Luke returned to the main city road.
The city began to experience light rain. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, mixing well into the midnight. After Luke’s stunt, Sylen’s unmentionables left him alone. The dull instincts of civilian life allowed the monic and the minor amount of the other races in the streets to soon busy themselves, walking around him without a care.
He wiped off the remnant blood on Xera’s wand shaft; his feet produced an audible slap into the forming puddles pooling onto the caved-in cobblestone areas. While following Wayfinder’s directions through Devil’s Needle, Luke enjoyed the intermixing, hushed conversation around him.
Unfortunately for those who wanted privacy, his senses were too refined for it to be an effective measure. Luke wondered if the ascended, combat or non-combat, subconsciously filtered out most noise. Hearing too many separate conversations at once for too long chafed his mind.
Luke felt the rising humidity, but in addition, the pressure in the back of his head began to increase once more.
Still not enough? Better hurry.
He amped up his speed, navigating the night crowd at a brisk pace, right below a jog. Water splattered with each step, Luke’s eyes set, and his body leaned forward. His linen shirt was becoming soaked, not to mention the wool pants. At least his boots held up well.
A group suddenly stopped inches in front of him without warning. He swerved around them, twisting to avoid collision. Luke passed by closed stalls, open bars, and the lower part of the city’s red-light district. Women of various races called out to him, trying to generate business.
Before Luke could get tempted by the whispers of debauchery, Wayfinder guided him into the nearby slums. Luke followed twisting back roads, unkempt pathways, and poorly lit homes. He noticed it was only here that guard patrols became absent.
The regular city folk became sparse. Even monic individuals were hard to spot. Other than feeling a spattering of fearful gazes coming from worn-out abodes, human presence became minimal.
Without other individuals in the way, Luke smashed his feet against the streets, beginning to use his building agility stat. The untrained eye would barely be able to trace Luke at a distance. The needle spun this way and that way; Luke felt he was being taken on a goose chase by now. Only paranoia stopped him from asking Wayfinder where in the nine hells he was taking him.
The needle spun in circles, then pointed directly into the sky. Luke was in a cramped division between two buildings. He flexed his legs and pressed essence into them. Jumping vertically, he kicked out against one building, then quickly repeated the measure on the opposite building.
He sprang up high enough to scale onto a roof, where Wayfinder’s Needle pointed directly at a grand building constructed of gemstones, an unknown metal and crystal, connected to two short towers. Even at night, its abyssal black metal stood out, scared by red swirls. Yellow-crowned its edges. The structure appeared to be the tallest in the entire eastern quadrant of the city, although the black-silver tower and plenty of buildings in the west towered higher.
Careful not to slip, Luke sprang from roof to roof, covering plenty of distance in record time. Guards posted in the towers that dotted the city glinted arrows in his direction but never fired. A few mages with the city’s emblem tracked his movement.
The unsaid action evident, cause destruction, and we’ll shoot.
It came as no surprise to Luke that treating roofs as springing boards to move faster was frowned upon by the city. The Reaver preferred to be despised by cranky night guards, then find out what happened if he failed to reach Wayfinder’s destination in time.
Rather than slow down from the deterrence, he sped up further still. The buildings in the city must’ve been well made, as even the less maintained dwellings experienced no damage from him near-crashing onto them.
Luke spread essence to his eyes, multiple air pockets in human form shimmered around him at a distance. Some were observing, and others clearly intended to do more than watch. Even now, a couple came in his direction, moving above his own speed.
The closer he came to the building, the more disruptions appeared; Luke bounded from one building, in an alleyway between his jumps, he witnessed a congregation of people in red robes staring back at him.
Two figures in velvet tracked him at a distance. The target of Wayfinder’s ability was in sight. Burly tora men casually watched as he passed by, taking notes. An elf in yellow and blue clothes jumped in Luke’s way.
Not daring to get caught up in too many factors outside his understanding, Luke threw caution to the wind. Infusion emanated from his hand, and the fresh application buffed his speed. The unanticipated acceleration caught the elf unawares, and Luke blasted right by.
Luke suddenly heard a faint caw in the distance.
About time. Should reach the building soon. Who are all these people? Some expected me. Why? What’s going on?
The Reaver was less than four buildings away from reaching Wayfinder’s guided destination. The white area on Wayfinder’s directional surface decayed further, the black bubbling skulls eating away. The needle began to shake.
Luke spiraled onto another building and then the next.
Two left to go.
Four robbed figures flashed onto the building Luke was going midair toward. None shared the same attire, each sporting a different theme. Listening to his screaming instincts that stopping would lead to irreversible consequences, Luke held nothing back. Unable to wait the additional seconds for Sooty to catch up, Luke Infused Xera and readied to fire Essence Lance.
The robbed figures each blasted a spell toward Luke. Instead of firing Essence Lance to try and force open a hole, Luke aimed Xera behind his feet. The recoil from forming Essence Lance and immediately imploding it launched him further into the air. Guards fired their arrows, not at Luke, but at the four figures who initiated the conflict.
Citizens on the ground area began to scream, doors shut, windows closed. Weakly lit lanterns went out. From Luke’s vantage point, he could see guard patrols around the city rushing to his location.
Each of the four began to chant to a similar cadence, and a barrier started to enclose around Luke. The gap in the sky from the barrier rapidly grew smaller. Two of the malicious beings revealed sneering smiles. None spoke, although their actions gave Luke enough volumes to figure out their intention.
They wanted to trap him here, or at the least, to slow him down. Two red-robbed humans were rapidly closing in on him coming from the south gate.
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“Blast again, Luke! I don’t like the feeling of these guys,” Xera said; in the active circumstance, the sword wand couldn't care less if people overheard her.
Luke used Temporal North and repeated the same tactic; he flew extraordinarily high into the sky, clearing above the hurriedly formed barrier, escaping it right before it closed him within. His trajectory would take him directly to the building entrance. He glanced behind. The failed barrier rapidly blackened, and Luke couldn’t peer within, even with essence imbuing his eyes and the vision stat.
Unperturbed, the team of four turned around and aimed a new round of spells toward Luke. The Reaver summoned Essence Fissure. Concerned for the innocents caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time, he aimed it toward the sky.
The four bolts sundered the air but were forcibly uplifted past their trajectory, missing Luke. He plummeted through the sky; he adjusted his body to land in the grassy courtyard before the abyssal black building with red gemstones adorning it.
Sooty caught up and gripped her talons onto the back of his shirt, trying to slow his fall. The measure helped, but the shirt’s back gave out before Sooty could help her Reaver. She hurriedly bestowed an Iron Feather.
Luke gulped; this was going to hurt.
“No, it’ll be worse than that.” He sighed and looked at Xera, “From this point forward, Xera, everyone is going to know who or what you are.” Luke transformed Xera into a sword. He hadn’t accumulated the experience to pull off this tactic in wand form and helplessly revealed to unsavory actors that Xera was a two-form weapon.
Luke surged all the frost essence he could muster and jammed it into Xera. He spread his legs, and the ground occupied more of his vision area. He flexed his arms and slashed out close to landing. The counterforce harshly recoiled his body against gravity.
He landed, and Luke felt his bones fracture; he rolled with the force, trying to dissipate more of it. Ignoring the screaming pain in his legs, he rushed toward the building entrance. The frost he released sucked in by the grass in a blink of an eye. A man with two swords clapped slowly, each sheathed on a separate hip. He looked aged toward the end of his fifties, perhaps. Underneath the mysterious man was an etching carved into the building.
“The Defier’s Guild,” Luke said.
The man ceased clapping, before Luke truly took in his appearance, he vanished. But a voice entered Luke’s ears, “Go in, Aspirant Luke, worry not about the refuse of society. Instead, prepare for a greater test.”
A sword hum pervaded Luke’s senses, and multiple blades formed in the air, rotating around the entrance. Luke rushed inside, and the swords crossed each other after he passed.
The Reaver heard the same voice yell, “Rats of the underworld, parasites of man, High Defier Musai has come to wet his blade. Invade my domain if you dare.”
Luke began to control his breathing, but sweat streamed down his body from the pain in his legs. He managed not to break anything, but from the current agony, he certainly came close. He laid eyes on the health potion icon. It was off Cooldown. He took one out the Inventory and gulped it down, returning the empty vial to his storage.
The pain in his legs lessened but remained a stark presence nonetheless. Luke strode forward, and Sooty landed on his right shoulder, greeting her absentmindedly. He took in the interior of the building.
Right after the entrance stood four painted statues; he was in a short display hall, and each statue stood opposite another, with black cloth trimmed with yellow leading up to a giant opening leading further to the interior. To reach the area, one had to pass by the statues.
Luke took a cursory glance over each as he passed, missing details yet receiving an essential picture of each statue.
On the right, first out of the two statues on that side, stood a tora warrior, gigantic in size, his eyes full of wrath. He held a massive black battle axe, paired with gleaming white plate. Next to the tora was a depiction of a monic man with multiple elements circling his arrow; his hands drew back a bow made of silver. A sneer colored his expression. Red-black chain mail covered most his body, save his face.
Luke inspected the left side next. A druidic elf woman caressed a staff. A wreath of wood and glowing leaves crowned her head. Blond hair hung over her chest. Leather clung to her figure, green pulsed from her eyes. A brown cape carved in mid-flutter came away from her body. Three summoned ancient treants stood behind her, each casting a spell.
He scrutinized the next statue and stopped dead in his tracks.
The facial features were foreign to him, but the eyes were the same. A human woman with heterochromia white and red eyes stared back at him. An imitation of essence swirled around her entire body. Dark leather and cloth outlined her powerful muscles. The first Reaver held a sword in one hand and a tome in the other. Black hair partially lifted into the air, and the rest dropped against her back.
A white-scaled drake slept before her feet. Out of the four, the first Reaver’s expression displayed one of utter dominance. Devil’s Needle pointed in between the two statues and finally ended; whatever Luke was to do, it was here, at the Defier’s guild.
“Who are the other three then?” Luke said, asking rhetorically out loud, not expecting an answer.
A gorgeous elf woman with high cheekbones, brown hair, and blue eyes peaked her head out from behind the druid woman’s statue. Two beasts stared back at Luke, one an owl with blue feathers, paired with amber eyes and a grey-white bear with storm sparks coming off its body. The three each only exposed their head, making for an interesting sight to Luke.
“They’re the founding Defiers, silly; who else would they be?”
Even with the friendly answer to his out loud question, Luke tensed. His honed senses completely missed this woman’s presence, including the two beasts by her side. Had she not revealed herself, Luke would’ve been none the wiser to her being so near him.
However, reminded of the man’s earlier instruction, he calmed down. This elf woman was likely a member of the Defier’s guild, perhaps an advanced hunter.
“And who might you be?” Luke asked.
The woman walked out completely; thin mail covered her, and a short bow was holstered to her right hip. A quiver angled to the side against her lower back. She skipped a step and then skirted forward; she put both her hands behind her back, each hand holding the opposite wrist, and lowered her upper body while tilting her head.
She noticed Sooty, “Finally! Another person with a bird companion, Lulu, don’t you think you could be friends?” The woman moved her eyes to peer at the owl walking beside her.
The owl turned her head toward Sooty and let out a single hoot. Sooty tried to hide a bit behind Luke’s shoulder.
Lulu, the woman’s owl, immediately let out a defeated hoot and floundered on the floor.
“Now, Lulu, the new guy’s bird is shy, just like you,” She stood straight and put her hands against her hips, “You’re a big girl. You’ve got to be nice and try more than a single hoot!”
The owl looked up, then down again, a slight aura of defeat surrounded the bird. The white-gray bear with thunder sparks around its fur sat down next to the owl. He pressed his snout against the bird and tried to groom her feathers.
“Nice thinking, Timber, that’ll encourage Lulu.” The elf woman crouched down to her owl, seeming to have forgotten all about Luke. She scratched the owl’s feet.
Luke pushed Sooty a bit with his cheek, “Go on, Sooty, making a new friend can’t hurt.”
“Caw. Rattle.”
“The owl is powerful, so you’re shy?” Luke chuckled at the incredulous reaction.
He patted Sooty on the head, “Sooty, how many other friendly birds have you met since you came to this place with me?”
“Coo. Click.”
“Right? None. So go say hello; I’ll walk up there with you.”
Luke paced slowly to the owl, then lowered himself and unfurled his arm to the ground. Sooty hesitantly hopped down Luke’s arm and began to try communicating with Lulu. Soon, the two made bird noises at each other, then flew off to perch on the Tora warrior’s statue, becoming fast friends.
The elf woman wore a radiant smile at the display. She told Luke, “You don’t have a bear companion, too, do you? Timber here could use another friend.” She pointed to her bear with lightning sparks.
Scratching behind his jaw, Luke said, “Afraid Sooty’s my only companion. And part of me prefers it that way.” He looked over to the bear, “Sorry, Timber.”
The bear seemed nonplussed at the issue, only occasionally looking up to check on the owl.
Not exactly a social maestro, Luke bluntly went into conversation with the elf woman, “I’m Luke, and who are you? Nice to see someone else with a companion class. I remember Way-“
Wayfinder shook on Luke’s neck, preventing a total slip of the tongue.
Luke coughed, “Anyway, I’m here to try and become a Defier, any idea how that works?”
The elf woman wore a slight smile and said, “Old sword Musai told me you were coming, Aspirant Luke.” Her expression became sharp and less animated, “I’m Defier Iona, a Beastmaster.”
She rose to her feet, and Luke mirrored her. She looked over Luke closely before nodding her head.
“You’ve done your research, showing up at the bare minimum to be considered for the singular novice Defier position in Sylen. Come with me, Aspirant, to the testing area reserved for those who wish to become masters of their fate instead of wallowing in this world as chattel of the god-creatures.”