people of wealth. Most of them were Incendians who just had charitable hearts or perhaps hopes of migrating to Haven. After years at the Flame, what little luxuries they could afford were humble. The ones with access to such money could only be those in charge.

Like Sylana, Roran, Char and perhaps even Konseral.

“This… This proves nothing!” Sylana cried, her eyes starting to redden with held back tears. “Th – They… You could’ve made this all up! It could be forged!”

Alex narrowed his gaze. “Maybe. But we didn’t do this to convert you to our side.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What? Then why?”

There was a flash of crimson lightning. The mob staggered away from a man amongst their ranks, just an average volunteer but one with JD’s claws digging into his face and the white blade of Validation pressed against his neck. Still injured but at least no longer bleeding, the Red Lightning grinned savagely at Sylana from over his hostage’s shoulder.

“Funny thing you should know about Char the Cleanser,” said the Wulfun. “He’s got this thing where he can jump from one body to the other, completely taking over the consciousness of the next partway decent Pyromancer. He absorbs their skills and knowledge, gets stronger and gets to live on. But there’s one big drawback to that…”

He pushed his muzzle forward so that his lips were directly next to the man’s ear. “See, in order to really go on living, you need to upload yourself to that little central consciousness you’ve got and you can only do that using that handy little chip of yours. Thing is, that chip is still in your other body. I’m guessing you had chips installed in the heads of all those Animorti you created and that’s how you were able to control them but since they were all destroyed when your lab was smashed, that leaves the chip in the body that’s currently being cremated. And you can’t afford to just leave that chip there, could you, Char?”

JD’s intense, laser-like stare turned to Sylana who froze before she could protest. “See, what would your ‘family’ think if as they were gathering your ashes, they suddenly find this metal thing where your head has been turned to ash? You’re all from Incendius, right? You wouldn’t have access to something like that. You’d lose everyone in the Flame to doubt and they could possibly turn on you. So what else could you do but immediately jump to the next available body and ensure that the chip was nowhere in sight after you were cremated.” He smiled towards Sylana. “And I’m willing to bet this chap was the guy that was in charge of gathering the ashes, right?”

The Racoorin stood in mute shock for a long moment… before she nodded very slowly.

“But that won’t be enough evidence, will it folks?” JD said. “Well, it might be but I’m still pretty pissed that Char hurt me pretty bad. So here’s what I’m going to do. We’re all going to march up to Char’s corpse, watch it burn and then see if the chip is indeed there. Once we prove I’m right, I’m going to do that thing where I can sever a person’s ability to cast magic entirely.” He gently patted Char’s bleeding cheek. “Thing is, Char, I know as a Confessor that even if I kill this instance of you, your ‘backup’ is just going to take over. You probably don’t really care about what you’ve learned here. If you were smart, you’d have taken your backup yesterday so not much lost. But I bet what really scares you is the fact that I can make your death as slow and as painful as possible. You won’t be able to cast Pyromancy, you won’t be able to use your Psychomancy tricks and each passing day, you’re going to bleed out all your magic, alone, hated and most of all…” His lips were pressed up against the man’s ears. “Azzy won’t be able to help you.”

The man’s eyes suddenly went wide. He let out a tremendous cry. Searing hot, red flames burst from his body and blasted outwards. The mob was thrown back and even Sylana was pushed a few feet away. JD was thrown completely away and though his fur was singed and flesh charred slightly, he was wearing a savage grin. The poor member of the Reaching Flame was completely engulfed in the raging, red conflagration. The fire seethed and faded as did the shell that Char had been wearing.

Roran didn’t want to believe Alex’s claims that Char was some sort of body-snatcher but the evidence was right before him. Once again, Char the Cleanser was standing before them completely with his flaring robes and fiery, red hair.

“I would willingly sacrifice my existence for my God,” scowled the Confessor, spinning to point an accusing finger at JD. “But when you besmirch His name, you cross the line!”

JD was still grinning even though the tip of his muzzle had been burnt of all fur and was raw and red. “If it wasn’t the fear of dying really slowly or the fact that I could hand you over to the military and all your secrets being extracted by the Inquisitors, it would’ve been your pride in your faith. Either way, you lose.”

In that moment, Char realised what he had done and spun around, crimson eyes wide in shock. Sylana looked utterly crestfallen. The rest of the Reaching Flame had fear plastered all over their faces. Members of the Fuocotan broke their steely expressions and stared at the Confessor in anger. Wood backed away from him, muzzle wide open in shock.

“Well played,” hissed the Confessor. “Make your claims. Force me to reveal myself. Proof of my continued existence will prove all your other claims.”

“I wasn’t going for anything that deep.” JD grimaced and staggered to his feet. Even with a good portion of his body burnt, he still managed to stand, gripping the single blade of Validation with continued conviction. His blue eyes glowed with an ethereal light that matched the blade. “All I really wanted to do was to run my blade all the way up and down your spine. You’ll never be able to cast magic again. At all. You’ll be trapped in that body and I’ll get to pay you back really slowly for making me cannon fodder in a rather terrible zombie apocalypse movie. I hate that genre. It’s overdone. We get it. The real monsters aren’t the shambling undead. It’s people.”

Char snorted softly and lifted his hand towards JD. “Humour even when you are so close to death. Admirable.” Flames danced between his fingertips. “Nevertheless… I confess that you have bested me on this instance.” He turned, glancing towards Alex. “I would rather not stand in the same room with the Silver Sniper after all.”

A fiery orb of flame surrounded him, slightly translucent to allow others to see him. He floated off the ground. The Fuocotan launched crossbow bolts at him but the orb merely burned them to ash. “Until next time.”

The Confessor turned and zoomed away, heading for the west.

“Wait!” Sylana cried, charging after him. “Let me come with you!”

“Sylana!” Wood shouted but he was much slower than her. The Racoorin’s feet erupted with flames and she raced after Char. The Fuocotan were on the verge of giving chase as well but Rayne charged after the retreating two.

“No!” shouted the professor of Pinnacle. “You know your jobs. Evacuate everyone out of the complex. This place is going to turn into a warzone soon. Char will have made contingency plans. We also have no proof that he was the one that hired to hit or whether or not he was acting under the orders of another. Get everyone on the train and evacuate the facility. Move!”

Rayne had been sure not to blame Konseral. Not yet. They had no proof that the Procinus was indeed the one that hired the hit or if he was just being played as well by the conniving Confessor. Roran strongly suspected that was the case but even should Konseral prove to be innocent, he had to be held accountable for his actions or ignorance.

“You heard the man!” the Tigris roared. “Everyone on the train! Now!”

Metus Daemonium (Rayne)

Conviction of the Fist

“Why, Sylana!?” Rayne barked, skidding to a halt in front of the Racoorin, arms outstretched.

She was fast but all the emotions that had flared up during confrontation and Char’s reveal had given Rayne a boost in strength. Enough, at least, to overtake her and hope to stop her. She just continued to charge, powerful jets of flame propelling her from her feet and her paws.

Shit! She’s not stopping!

With no other choice, Rayne sidestepped the charging racoon and seized her elbow the moment it came within reach. She gave it a twist, driving her straight into the ground. Sylana crashed deep into the ground, upheaving a lot of soil until the flames spluttered out. She pulled her head from the ground almost immediately, letting out a pained cry.

“Why are you stopping me!?” she demanded, flinging her head around angrily towards him. “I belong with Char!”

Rayne dusted his hands dramatically. “Please don’t tell me your infatuated with that maniac.” He had seen infatuation before and this was not it. There was something else she was feeling. “Char is a manipulative, cold-hearted and most of all, dangerous psychopath who will take over your body and destroy everything that makes you an individual to his own ends. Can’t you see that?”

“I’m not an idiot!” she snapped back. “I’ve seen that he’s the driving force behind the Reaching Flame for a long time. Konseral is nothing more than his charismatic meat puppet.” She got to her feet, head held high. Her conviction was radiating from her like a physical aura. It was admirable. “I stopped following Konseral a long time ago. I’ve been following Char. He is the true visionary of the Reaching Flame.” She gestured at the complex. “I saw what he intended with the Gala. It was his suggestion. He was the one that told Roran, Konseral and I to keep the fact that the Flame is all but destroyed a secret!”

A drop of sympathy fell into an ocean of disgust. “So you knew.”

Her gaze dropped even though her stance didn’t lighten.

“You knew what Char had planned,” accused Rayne. “Or at least had an inkling.”

“When he didn’t lift a finger over the assassination attempts, I knew he was up to something,” answered the Racoorin, the bangs of her hair dropping over her features so it was hard to see her eyes. “Then after the Gala, he lauded how Konseral was now making headlines and so many people were expressing their concerns. He called it a ‘success’ even though we were nearly killed. I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded if we had all died there.”

Wait…

“We had it wrong,” Rayne sighed softly, pressing a hand against his face. “This wasn’t just a recruitment attempt. Char wanted to take over the Reaching Flame. He sent you, Roran and Konseral to that Gala to die.”

Her silence confirmed that, at the very least, she too suspected the same thing. With the other three leaders of the Reaching Flame dead, Char would have had unopposed control over the ‘charity’. Sympathy would flow in from countless avenues especially since the deaths of the heads would’ve occurred during a Gala of Haven’s richest and most powerful. No one would really miss Sylana but her fighting spirit would’ve inspired many as she was essentially a rags-to-riches story. Konseral’s charisma and deeds would spread while further influence would come from Roran’s own reputation and works. Char would have more resources and people than he’d know what to do with.

And that would just mean more people to convert to the Goetia.

“You’re too smart to just follow him blindly,” Rayne insisted. “He sent you to that party to die. Why are you still chasing him?”

“Because it was my chance to prove to him that I shouldn’t just be cannon fodder for his cause!” she cried. Her eyes darted back up, blazing with fury and that same, steely determination. Red flames erupted from her paws. “The fight between you and me was another chance to prove that. I survived his trap. Now I just had to beat one of those that helped Konseral…”

So that was your ploy. It wasn’t just to instil confidence in the masses. You wanted to prove to Char you weren’t an asset to be discarded.

“But you ruined it all!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. The flames were so hot that just a few inches from the corners of her eyes and those tears evaporated. “Now you’ve forced him to run off. I have no goal in my life! No one to follow!”

A follower. That’s what you think you are. At the very least, you need some cause to believe in so that you have a path before you.

It was easy to see where such a mindset came from. People tended to congregate and follow the people who had the strongest ideals or power. Strength attracted mortals on a primitive level. It made them feel safe and gave them a goal to reach for. Sylana may have been uplifted from the mire by Konseral and trained to fight with her fists in the Art of the Fiery Fist but the driving force that pushed her to join the Reaching Flame was not some deep desire to get stronger; it was the fact that the Flame itself grew stronger and so she justified that she needed to grow as well. As the Flame moved forward, so did she just to keep up.

There was no point in trying to insist that she find her own path. That was just not her personality. The very least he could do was offer her a target if only to keep her from turning to Char and the Custodia Goetia.

He lifted his own fists.

“I’ve spent a lot of my life following people as well, Sylana. I won’t try and convince you into finding your own way in this fucked up world of ours because I’ll be frank, that’s scary. There’s security in following someone. You’re absolved of the blame if things go wrong and you never have to worry about your future so long as your ‘boss’ is there ahead of you. I get it. But whatever else…” A seething purple aura wrapped around his fists. “I cannot let you follow Char. I won’t let someone as strong and determined as you fall under his power!”

She grinned savagely at him. With her wide, teary-eyed stare, she looked positively insane – someone whose very belief system had been shattered and she was now fighting to maintain a modicum of sense. “You think you can stop me? I know your tricks now.” The flames around her fists grew brighter, erupting all over her forearms. “I was holding back, you know. I didn’t want anyone hurt.”

Of course you were.

“You weren’t the only one.”

Sylana let out a furious cry and launched herself towards him. Using both Burst and Aura style, she closed the gap towards him and he immediately lifted his arms to block the sweeping kick that he knew was coming. It was a high kick, one propelled by a blast of flames from her heel. He braced himself for the hit. Then Sylana held out her paw and a blast of flame shot in his direction. Not enough to strike him but enough to stop her approach. Her kick continued but it swept just an inch away from him.

A fake-out?

Then the air sizzled with energy.

A ring of explosions following the path of her kick exploded towards him. Her magic ignited the air, conjuring flames and causing a blast that threw him back. She had indeed learned. Only when the physical Force struck him would Vi Translatio kick in. Anyone could tell you that the shockwave of an explosion would do just about as much damage as the fire and shrapnel combined. Sylana’s Force had been pooled into creating the explosion and that Rayne could readily absorb but the shockwave was something else. Pain erupted from the front half of his body. It had been a while since any of his students had scored a decent hit on him that he couldn’t readily heal.

Sylana stamped her foot into the ground. Flames burst from the ground, carrying large chunks of rock into the air. She struck the hovering shards with her fist, using the force of her fire to send them hurtling towards Rayne. No fire was infused within the rocks themselves. It was all physics.

Rayne was forced to dodge the shrapnel speeding towards him at lightning speed. One large chunk slammed into his gut and he gagged, blood blasting out between his lips. He crashed to the ground with a heavy whump. Despite the pain, he was grinning.

That’s it. Make me the target of your ire.

“What’s wrong?” she barked. “Can’t fight back? Don’t have the strength now that you aren’t stealing it from me!?”

He propped himself up on one knee. Blood pooled in the back of his throat so he spat it out. “Just waiting for you to actually try and kill me.” He lifted his purple gaze at her. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose your nemesis and once again be without a purpose in life?”

Her fists shook and she roared in fury. Red hot veins pulsed throughout her body and she once again became an embodiment of living flame. Sylana – activating Fusion Style – rushed forward and slammed a fist right into his chin. No extra magic. Just a blast of flame to propel her fist her some extra hardening around her knuckles to keep them from shattering.

Angry as she was, she was still very much in control. Rayne felt that punch. He hit the ground, still grinning.

“Why are you smiling!?” she demanded. “I will kill you!”

He lay in the scorched grass for a moment. “Two reasons,” he answered. “The first is that just like you, I was a follower until I found the strength to find my own path. It was thanks to a stupid, golden-eyed Wulfun. He opened my eyes and gave me the strength to move my own two feet in a direction I chose. And second…” He let out a soft laugh. “Char is probably really far away from you right now.”

Even without looking, he could tell she was shocked. Lifting his head, he could see she was turning around in a panic, looking for any signs of the fiery orb that Char had retreated through.

“Don’t worry though,” Rayne grunted, propping himself up again on one knee. This time, he rose fully to his feet. “Skye, Kira and Kane were sent out specifically to block the three possible exits Char could take off the complex. He won’t be getting far.” That last punch hurt quite a bit. Even the slightest touch sent pulses of pain through his body. “Either Char will try to retrieve the chip that JD mentioned and commit suicide so he can upload himself completely to the Goetia’s central consciousness, he’ll try to escape through the forest or he’ll make his way to Meadowbay through the multitude of roads. Kane is already guarding Char’s body, Skye is watching the roads and Kira has her summons all over the forest. He won’t be going anywhere.”

Sylana turned to him, grinning widely. “Thank you for telling me exactly where to look.”

“You have a one in three chance of finding the right route Char would’ve taken,” he answered. “But then again, you’ve got an even lower chance of escaping me.”

“What makes you think you’ll stop me now that I know how to beat you?”

Rayne shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Kid, all you’ve ever seen me do is fight with someone else’s borrowed power. You’ve never seen me fight with my own. And there’s a reason for that.”

The dark, purple aura that had encased his hands spread. It seethed and wrapped around his arms, washed over his shoulders and emanated from his entire being. Rayne lifted his gaze towards her. The sclera of his eyes turned an inky black, forming a stark contrast to the shining purple of his irises.

Sylana immediately recognised the aura and those eyes. All composure and confidence she may have had fell and she staggered back in horror.

“You’re a demon!”

“Not just any demon,” Rayne said, waggling a finger at her. “I’m a Demon Prince. Three guesses which one.”

She scowled at him, the flames around her burning in fury. “No matter who you are, fiend, I will destroy you!” Flames erupted from her feet once more and she launched herself at him.

He shook his head and sighed internally. As he had told his students back at the Gala, JD was not the only one who could use Shukuchi and immediately appeared behind Sylana. He grabbed the side of the Racoorin’s face in mid-flight and dragged her to the ground, slamming her mightily into the soil. The flames engulfing her were immediately doused and he stood over her, grinning from ear to ear.

“My name is Rayne Noam. Otherwise known as the Demon Prince Amon. I draw strength from conflict, both in inciting and resolution of said struggles. The more we fight, the stronger I get. There is no way you can beat me.”

He lifted her easily off the ground and tossed her by her face off to the side. Sylana managed to catch herself in the air and dragged her paws across the ground to stop herself from flying too far. The momentum was still immense and her fingertips began to bleed from the effort.

She’s very tenacious. As she is now, however, she can never hope to defeat me.

He turned towards her just as she struggled to her feet, panting heavily and flames spluttering around her fingertips.

“I will defeat you!” she cried defiantly. “I will kill you, demon!”

Rayne shut his eyes, disappointed in the young pugilist.

I’m willing to wager Char was the one that told her how to get around my techniques. She probably didn’t figure it out on her own.

In all likelihood, Sylana was manipulated by Char to be a distraction anyway – a contingency plan to avoid would-be pursuers. The Confessor did just fly away without much fanfare. JD could have easily caught him had he been strong enough to muster one more use of Shukuchi.

“You won’t even come close, child,” he growled, pulling a single hand out of his pockets. “I have a cause. One that I’ve chosen to follow. I can’t die. Not until I see it through.”

“I won’t let you get in the way of my cause either!” she snapped back.

A shrill, musical whistle suddenly came from his left. A big, black-furred Ursus came calmly padding forward, duffel bag still slung over his shoulder. Those military camo pants and tight-fitting shirt were unmistakable.

“Kane?” Rayne asked. “What are you doing here? You should be guarding Char’s corpse.”

The brawny bear shrugged, his massive pectorals shifting and stretching his shirt to their limit. The military-issue dog tags were unmistakable in the silhouette they made against the fabric. “Yeah… the thing I figured about that was that if Char was after the chip, then there was really no point it keeping it intact. So I smashed it.”

Rayne grimaced and slapped his face. “Kane… that wasn’t the point. You needed to be there in case Char went back after the chip. Then we’d know where he was.”

Sylana scoffed at their dissent. “So much for your organised coup.”

“I just had a feeling I needed to be here,” Kane responded with a bright grin. “And you know I always go with my gut.”

More than once, Kane’s gut feelings had saved them from a sticky situation. It was an uncanny feature of the bear. Something he may have just muttered as an off-handed comment may actually crystalize into truth sometime later. The Dead Tails had learned early on never to take anything Kane said for granted.

“And it’s a good thing I did,” continued Kane, shrugging off his bag. “See, if you and the fiery racoon there went head to head, traces of demonic energy would be left on this mote and that’d cause an even greater panic than there already is.”

Kane was right, of course. Inquisitors would be breathing down his neck… again. That was always annoying. Alex and the other Generals would have to clean up his mess. Putting something that problematic on his best friend’s lap would not be good on their relationship.

“What do you suggest?” he asked. “I think we’re beyond hugging this out.”

Kane grinned brightly. “Let me take care of it.”

Sylana snorted derisively at them both. “A Geomancer against a Pyromancer such as me? You must be joking. I will turn whatever earth you upturn into ash!”

The big bear unzipped his bag and reached inside. “Well… Geomancy is actually my secondary skill. I never really got into it, to be honest. My main offensive ability is…” He pulled out something big, black and silver from the bag. Machinery twisted, locked into place and unfurled in his paws. He had to hoist the device in both paws as it emerged to be three times his size in width and over six times his height. The enormous barrel, the distinctive cylindrical shape and heavy power pack made the weapon all too easily identifiable.

Sylana gawked in shock and horror. “I – I – is that…?”

“Yep,” Kane responded, letting the enormous cannon rest beside him. “This baby is a Typhon-class beam cannon. Ripped right off a Havenese warship.” He placed one paw on his hip and bobbed his head to the side. “Well, that’s not true. I’ve made modifications to it every now and then. I’m sort of a collector and a tinkerer like that.” Then he rested a paw against the sleek, silvery surface of the weapon. “This is Gáe Bolg.”

The weapon began to buzz, a deep blue light starting to shine from within its recesses.

“During the Fall, this baby could cleave an army in two. Did pretty awesome against demonic warships too.” Kane grinned towards Sylana. “Sorry girl, but it’s gonna be used on you. Don’t worry. I’ll set it to stun.”

“Wait!” Sylana cried but there was no stopping Kane.

All sound was abruptly dulled as the Typhon weapon sucked all forms of energy from around it; light, sound and in some cases, even a bit of life energies. The world became dulled in a sepia tone cut only by the searing, blue light of the beam cannon firing. A focused, intense pillar of turquoise light erupted from the long barrel, consuming Sylana in her entirety and carving into the landscape of Altima Meadows. Trees were rend in two or those close enough had huge chunks ripped right out of it in a perfectly circular fashion.

Colour began to return just as the beam faded. Rayne peered past the cannon and swallowed hard. Sylana was reduced to nothing more than a completely blackened, charred form. She almost seemed to be petrified in a look of agony but she quietly writhed in pain.

That was the ‘stun’ setting of Gae Bolg. Anything higher would’ve seen her completely disintegrated. The Typhon classes were designed to tear through both mechanical and magical shielding as well as burn through thick plated armour. A single Racoorin would never have stood a chance. Still, thanks to Kane’s tinkering, the weapon could actually let someone live… if barely.

“Thanks for stopping me before I did something stupid,” he said.

“Given how intense your fight with Sylana was, I figured you two had some unresolved business,” Kane said with a shrug. He pressed a paw against the cannon and it began folding itself back into his matter-compressing bag. “Char has probably gotten away by now though.”

“Skye and Kira skill could’ve caught him.”

The bear shook his head. “Nah. I’m pretty sure he went after his corpse. We would’ve seen lots of fire right now if Kira or Skye caught him. I’m thinking the moment he saw his precious chip smashed, he killed himself knowing full well there wouldn’t have been a way to get back to the Goetia now.”

“He could still jump bodies.”

Kane smirked at him. “That’s why JD got everyone to evacuate the facility, remember? He has no bodies to jump to and he’s now fully exposed and vulnerable.” The bear scratched his cheek with a nervous grin. “Kind of makes you wonder. What’s worse, fighting to the death against impossible odds or realising you’re trapped and being forced to seriously contemplate suicide.”

An impact of JD’s plan though he strongly suspected that was not the intention. JD, like Alex and likely the rest of the Generals, would have wanted Char alive to ‘corrupt’ his strain and end the Char line forever. Or at least to extract some more information out of him about the Goetia’s resurrection. Still, it was a dark consequence.

There was a sudden rumble and both men turned around. A brilliant pillar of light erupted from the distance, piercing the skyline.

“Or… I could be wrong,” Kane said, surprised. “That could be Char fighting someone.”

“No…” Rayne whispered, dread rising in his throat. “That’s not the light of someone fighting a Confessor.” Every bone in his body was suddenly on fire and his blood boiled, spurring him into action. Deep-rooted programming instilled by the Demon King urged him to go straight to that light. It would be the same for all other nearby demons.

His voice filled with dread as he could only come to a single conclusion.

“That’s the light of a Paladin Falling.”

Calibre Grade(Wood)

Calibre

Standing in a circle of ‘friends’ whom he had recently betrayed was awkward. He could feel Buster’s resentment radiating from him and Alex’s fierce eyes clearly marked his disproval. Roran, likely in an attempt to curry favour from Alex, glared at him distrustfully. JD was the only one not to throw him a spiteful gaze but that was because he was so heavily injured that he could barely move. Members of the Fuocotan rallied the members of the Reaching Flame into the train while Buster used his Physiomancy to patch up JD’s wounds. Even the big bull was starting to wear down, sweat dripping from his brown and his belly now visibly shrunken. Wood felt this was not the appropriate time to mention his sudden weight loss.

Loud shouting suddenly came from a short distance away. Konseral was being ushered forward, protected by what he could only guess were loyalists to the Porcinus. Many of the members of the Flame were shoving and trying to reach for the brawny pig in a desperate attempt to extract answers from him. The loyalists argued that there was no evidence that Konseral was in any way involved in Char’s plot and was just a victim like Roran or Sylana.

Wood felt the acid in his venom glands bubble and drip down his chin.

If I can’t be much help, I can at least open a few eyes.

He marched forward, Quadrant conjuring his mechanical arms. On his command, he reached into the crowd, seized Konseral around the waist and soundly deposited him on the platform in front of everyone.

“You’re going to have to answer for your crimes, Darmin!” he bellowed loudly. Those rushing into the cargo compartments of the trains paused to watch the spectacle. “It was under your watch that all this happened! You were complicit in Char’s actions! You played the part of the ‘pure’ charity worker and pulled people under your influence but in reality all you did was bring them all for Char to use in his plots!”

Konseral lifted his arms.

Come on, deny it! Deny it so I can punch you hard!

“I am sorry.”

Those three, powerful words brought a stunned silence to the entire platform.

“I am sorry that this has all come to pass,” Konseral continued. “I had no idea this was all occurring. I was desperate. I had a vision for the Reaching Flame when I first formed it and as it grew, I had to call on others for help to manage its affairs. I never thought it could fall so far from what I had planned.”

No! No! Don’t play the fucking victim card! You’re not a victim!

Wood lashed out and seized the pig by his collar. “You are not getting away from any blame here!”

“I do not intend to shirk the blame.” Konseral gently pried himself free and took a step to the side so that he was facing the majority of the crowd. “I give myself to you and the justice system of Haven,” he announced. “I have sinned. I too saw the signs of betrayal. I suspected that there was something amiss but I chose to ignore it due to the prospect of getting more support and more volunteers to help with the Reaching Flame’s goals.”

He lowered his arms, hanging his head and letting out a miserable sigh. “My friends, I have not been honest with you.” Gesturing at Alex and company, he said, “What they said was true. Our branches on Incendius were all destroyed by some unknown assailant. I do not know who committed these heinous acts but rest assured that it was not us.”

Bullshit! Wood screamed mentally.

“I became desperate to keep the Flame alight. Once a blazing star has become little more than a few embers. With all the publicity and attention we received from surviving not one but two attempts at my life by the Fuocotan, I saw an opportunity to replenish our depleted ranks. And I admit…” He looked up sheepishly. “The newfound celebrityhood was quite appealing. I am only mortal, after. A simple man who bit off more than he could chew.”

Wood looked to the crowd, scanning faces. To his horror, the looks of outrage were fading away. They were shifting to expressions of understanding and sympathy. All of them were starting to see Konseral as a victim, a puppet, not as the co-conspirator that he really was.

“Do you expect us to believe that you had no idea that Char was kidnapping people and turning them into Animorti?” he demanded.

Alex placed a firm paw on his shoulder. “Wood. Not now.”

“Yes now!” he shouted back, almost to the brink of tears. He turned back towards Konseral furiously. “I believed in you too! I gave you the benefit of the doubt! Then all this shit happened and you think I’ll just believe you again!?”

“Please,” Konesral begged. “You must believe me. I had nothing to do with Char’s plot. I had no idea what he was doing.” The Procinus lifted his hands, offering his wrists to Wood as if to be handcuffed. “Please, for what it’s worth, judge me with whatever charge you would bring. I deserve it. I turned a blind eye to this all and failed to perform any due diligence. I plead guilty to all charges.”

He pleads guilty…

Wood suddenly saw where this would go. By pleading guilty, he could have an out. Yes, he would be charged but his lawyers and supporters – of which there were many and still growing – could argue for a reduced sentence. No trial would be held. Worse yet, there was no true evidence that he was really in collusion with Char. At most, he would be charged with being complicit to countless murders involuntarily. The judge could have sympathy for him and protests would likely be held, backed by many of the rich and powerful that had seen him saved and whome he had a chance to network with.

At worst, he’d get an extended sentence at a minimum-security prison.

He was going away a martyr!

I can’t let this happen!

Alex pulled him back again. “Wood. I understand your frustration. But we can work this out and put him away the right way. Cool it and let’s get everyone out of here before Char comes back.”

One more glance out to the crowd and he could see there were all quickly changing their minds on Konseral. All the fury was now pointed squarely at Char. He looked to JD who had done so much for them and was low lying on the bed, being treated by Buster. Then he looked back to Konseral, who had turned back towards the members of his crumbling charity.

I won’t let you get away with this!

“Konseral,” he growled.

The boar turned to him, eyes wide, watery and seemingly innocent. But Wood saw the malice behind them. He saw the smugness of a man who knew he could play the system and would walk away with little to no injury. Perhaps he might even emerge from the ordeal stronger than ever. Already, cogs were ticking away in the pig’s mind. Would he write a memoir that would sell for millions? Would he continue to preach in prison? Would he suddenly become a ‘model citizen’ and be let out on good behaviour?

I won’t let that happen!

It happened like lightning.

One moment, Konseral was turning to him, smiling apologetically. The next, the boar’s eyes were wide, his muzzle agape and blood streaming down his forehead.

Wood wrenched Vulcan out of the boar’s face, blood staining a good two and a half inches of the axe’s silvery edge. Konseral fell back from the force, his eyes completely dead and features frozen in a look of utter shock.

“Wood!” Roran cried.

But he ignored it all because at that moment, he felt a rush of power fill him from his Valour. His eyes had been opened and the doors barring him from his true potential blasted off their hinges. Flashes of knowledge, truth and an immense consciousness poured into him. His entire body shook and blinding light erupted from him, shooting straight upwards in a blistering pillar of light.

It was all overwhelming. The raw power burst from within his very form and he felt like a balloon about to burst. Then soft, gentle hands caressed him. They moved all over his body, gently pulling at his muscles, reshaping his bones, forging his skin into a form befitting a true Paladin.

At first, he thought it was the Mother Goddess Athena.

Then a single truth cut through it all.

“The Mother Goddess is dead.”

The voice was dark, deep and masculine and yet he knew it all to be true.

“I killed her.”

He roared, throwing his head back years of faith in the Church was instantly shattered in that moment. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. Betrayal burned through his veins and gave those soothing hands more clay to work with so that they could reshape his body easier.

“I am the Demon King. I am Asmodeus. I am the one true God. It was I who gave the world magic. It was I who crafted the Infinos Arcanum_. It was_ I who gave you Vulcan and it is I who is the source of all Valours in Tower Thirteen_.”_

Though it went against all that he knew, somehow he knew Asmodeus was incapable of lying. Everything he said was truth and it burned hot brands into his brain and flesh.

“Your Church is a lie. They worship a corpse. They keep my Paladins from their true potential and call to those who embrace it Fallen. But in truth, true valour comes from embracing both your strengths and your faults. One can only be complete with both light and darkness. In denying yourself your carnal needs just because you were ‘chosen’, you make yourself weak and flawed.”

It was true. He could feel it. The moment he committed the ‘sin’ of murder, he never felt more alive. The power of Vulcan flowed through him like never before. No Paladin could achieve this. Only a Fallen could.

And now he was one of them.

“Embrace your true might, Wood Bladebreaker. Become one of the Fallen.”

Then another, calmer, almost snarky voice cut through the conversation.

“Aaaaand that’s enough of that.”

The light suddenly faded and Wood fell heavily on his feet… all four of them. He grunted, his breath much heavier than before. Standing on some sort of enormous, rotating golden cog, he found his reflection to be much different from before. He now stood on four legs, his ‘arms’ having turned into forelegs but without any loss of flexibility or muscle definition. As he lifted his head on a thick, serpentine neck, he realised he was many times bigger than his 7 foot frame. He was a titan, a true dragon. With a roar, he spread his massive wings, each one at least thirty feet long to fit his tremendous body. He maintained a humanoid muscled chest, something that he was quite proud of and he could feel his genitals swinging behind his tremendous rear legs. Strangely, there were powerful machinery mounted on his back right between his wings. Craning his neck, it appears to be some sort of backpack equipped with engines. His forearms were also wrapped in enormous chainguns with barrels capable of shredding a man into a fine, red paste within seconds. A weight at the end of his tail brought his attention to the sharp, metal spikes running down his spine which ended in a double-headed axe that capped the tip of his tail.

“I am complete,” he rumbled, his voice enough to shake the earth. “I am Calibre!”

“So you’ve given yourself a new nickname. How cute.”

His attention was brought to the source of the voice. It was not Asmodeus’. It was someone else’s. A creature no bigger than he used to be draped in gold and white robes, features hidden by a hood and bearing six wings made of blades.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Wood growled.

“I am Haamiah. The God of Time.”

“There is only one true God and you are not him.” He rose to all four of his feet, towering over Haamiah at an easy fifty feet tall.

“Godhood is a subjective matter. Look down upon an ant and you can be their god of life and death. Yet you can be easily squashed by any ‘God’ that looks down upon you. Speaking of which…”

Haamiah waved a hidden hand. An enormous clock face sprang up beneath Wood. Its hands were set at just a mere five and a half minutes.

“What is this?” he grunted.

“I’m sorry. Would you prefer digital time? I though the analog look would be more dramatic.”

“No!” He stamped a foot at the clock but did nothing with the strange aura. It seemed to just be made of light and magic. “What’s with the clock!?”

“Ah. That is how long it will take me to erase your existence entirely. Five minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

He glanced up at the God in shock. “What!?”

“Your existence endangers my Champion. Since he is incapable of defending himself right now and I’ve rather grown fond of him, I thought to intervene.”

“Your Champion?”

“Yes. Jack Denver Clarke.”

A crack appeared in Wood’s heart and it bled, hurting him. The power had been overwhelming. He hadn’t even considered what his sudden appearance as a fifty-foot dragon would do to those around him. JD was just a few feet behind him when he had killed Konseral. Would he have killed the Wulfun?

Then he shook his head, glaring daggers at Haamiah. “So what? JD is your pawn!? You use him as your puppet to do your dirty work!? Is that it!?” He roared furiously, acid dripping from his muzzle. “When I was given Vulcan, I swore I would never be anyone’s shadow anymore. If I followed someone’s path, it would because I chose to and I could get off it any time I wanted! If JD is being dragged along because of you, then I’m going to free him from your tyranny!”

“Interesting. So you chose to be on Asmodeus’ path? Asmodeus, the Demon King. The very same Asmodeus who sent demons to Haven and ultimately caused Jack’s crippling and his subsequent alliance with me?”

Wood froze.

He’s right, he mused. Asmodeus isn’t any better! Why the fuck should I pledge my allegiance to him if he’s the one that did this shit to JD!? Maybe JD could’ve been a normal kid! Maybe we could’ve been friends from the start and maybe we could’ve…

He snapped his jaws and bared his fangs back at Haamiah. “Then fuck him! I’m not going to follow his path either!” Rising to his hindlegs, Wood lifted the chainguns on his forearms at Haamiah. “And I’m going to free JD from yours!” The guns whirred to life, spewing red-hot bullets straight at the God of Time.

The projectiles disintegrated to dust long before reaching the God.

“I see you’ve made your choice.” Haamiah waved a hand dismissively in his direction. “You have five minutes and thirty-two seconds to come to peace with it.”

The hands of the wraithlike clock began ticking. Wood ignored it.

“You can’t just erase me!” he shouted. “I will destroy you before you get the chance!”

Haamiah, perched over his golden throne, let out a soft chuckle. “Such a simple perspective on the world. How easy it must have been for Asmodeus to corrupt you.” The God spread his wings. “All of existence is bound to this realm, my realm. The Machine. Every cog you see before you, every gear, is an aspect of the world from the smallest molecule to the entire cosmos. Even you are but a fragment of this great Machine.”

To emphasis his point, a single golden gear emerged from the constantly ticking Machine and came to over in front of the God. It was starting to blacken like it was being taken over by some sickly, black rust. One of Haamiah’s wing blades drew towards the gear and scraped across its golden face.

Wood cried out in pain. A searing, golden gash sliced through his left foreleg.

“From within my Machine, I can eliminate anyone and everyone as I see fit. This is why when Asmodeus tried to usurp Tower Thirteen from the SERAPH Project, he could not defeat me. He boasted to you at being the one true God of this world. He is deluding himself. A true God does not need worshipers. A true God exists on the periphery of mortal consciousness; only interfering when the need is dire but never dependent on belief or constant prayer. A true God does not need the validation of others to prove they exist.”

A bolt of pain erupted from Wood’s chest and he stumbled. The clock continued to tick. Down a whole minute. He could feel himself growing weaker. The power that had once filled him was rapidly fading. Worse yet, he was finding it hard to even remember why he stood here, why he had become this… thing… What was he?

“What are you…” he croaked wearily in a voice so unfamiliar to him.

“I am undoing you, Wood Connors Bladebreaker. Your entire existence. Not just your life here in this moment. Everything up to this point is being erased. Gloria Connors never met Martin Bladebreaker. They never married and never had a son. Martin never sacrificed himself to be your hero and continued to live. Buster Wilde never would have latched onto you and he and Skye King would have been the best for friends. Jack Denver Clarke would never have been so openly bullied by you and Skye would have reached out to him early on as you would not have been there to pull his gentle heart back. Jack would’ve had a relatively normal high school career though his involvement with the Fuocotan and Reaching Flame would’ve been mostly unchanged. At the very least, he would not have felt so betrayed when you turned your back on the team for belief that you were chosen by some benevolent goddess. Moreover, you will not kill anyone with your emergence. Konseral will face judgement for his neglect. The Reaching Flame will be disbanded. The mission will be considered a success despite Char’s escape.”

Wood squeezed his eyes shut. Oddly, he felt lighter. Numb. “Everyone would’ve been better without me…”

“Perhaps. Then again, you will never know. You will never have existed so ‘better’ would be subjective.”

He sighed softly. Whatever fire had once burned in him had faded. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I can live with that.”

Whack!

Pain erupted from the side of his face and he immediately lifted his head. A small, cheap statue depicting a six-winged bird landed just inches from his nose.

“Better or worse,” Jack Denver Clarke snarled, “I’d consider myself poorer for never having met you.”

Stunned at the arrival of the still-injured and exhausted Wulfun, Wood lifted his head. He found strength pumping back through his limbs and managed to uncurl from the foetal position he had unwittingly placed himself in.

“JD… How…?”

Haamiah chuckled softly. “No matter the obstacle, the mortal soul will traverse space and time. I am very impressed, my Champion.”

JD flashed the God a challenging grin. “Comes from being able to weaponize my own Spirit energy. I felt you tugging at it trying to change the past and present. I couldn’t just sit around and let that happen especially not to Wood.”

“Admirable but you realise nothing can be done. Either he emerges from his Fall and crushes hundreds of people – you included – in his wake or I eliminate him here and now and none of that ever happens.”

JD began to unsheathe his blades, the bright, white blades of Validation cutting through the golden air of the Machine. “Five years ago, when I lost the ability to use magic, I made a promise. I would never let any of my friends or family die again while I watched. So I’m going to make you a deal, Wood, Haamiah.” He took up a fighting stance; holding the left blade in a reverse grip while the right was in a traditional forward grip. “I’m going to fight for Wood’s right to live. If he manages to beat me, he gets to stand. Kill whoever he needs to when he emerges but he’ll live. If I win…”

The Red Lightning grimaced, shutting one eye briefly. It was clearly an effort to remain standing. “I guess I’ll figure that out if I win.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Wood shouted. “Why would you let me live only for you to die!?”

“Because he does not want to see anyone he truly cares about die,” answered Haamiah. “Whether it be because you will crush people from your emergence or me obliterating you here and now, he will not stand idly by. He would rather die himself rather than let that happen again.”

Wood shook his head defiantly. “I’m not going to kill you, JD!”

“This isn’t about you!” JD shouted back. He brought his blade back up even though it was clearly hurting him to even raise his arms. “This is my selfish request. I watched my friends and neighbours get brutally tortured and eventually killed right before my eyes, Wood. Not a day goes by that I don’t ask why I got to live and they didn’t. I promised myself that I would never watch something like that happen again.”

He bared his fangs at Wood. “So fight me! Kill me so I won’t have to watch you die!”

Stunned by the confession, Wood came to realise what drove the Red Lightning’s lone wolf attitude. It was not a matter of JD bearing the sins of killing others so that his friends and family would not have to. The wolf placed himself in harm’s way so that he would never have to look back at the people he loved dying.

“JD…” he rumbled softly. “It’s hopeless. If I win, you die. If you win and we somehow get out of this, you’ll still be crushed when I come out of this. I mean, what’ll you even do if you win.”

“I don’t know okay?” JD snapped impatiently. “I’ll think of it then. Let’s just hurry up and fight.”

He’s on his last legs. He can’t keep standing for much longer.

Wood glanced at the clock beneath his feet. It was still ticking away. Only a minute and a half to go. Shaking his head, he looked towards JD with a gentle smile. “Just let me go, JD. I’m… I’m okay with this decision. It’s a path I chose.”

“I won’t let you die like that!” cried the red-furred wolf.

“Then just… look away.”

“No!” JD took a step forward and almost collapsed onto his knees there and then. “Not like this… Not again…”

Wood laughed softly, his heart breaking at the sight of the wolf that was fighting so hard to save him from a God. “I’ll make you a deal then,” he said. He gestured at the clock beneath his feet. “You have one minute, JD. One minute to think of what you’ll do if you win. Then I’ll fight you. I swear I’ll put everything I have into it. Give me a reason to fight.”

JD squeezed his eyes shut, wracking his brain. “I… If I win…”

“How about you follow him for the rest of your life?” Both boys turned towards the God in surprise. “The condition of Jack’s victory is that you must follow him for the rest of your life,” Haamiah clarified. “The one thing you’ve always fought for Wood, either successfully or not, is becoming a leader instead of a follower. So if Jack wins, you will give up the one thing you have strived for – your ability to choose your fate because it will be irrevocably bound to Jack’s. Forever.”

There was a spark of rebellion in Wood’s heart and fear. He looked towards JD and saw that the wolf was willing to take the deal. A growl rose from his throat, acid dripping from his fangs.

“Alright. Deal.”

“Then you better make it count,” Haamiah warned. “You have thirty seconds left.”

The fire within Wood’s chest was growing just as JD’s eyes blared up with ethereal blue fire.

“Ready for this, JD?” he roared.

“Since the day you first threw a fireball at my face.”

Wood threw back his head, crackling green energies gathering in his muzzle and lashing out between his fangs.

Then here I come! he cried mentally. Calibre Grade…

He heard JD’s softest whisper. “Ether Blade.”

… One!

Wood Bladebreaker threw his head forward, stretching as far as his neck would go. Raw, unbridled energy from deep within him launched from his muzzle, lancing out in the form of a scintillating emerald beam. His eyes shut. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Bright, white light filled his entire world.

The light only seemed to grow brighter and brighter. Even with his eyelids shut, it burned deep into his retinas. He fought past the pain, trying to keep the beam focused but it was like two sharp needles were driving right into his eyes and drilling into his skull. Instincts took over and he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the light, cracking his eyelids open by the faintest of slivers to see what the source was of that agonising brilliance.

It was Chrysalis Core.

And his hand… was a hand again.

“What…?” he croaked.

He was lying on his back, wings spread and staring straight up at the sky. The clear blue sky was unlike the blood-red, cog-filled skyscape of the Machine. A quick glance to his right and there was Konseral’s body, still looking shocked as ever. Members of the Reaching Flame were standing stunned at him and the Fuocotan were likewise on edge in cast a riot broke out.

Then he glanced to his left.

JD lying right beside him, eyes closed. It took him a second to realise that they were holding hands.

“JD…?” he whispered softly, squeezing the Wulfun’s paw lightly. “Are you…?”

A faint smile crossed the Wulfun’s lips and he lifted a finger towards his muzzle. “Ssssh. I’m dead.”

He wasn’t sure what had happened but… somehow, the Wulfun had saved him. He wasn’t that dragon anymore. He was… he was back.

“Thanks for saving me.”

Jack Denver Clarke kept his eyes closed but his smile widened. “Just don’t make this weird.”

Wood was still struggling to understand exactly what had happened but he was just thankful; thankful to have a friend like the Red Lightning beside him. A friend who would willingly defy a God just to save him. He felt that tear that had rolled down his cheek as it slowly slid down the back of his head and into the ground. It was quickly followed by another as he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I guess I’m bound to you now,” he chuckled. “Now and forever more.”

JD coughed though he was sure it was meant to be a laugh.

“Aaaaand you just made it weird.”