The first thing one must know in the heat of battle: who are your allies, and who are your enemies?
The Special Officers charging with Atoy Muzazi were not ones he'd personally met before, but he'd always heard them spoken of favourably. The content of their character was unknown to him, but their competence was not in doubt. For that, at least, he could be grateful.
Staying out in the open was not an option, what with the firepower Regiment RED still commanded. Before they'd landed, they'd gone through the best way to approach the base -- and Winston Grace had pointed it out to them immediately. This pyramid was surrounded by networks of natural caverns and tunnels, running all throughout the area. They'd landed near one of the entrances to the network -- by moving through it, they could get close while gaining cover from artillery.
As they passed out of the blazing outside to the darkness of the cave, Muzazi glanced at his temporary companions.
At first, he'd been leading the group, but Anastasia Darkdancer had quickly taken the front. She was a small Pugnant woman with star-shaped jewelry covering her blonde hair and red bomber jacket, a wild grin on her face as she weaved through obstacles. Weaved was the best word for it, for she was riding a hoverboard that granted her additional speed and maneuverability.
Perhaps it was some kind of Aether Armament, too? Difficult to tell.
"Be careful," grunted Mazel Rho, running alongside Muzazi. "Might be traps."
Mazel was a young man with black skin and short blonde hair, a bulky plasma rifle clutched in his hands as he ran. Plentiful canisters of plasma were laid out on a bandolier wrapped around his chest. Muzazi had been surprised when he'd heard this man's name. Someone with the blood of a former Contender would be fighting alongside him. Hopefully, that strength had been passed on.
"Agreed," gurgled Trucio Hartien Moldanado, a short ways behind. "Anyone who can fly should fly. Or at least not touch the ground."
The older man was a Scurrant with an extended and engorged throat, his wide flat eyes staring off in opposite directions as he ran. Once he finished speaking, he opened his mouth again -- and from that mouth three long and prehensile tongues lashed out, linking up to the ceiling.
It was a disgusting sight, but Moldanado swung from the rocks quite elegantly, pulling himself along without ever touching the ground.
The last of their number did not say anything, but Muzazi found himself looking at him all the same. He really couldn't help it. Jester Marble was a sight to behold, after all.
He was a Scurrant, like Moldanado, but of an entirely different breed. There was not the slightest trace of hair or blemish on his dark blue body, his skin visibly smooth and shiny. In place of eyes, he had vertical rows of long red orifices, three on each side of his face. They slowly breathed as Muzazi looked at them, reminding him of gills.
If Jester Marble noticed the attention, he did not show it. He just continued running at the back of the group, his hands planted together in a gesture of prayer. He had a necklace of prayer beads hanging from his neck, too. Perhaps he was the religious type?
Ordinarily, the tunnel they were running through would have been pitch-black, but their combined Aether illuminated their surroundings. Muzazi held his Radiant in front of himself like a lantern as they moved out of the tunnel and into a larger cavern.
This place was far better-lit than the rest of the cave, with electric lighting fixtures bolted onto the walls and ceiling of the cave. The room was empty, but Muzazi could see countless large square indentations on the cavern floor. Had they been using this as some kind of storage facility, then? If so, there must be a way into the main complex from here.
He was just turning his head to tell his comrades that -- when he noticed them.
He noticed them, clinging to the outside of the entrance they'd just run through.
He noticed them, staring at him with their glowing red eyes.
He noticed them, and the spears they carried.
Atoy Muzazi had never seen these things in person before, but he was familiar with history. During the reign of Gael the Golden, more than a hundred years ago, the Supremacy had attempted an invasion of Paradisas territory. It had been disastrous, and many powerful Aether-users had been killed. It was said that had been, in no small part, due to the elite automatics the Paradisas had dispatched.
Over the years of peace, they'd been phased out, but Muzazi recognised the design from the history books. The Executioners. Automatics designed specifically to kill Aether-users.
He opened his mouth to warn his colleagues --
-- when one of them shot him in the back.
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The third pod came down right outside the burning forest, forcing Paradise Charon to put a disgusted sleeve to her nose as she took in the stink of charred wood.
She'd dressed in green military camouflage for this venture, but it seemed she'd have been better off picking red. The Supreme truly didn't know any restraint at all. She checked the imaging of the battlefield on her script: it seemed he'd taken out the turrets on this side, at least.
"We've now got a blind spot on one side of the base," that kid Grace spoke over the communicator. "Changing the landing spots to take advantage."
The other Special Officers that had come down in this pod had already split up, seeking individual glory as they headed off with their mass-destructive abilities. Paradise Charon was the only one who had stayed at the landing zone -- her, and her companion.
Baron Lunalette de Fleur pulled one of his pitchforks from his Aether, twirling it over his shoulder as he stepped up next to her. A smirk played across his lips as he took in the sight of the inferno before them.
"Quite a view," he purred. "Is Atoy Muzazi nearby?"
Paradise crossed her arms. "Don't you worry about him. I've got him in hand. You have your role. I've sent you the new coordinates for the next few landing zones -- link up with the Special Officers there and cull the herd."
"Oh?" Lunalette raised an eyebrow. "How treacherous of you." He shrugged lightly. "But I'll do as I'm bid. It's a more invigorating task, at any rate."
With that, he began to stride off into the burning woods, whistling a merry tune as if he wasn't walking into a vision of hell. Paradise watched him as he went: such a curious man. He had the resources required to have anything he wanted and never work a day in his life, yet he still brought himself out to the battlefield in this way. Perhaps he was like Wu Ming, a battle junkie?
No. Paradise dismissed the notion immediately. Lunalette didn't care at all for fighting: he only enjoyed the slaughter that followed. Massacre was his relaxation. That hell was his element.
The Baron Lunalette de Fleur… at full power, he was one of the three Special Officers closest to the rank of Contender. Paradise almost felt sorry for the hapless dissidents he'd surely encounter.
Right on the threshold of the flames, the Baron turned and glanced quizzically at Paradise once again.
"You said Atoy Muzazi was in hand," he said. "Out of curiosity, how many infiltrators did you send with him? How many traitors are there on that team of his?"
Despite her best efforts, Paradise chuckled.
"What makes you think any of them aren't traitors?" she said.
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Muzazi's Aether blunted the blow, but he still found himself collapsing to the floor, a burning pain in his lower back. Red-hot plasma dripped to the floor.
The Executioners didn't miss their chance. There were three of them -- and with blinding speed they pounced, bringing down their spears towards Muzazi's prone form. Head, heart, spine -- each aimed for a different killing blow.
Thrusters blazed across Muzazi's side, sending him sliding across the ground and out of the attack's range. Their spears lodged into the ground as they stabbed the spot he'd just been, their heads snapping to follow his movement as he barely escaped death.
The pain in his back was excruciating. He'd been ready for an attack from the front, so the distribution of his Aether had been uneven. Hot anger flared through Muzazi's brain -- not at his enemies, but at himself. He'd fallen for it again.
More thrusters forced Muzazi to his feet, pushing through the agony. He turned his head to his supposed 'comrades' just in time to see their escape.
As Anastasia Darkdancer did a loop in the air, leaving tiny twinkling stars in the wake of her movement, Jester Marble ran through the exit beneath her. Maldonado and Mazel Rho remained in the chamber with Muzazi and the Executioners, positioning themselves so as to keep an eye on both parties.
Muzazi narrowed his eyes, positioning himself similarly -- and as he shifted his footing, those tiny, twinkling stars detonated, biting into the ceiling and causing a cascade of rocks to fall down over the exit. Fantastic. So now he was sealed in, too.
The Executioners will go after them as well, Muzazi thought, igniting his Radiants and lowering himself into a combat stance. They'll want to let me and the automatics soften each other up, and then take us both down.
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As if he would allow such a cowardly tactic.
Muzazi was just about to fly at the Special Officers -- when he felt pain, a new kind of pain, as if his skin was melting off. Heat buffeting against his body from above. Muzazi looked up -- and immediately, as a drop landed in his eye, he wished he hadn't.
An orange cloud hung directly above him, a constant rain of plasma falling from it directly onto his body. Muzazi moved to dodge, smoke already rising from his burns -- and the cloud followed, endlessly pursuing the spot right above his head. He slashed at it with his Radiant, and the attack passed right through.
"Rainy Day," Mazel Rho intoned, his eyes cold as he stared Muzazi down. "Sorry. There's no way to get rid of it."
One of his canisters was empty.
No way? Not the case. If this plasma control was Rho's ability, all Muzazi had to do was eliminate Rho. He lunged forward at the man with the rifle, intending to unleash a flurry of slashes before Rainy Day could catch up --
-- only to be stopped in his tracks as one of Maldonado's tongues whipped itself towards the back of his leg.
"It's nothing personal," said Maldonado, his wide eyes staring.
Muzazi was forced to whirl around to block the attack, but that gave the Executioners enough time to leap at him once again, spears reared back for killing strikes. In this situation, responding to one attack meant opening himself up to another.
The plasma rained down, hot as flame. The spears came down, fast as lightning. Muzazi gritted his teeth.
They thought he could be taken down by mere fire and lightning?
There was a silver flash as Muzazi moved, his hand becoming a blur for but the briefest of moments. A second later, the Executioners around him collapsed into pieces -- utterly dismembered. Their red eyes dimmed to black before shutting off completely.
If these people wanted him dead, they’d have to send better than antiques.
Plasma pouring down his face and eating away at his uniform, Muzazi glared up at his remaining two adversaries. He couldn't see out of one of his eyes, but that was fine. Against opponents like this, there was no need for him to see.
"Next," he snarled.
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The second his consciousness returned, Morgan Nacht pulled his saber free from his scabbard, leaping out of the pod into the forest beyond. The capsule had crashed through the woods, destroying the surrounding trees -- and Morgan found himself perching on a fallen log as he surveyed the area.
"Ionir?" he muttered. "Anything?"
That base is north of here, Ionir replied without a voice, its thoughts immediately apparent. The people there often come out into the forests. They have laid traps -- but the simpletons remember the locations. I will direct you.
"Right," Morgan nodded.
He glanced back towards the pod as another Special Officer emerged. A Scurrant with a cuboid head and thin, fuzzy brown hair. The man spun his mace in his hand as he looked around the clearing, before turning his own gaze to Morgan.
"Team up?" he croaked. "Easier to get points as a duo, I imagine."
Morgan considered it for a moment. Ideally, he'd prefer to have joined up with Muzazi before doing anything else, but there was no telling where the commander would be. This Cubed Man could potentially be one of Paradise Charon's people, but he didn't seem too strong. If it came down to it, Morgan was fairly confident he could take him.
"Sure," Morgan nodded. "My Aether ability helps with navigation. I can get us through the forest. Anyone else coming out of there?"
The Cubed Man looked back into the pod before cumbersomely shaking his heavy head. "It seems I'm the last one out."
Morgan frowned. Had everyone else just run off or something? If people were going to act like that, this wasn't an army. This was just a bunch of assholes running around in the woods with guns.
Enemy, said Ionir. The simpletons have spotted them.
Immediately, Morgan twisted his body in the direction relayed to him. "How far away?" he asked, voice low.
The Cubed Man furrowed his brow. "What?"
"My ability tells me about nearby enemies," Morgan lied, before asking again: "How far away?"
Two kilometres. They're… oh.
"Oh?" Morgan echoed.
Well… they're gone.
Morgan faltered for a moment. "They left?"
No, they disappeared. One second they were there, and the next -- MOVE!
Before Morgan could even wonder why his companion was suddenly so panicked, he heard a new voice speak. A voice he'd never heard before, coming directly from above. A voice that said just two words.
"Gemini World!"
Morgan leapt without looking -- and it was a good thing he did, too, for a second later the spot he'd been standing in had been obliterated. A man clad in a green cloak had come down out of the sky, destroying the log with a single kick from his muscular legs. As Morgan slid to a halt next to the Cubed Man, the two of them squared off against the new arrival.
The young man had antlers, Morgan noticed, as he threw his cloak over his shoulders. Another Scurrant?
"You guys must be the Supremacy, huh?" the man said -- it wasn't the same voice as that 'Gemini World' cry. "There aren't many of you. Don't worry, though -- I've got enough friends on the way for both of us."
Morgan held his sword out in front of him, and the Cubed Man did the same with his mace. The two of them could tell instinctively, as warriors, that this was a man who knew what he was doing. The way he'd destroyed the environment, and the cold relaxation in his posture… this was no stranger to murder.
That wasn't what caught their attention first, though.
"Do you realise…" Morgan said. "...that you're buck-ass naked?"
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Dragan reappeared for a second, emerging out of Gemini World and landing atop a cliff that overlooked the forest. Immediately, he put a hand to his ear.
"Where next?" he panted into the communicator.
Ever since the battle had begun, he'd been running back and forth, using Gemini World to ferry people to various destinations across the battlefield. Rest was an impossibility: their forces only had two Aether-users capable of rapid transportation, himself and a member of Regiment RED named Jacob. Jacob's ability, The Road Less Travelled, could transport many people at once -- but only non-Aether-users, and only across a preset path.
The task of getting their powerful attackers into position fell to Dragan, then. Ablos was powerful enough -- apparently -- that he should be able to deal with the Special Officers there himself until reinforcements showed up on foot. Dragan had to keep moving.
"Main pyramid," the operator's voice came back. "Klaus is starting to send out the sensory clouds -- the enemy will target him directly once they realise he's the source. Get del Sed to him as an additional bodyguard."
Dragan looked to the pyramid, and indeed he could see a great white fog beginning to billow out from within it. That cloud basically served as a permanent Aether ping for Klaus El -- he could sense the position and strength of anything it touched. Once it was distributed across the battlefield, it would be invaluable for information gathering.
Still… once the enemy came to understand what the fog did, they'd probably go after Klaus with everything they had. Worst case scenario, it could be a Contender gunning for him. Was that really something Bruno and Serena could handle…?
Dragan shook his head. The time for doubt had long since passed. He had his job now, and they had theirs. All they could do was follow the roads they'd made to wherever they ended up. Faith didn't even come into it.
"On it," Dragan replied to the operator, before falling back into Gemini World. The blue spark of Aether that was him zipped over the forest, heading back towards the pyramid.
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Paradise Charon took it all in, spreading her arms wide.
She could hear it, now -- the sound of warfare all around. Gunfire breaking through the woods, blades cutting into flesh, screams rising up towards the sky. Pillars of smoke rose from each of the landing pods -- now nine -- that had brought the Special Officers down to the planet.
Another would be descending in around thirty seconds time. Slowly but surely, the combined might of the Supremacy would overwhelm whatever petty malice Regiment RED had accumulated. In this world, justice belonged to the side with the greater numbers. Skill was not a concern. The moment there were more Special Officers on Elysian Fields than dissidents, the battle would effectively be over.
It couldn't come soon enough. Paradise narrowed her eyes as she looked at the dense woodland around her. Places like this reminded her of home.
Disgusting.
Her stroll through the forest paused for just a moment as she spotted something up ahead, slowly approaching. A wall of white mist, crawling over the ground and curling its fingers around the forest. Looking left and looking right, she couldn't quite see an end to the incoming wave. It was like the woods themselves were being devoured.
This was clearly some kind of Aether ability. What exactly it did, she could not say, but she was in no mood to let it hit her. Sighing softly to herself, she raised up her palm.
She didn't much like getting her hands dirty, but if it meant getting this whole production finished quickly? She'd grit her teeth and power through.
Closing her eyes, Paradise Charon opened her ears to her one and only real ally -- her Aether ability.
"Has the time come, Mistress? May we unburden ourselves?" queried the Forest of Sin.
"Let us out, Miss! Let us have our fun! Let us skewer and shave and scalp!" giggled the Forest of Sin.
"Do not meddle with us, witch. Release us. Release us now!" snarled the Forest of Sin.
Ordinarily, Paradise wouldn't want to encourage this kind of behaviour by caving in to her ability's demands… but in this case, for once, they were of a single mind.
She opened her eyes. Around a quarter of the total capacity should be sufficient.
Forest of Sin.
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For the purposes of battle planning, every member of Regiment RED had been provided with a medical implant. They constantly observed the status of their assigned unit, tracking their heartbeat, breathing, body temperature… reading every signal the human body could produce.
One signal reigned above all others, of course. In the end, it was the only one that mattered.
Death.
Klaus El hunched over the war table as he saw countless red blots of death sprout up over the battlefield -- forming a path directly towards him.
"Damn it!” he barked.
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The thing that exploded across the surface of Elysian Fields could not possibly be called a forest.
It was an abomination. A malignant tumour of wood and leaf, with rotted-black bark and blood-red fruit. The trees that formed it were twisted and grotesque, branches and trunks warped into the shapes of screaming faces and writhing bodies. Looked at from above, the massive new area of woodland -- nearly ten kilometres all around -- took on an even more unsettling shape.
The trees strangled around each other, the grass nibbled at itself, and the leaves grinned like wolves. They formed it. They formed the shape that crawled across the world.
It took the shape of a massive, malformed foetus, it's hand outstretched towards the pyramid. All in all, it formed a bridge from Paradise Charon’s position directly to the enemy base all by itself.
And then there was the noise.
The Forest of Sin giggled.
The Forest of Sin cackled.
The Forest of Sin screamed.