Outside the Holy City of Zeuriam, two teenagers are standing opposite each other. The sun is floating above the sea, and the tall city walls are casting shadows over the valley. The teenagers are standing just outside, in the center of a small woods, staring intensely at each other. Tall trees surround the two on both sides, casting shadows on the figures. The leaves are full, the thick wood overlapping them and blotting out the late afternoon light. The shadows cover the forest floor, providing a reprieve from the summer heat. Small pockets of light peeking through small holes in the forest’s leafy shield. The forest floor is covered with small shrubs and dead leaves, a combination of green and brownish orange spread as far as the eye can see. The shrubs and small trees obscure the horizon. A small creek flows through the forests, a few small fish flowing with the slow moving, clear water.
On the left, standing in a patch of sunlight, is a young man with short silver hair wearing a dark blue hakama, with grey pants. He’s slightly hunched over, his knees bent at a 70-degree angle. His left leg extending back away, and his right leg bent forwards towards his adversary. His right hand is hovering over the sheathed sword attached to the left side of his hip. His grey eyes are watching his opponent like a hawk.
Standing opposite is a short, young woman. She’s wearing a black, loose, long sleeve shirt that hugs her forearms. The hem of the shirt reaches halfway down her thighs, flowing out towards the ends. Baggy black pants go down to her claves, where her thin black boots start. The dark, opaque veil attached to the brim of her floppy hat covers her eyes and forehead, but leaves her nose and mouth exposed, her skin pale as a ghost, dotted with a few freckles.
The swordsman raises his hand, his middle and index finger pointed up, his other fingers closed around his palm. Violent wind whips up from behind the silver haired youth, and he dashes forward with long strides, riding the wind. His right hand continues to hover over the grip of his longsword. The veiled girl contorts her fingers, suddenly being pulled away from her opponent by a seemingly invisible force. She thrusts her hand outwards, and thick white strings fire from the air around her.
He wraps his hand around his sword, continuing forward, even as the threads are closing in on him. He breathes in, swings his arm in a wide diagonal cut from his sheathe upwards, unsheathing his sword and cutting through multiple threads in an instant. The shredded remains gently floating to the ground, leaving a trail of white in the swordsman’s wake.
The veiled figured flicks her hand upwards, and is pulled up into the air, towards the canopy of the tall trees towering above them. The grey-haired youth crouches down, the winds converging around him, the grass around him being flattened. He leaps towards the canopy, the winds violently bursting upwards, boosting his leap. He extends his feet, using his momentum to run up the trunk of a tall tree, the winds still boosting his speed.
The young woman closes her left hand and pulls her arm back with a wide swing. A thick net of strings appears to the right of the young man. He pivots around the tree to dodge, but the web continues to follow him. Running out of momentum, he pushes off the tree, his sword raised as the net closes in, the air surrounding the front of the blade.
“Windfury Cutter!” He yells, slashing diagonally downwards across the web net, splitting the capture device into two. The air surrounding the blade bursts outwards, shredding the net into tiny threads, falling gently to the ground.
The veiled figure outstretches her tense fingers, pulling her arms across her body. Thick threads appear from multiple angles, surrounding the swordsman. The swordsman raises his free hand, using a blast of wind to blow himself down towards the ground, away from the threads, which make a sharp turn downwards to follow him.
Jumping back to avoid the first thread, he slashes horizontally at the thread as he dodges. The three remaining threads surround him from above, threatening to grab him. In quick response, the young man condenses the air around him, and unleashes it, shredding one of the threads. Using the rest of the air around him, the swordsman knocks himself away, creating distance between himself and the remaining threads. He lands, skidding on the forest floor for a second, slowing to a halt.
While this occurs, the young woman lowers herself to the ground, almost as if levitating in the air while doing so. Her arms are hover at her side, fingers outstretched. Landing on the ground, she points at the young man, and the remaining threads rush towards him.
The swordsman readies his blade in a defensive stance, holding it in front of his body. The first thread sneaks in from above him. Keeping his weapon close to his body, he raises the blade, allowing the thread to grind across the edge of his blade, unravelling the thread with the friction between the edge and the thread. The second thread is far more direct, aimed right at the swordsman’s chest. He steps to the side, lowering his body as he runs forward, dodging underneath the thread, which lands on a tree behind him, sticking to the trunk.
“Tch,” The mysterious figure thrusts her arms out at the swordsman, who continues to rush forward. A web net fires out from each hand, headed straight for the advancing warrior.
The young man raises his blade, and violent winds swirl around his blade, distorting the air all around him. “Gale Storm!” he makes the gesture with his left hand from before, and the winds around him burst out in every direction, shredding the nets as they collide. The winds explode outwards, cutting through the thin tree branches and leaves around him. Tiny webs all around them, almost invisible, are strewn about.
All the while, the swordsman continues to close the distance on the pale woman, his weapon raised. She makes a pulling motion with her left arm, but to no avail. Realizing her traps have been foiled, she turns and sprints away through the forest. However, her pursuer easily navigates the forest floor full of low grown vegetation, easily outrunning the pale girl. 20 meters become 10 meters in the blink of an eye, and the wind user enters strike range.
“Gotcha!” He quickly compresses his legs, and leaps forwards, using the wind to give him extra lift.
However, his momentum suddenly cuts short midair, as if he suddenly froze. Falling forward, his face plants itself firmly into the ground, getting a mouthful of dead leaves and dirt. “What the hell?!” He looks back, and his eyes widen. Wrapped around him are a few thin, but sturdy webs, previously hidden and protected underneath the leaves and vegetation of the forest floor. The swordsman shifts his weight, and tries to move his hand, to no avail.
The webs creep up his limbs, further ensnaring the swordsman as he tries to free himself, unable to move his hands, arms, or legs. Thick webs shoot down from the trees, coiling around his torso, leaving everything but his head covered.
The young woman’s lips bend, giving just the hint of a smile as she approaches her captive. Her veil continues to obscure her eyes, and her intentions. She lifts her right arm, closing her fingers into a fist, and pulling her arm down. The threads hanging from the trees lift the silver haired swordsman into the air, hanging his body meters above the ground.
The girl lifts the veil from the front of her face, revealing her green eyes, and thin, freckled face. “G-good fight…” She pulls the brim of her hat down, despite having just lifted the veil.
“Yeah!” The boy replies with a wide grin, despite his current predicament. “I wasn’t expecting you to pull a fast one on me like that!”
“That was sloppy, from both of you,” a voice calls, a dark silhouette emerging from the trees above, dropping to the forest floor and landing and rolling before hopping to his feet. He walks over towards the two with his arms crossed, shaking his head.
The man, no older then early 20’s, is medium height, with olive skin. His eyes are covered by dark grey bandages tied around his head. Unkempt, but clean black hair sprawls outwards, covering his forehead and covering parts of his bandages, and reaches halfway down his neck. The popped collar of his dark, long sleeved shirt covers his mouth, the zipper hanging just below his nose.
He pulls out a kunai from the straps of his utility belt, and without looking, he snipes the thread holding the swordsman in the air, causing him to fall, landing on his side.
The silver haired swordsman wiggles to his feet and bows, the threads still wrapped tightly around his body. “Master Zello!” His slim, brown eyes raised towards the senior figure. “I apologize for my performance!”
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Zello shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me, Hajime,” He rests his hands in his pockets, looking to the girl, and back to Hajime. “If you have energy to apologize, you have energy to analyze your mistakes improve,” He catches the kunai as it falls, hooking his index finger through the ring.
“Sor- I mean, yes Zello-Sensei!” Hajime stammers, raising his body back to a standing position. “What did I do wrong? Was it technique? Timing?” He asks expectantly.
“You need to read the battlefield, and know your win conditions,” Zello begins explaining. “This is actually an issue for both of you, so listen up, Rali,” He turns towards the veiled girl.
“Y-yes Master!” Rali answers with a small nod,
Zello shakes his head, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “You of all people should have already gained an understanding of tempo control in battle learning under me,” He reprimands the girl. “And I’ll have to tell Toyo that you’re lacking in that particular area as well,” The strict instructor turns his head towards Hajime, who’s still bound by the threads.
“What do you mean by tempo?” Hajime asks, leaning to the side to avoid falling over, his legs still bound together.
Zello pauses for a moment, briefly considering his words. “Well, what I mean is…” The teacher begins explaining going into depth on the nature of each apprentice’s power.
Rali bites her lip, turning towards Hajime. Their eyes spoke the same; They were in for one of Master Zello’s long lectures.
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In a large equipment room, filled with all sorts of training weapons and target dummies, a teenage boy and a young woman are talking. The room is dim, with the only light source being the early evening sun streaming in through the small windows lined with small stone bricks, painting a small part of the room a brilliant orange. The boy is sitting in the corner, washing his singed face and blonde hair with water from a large bucket, small embers still hanging off the side of his head. He turns around, facing a woman in her 20’s, with fiery, orange hair.
“Master Fanvella, did you really need to be so rough with your flames?” The teenage boy asks.
“What I used today was only the next step up from your own,” The woman, Fanvella, answers curtly she turns around, facing the blazing sun steaming in through the windows. “Your power gives your body resistance to flames, but you need to train that resistance, or you will hurt yourself later” A tiny flame dances across the palm of her hand, before bursting away into a puff of smoke.
“But Master, my flames are already on par with the higher year pyro acolytes,” Leo dries his face, standing up from the bucket. He’s half a head shorter than the woman. He meets his teacher’s intense red eyes with his softer, green eyes for a moment, before looking away. “Do we really need to keep rushing my training?” The student scratches the side of his neck.
“You get to join then on the mock missions do you not?” Fanvella shakes her head, turning around to face her apprentice. “When you graduate to becoming a Knight of the Order, you will be forced to undertake missions where your life we be at stake,” She continues, meeting her apprentice’s eyes.
“Y-yes master!” Leo stammers, leaning forward. “But-“
Fanvella walks past Leo, towards the door. “If you understand, then this conversation is over,” She makes a slicing gesture with her hand, cutting off any potential complaints from Leo.
Suddenly, as Fanvelle reaches the door, it slams open. The woman barely has time to jump out of the way, just avoiding being smacked in the face by the heavy wooden door. “Helloooooo Illean-chan!” A man in a grey hakama calls in a sing-song voice, barging right into the training room. “I’ve been looking all over for you! I’ve got some important news!”
Fanvalla sighs, holding her head with her right hand. “I’m quite busy as you should know…” She growls, narrowing her eyes at the carefree man. “And shouldn’t you be filling for the absent council member?!” She narrows her brow.
“Awww, why so formal Illean-chan?” Toyo Mizuki teases with a cocky grin. Fanvalla grits her teeth at the nickname. Toyo sighs, pouting. “I was stopping by to let you know we were assigned a mission!”
She cocks an eyebrow at the grey eyed man, cross her arms. “Oh really? And just what would it happen to be?”
Toyo quickly scans the area, making sure they were the only ones inside the equipment room, before closing the door behind him. “You know the incident in Tehram; The one with the vigilante?” He asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Well, I convinced the Council it should be investigated!” He brags, giving a wide, blinding grin.
Fanvalla presses both hands against her face. “By Indara… You didn’t…” She groans,
“And so, our team has been assigned to investigate the matter!” Toyo gives his exasperated teammate a thumbs up. “Oh, and bring Leo, ” He pauses for just a moment to catch his breath. “Anyways, we leave tomorrow! We meet in the courtyard! See you there!” Toyo backpedals out of the room, a stupid grin still hanging on his face.
Illean reaches out to try to grab Toyo, who leans away from her hand. She grits her teeth, stepping forwards. “Wait, you irresponsible troglodyte-“
Toyo runs off from the room, laughing all the while.
Flames flicker up and down Illean’s arms and neck, red as the sun outside. “Gah! Toyoooooo!” She yells, pulling at her hair.
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The trio of Master Zello, Rali, and Hajime walk through a grand stone archway, inscribed with a multitude of reliefs carved going up the arch. Each of them is life sized, with many of the reliefs including the likeness of a tall woman with long hair. The carvings are of none other than Indara. The art style is reminiscent of ancient carvings, old as the Order of Indara itself. The archway is almost like a barrier, the three-story inner-city buildings and cobblestone streets transforming to an older, ancient aesthetic. Twenty-foot walls extend out from the archway, circling around the entirety of the Grand Temple campus, including the Order’s baracks.
Along the polished limestone road, which reflects the pink sunset, marble statues of the founding members of the Order line the edges. Farther down, multiple paths split off the main road, each leading into a bright green garden with a variety of light blue flowers hanging from the bushes. An assortment of trees dot the garden, deliberately spaced between multiple sets of bushes and flowers. Each plant is trimmed and kept to a specific length.
Towering above the city and the garden, is the Grand Temple of the Order of Indara. It’s built of grey stone bricks, painted with a faint, faded shade across certain levels, forming a giant, fortress like building. Running along the front, are giant, stained glass windows, depicting a myriad of scenes. From a swordsman stabbing a deity, to Indara herself standing in front of the sun. Along the sides of the Temple, buttresses support the gargantuan structure. At the top of this mountain of a temple, is a large, stained glass dome. Holding up the dome are ribbed vaults made of stone, arching all the way across the dome.
To both sides of the Temple, large barracks, comparable to a fort, pale in comparison to the Grand Temple, despite the combined size of each building put together equaling a palace. Knights and Acolytes of the order move to a from these barracks, either going to their duties, training, or turning in after a long day at work.
“Finally, Rali, you can’t be trying to risk direct combat versus an opponent with such a higher tempo then you. You need to wear them down, force a mistake!” Zello finishes his lecture as he leads Rali and Hajime down the polished marble path.
Rali responds with a tiny nod, her eyes fixated towards the ground.
“I’ll make sure to remember for next time sensei!” Hajime nods.
“Giving them a lecture so late, Luco?” Toyo walks up as the trio enters the courtyard. “You really take after your Sensei, don’t you?” He chuckles.
“And with how careless you are, you might as well be the splitting image of yours!” Luco Zello shakes his head. “What do you need Toyo?”
“We have a mission tomorrow,” Toyo explains. “I convinced the council to investigate at Tehram, and the Chairman decided that our team would be assigned to the mission!”
“So let me get this straight: You spoke out of line and got us in trouble?” Luco rephrases with a scoff, readjusting the bandages tied around his eyes. “What time do we depart?”
“Tomorrow at dawn!” Toyo announces with a grin. “And we will be bringing our apprentices!” He adds, raising his index finger.
“Really!” Hajime looks up, his eyes bright. “We get to go on a mission?”
“And just who decided that?” Luco asks, pressing his middle and index fingers against the bridge of his nose.
“I did,” Toyo answers with a straight face. “Our students could use with some real field experience. And with the war going on, it’s hard to come by missions with a relatively low level of risk,” He points out.
“I suppose it isn’t a major problem if it’s just an investigation…” Luco gives in. “Alright Rali, pack some bags and get to bed early tonight,” He instructs. The girl nods, looking away out of habit.
“Same goes for you Hajime!” Toyo orders sternly. “If you aren’t here at the crack of dawn, we might just leave you behind!” He warns with a chuckle.
“Yes Sensei!” Hajime nods, running off on the path to the right side of the Grand Temple, towards the apprentice’s dorms.
“W-wait up!” Rali calls out quietly, following behind him. She pulls down her veil over her face as she runs by a few other apprentices of the Order.
“So,” Toyo turns to face Luco. “I’m quite excited to meet Tehram’s vigilante, if you know what I mean?” He closes his eyes, keeping his face straight.
“Someone gave me the details of the report,” Luco looks towards the ground. “So, you also think our vigilante is Taurise?” He asks, his face dead serious.
Toyo takes a moment to consider, laying his back against a short tree. “It’s highly likely. No… I think it can’t be anyone else. The way Serian was killed leaves no room for doubt” He looks up at the sky. A few leaves blow through the wind, right by Toyo’s face. “I find it quite ironic though, that we would be the ones to bring him back.”
“We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves just yet…” Luco smirks. “But if things go as planned, I should finally be able to give him a piece of my mind!” The darkly dressed fighter walks on the left path, making way to the Knight’s quarters. Taurise… I hope you’re alright… His eyebrows soften. He looks up towards the large dome at the top of the Grand Temple, the light reflecting off the stained glass.