LEGIONARY

ANGEL: ONE MILLION

…

| Nimbus Rehabilitation HQ.

| Interrogation Room #2.

"You’re wasting your breath.”

“And you’re wasting your time!”

Clearly, Alvira was starting to reach her limit with her prisoner.

“You could’ve been out of here as soon as I stepped in, but you seem to have a talent for being a stubborn prick whereas you should be learning to hold a conversation.” Venom spat from every word that the colonel spoke. “So I’ll ask you again, Mr. Hildryn—what were you doing in Connecticut four days ago?”

“Why are you the one asking me the questions?” He’d fire back. “Last I checked, I was cuffed and brought in by the easter bunny back there. Did something happen behind the scenes that I don’t know about?”

The paperwork that went into handing Terios to Gladiolus was less of a legal issue as it was a tolerance issue. This went specifically for Nimbus Rose, who didn’t have a single record on the guy’s name or background but were convinced that he was a Coalition agent undercover—but without the evidence to back it up besides a hunch from Riley born of sheer disdain, they had to leave this to Alvira, who was starting to lose her patience with the Half-Torjin dogboy that sat across from her in the interrogation room. She promised—hell, she put it in writing—that she would have what Nimbus Rose wanted out of this guy in less than twelve hours. Terios hadn’t budged in three days, and Riley was starting to get anxious.

He was seated between Loki and Remnaya on the outer wall of a pane of tinted glass, rocking back and forth with his mouth hidden behind clasped fists. What if he was right? No, what if he was wrong? If this guy wasn’t Six-Star, then where did he come from?

Riley had advised Dreida to stay away from the interrogation due to still recovering from her fight on Europa, but now, he wasn’t even sure if he himself wanted to be there. There was too much uncertainty in a situation too precious to keep still. Maybe he’ll go join her. Maybe he should go look and see what Caleb was doing. Maybe he shouldn’t be sitting in this room at all.

“I never should have signed that damn waiver.” His words drew Remnaya’s eyes towards him in a heartbeat. She had a knack for sensing the uneasiness in people, and if Loki wasn’t going to speak up, then she would.

“You’re talking crazy, boss. And stop rocking, you’re gonna give yourself a panic attack.” The Goat-Dragon woman took a hold of Riley’s hands and watched as his body began to slow to a shivering halt. At the very least, progress was made on keeping him stable—but the only thing they could do now was wait and hope his stress didn’t kick up again.

Loki meanwhile was content with holding his words until something interesting was dug up from their captive, and frankly, he seemed to be rather entertained at the sight of an angry Colonel Haider. That wasn’t because he found her anger funny; it’s because it told him all he needed to know about who was in control. He’d observe both the questioner and questionee quite close.

“Come again?” Terios looked up lazily.

“Vangelion Falls. Your association with the Agents of Zen. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Alvira flared her hands and groaned while Terios rose a curious eyebrow at her question. He rolled his eyes, Impressed at how long she had gone without belittling his comprehension, but not being too impressed considering the steam that was practically shooting from her ears.

"Maybe I’ll start talking once you cut the crap and live a little. I mean, isn’t this great? Having all this power over someone you know nothing about?” The captive chuckled through his words. “Someone who, despite your uncertainty, is a real danger and just a walking adventure waiting to happen? I bet you’ll get paid real good for this gig, lady.” He lowered his gaze towards his hand and picked at his nails, only pushing her further into rage.

“What does any of that matter? Your direct involvement in the attack on Vangelion Falls makes you an unregistered terrorist through constitutional law, and according to the congressional house that oversees Gladiolus, you should have been thrown in a black site for putting more than 200 lives in danger with what you pulled, Mr. Hildryn. You’re lucky that Nimbus Rose caught you first.” Wow. This chick was serious—knew her stuff too. Maybe this was actually worth his attention.

“Big words can’t hide how much you want to put me in the dirt. And besides—shouldn’t you be asking me questions instead of trying to give me a lecture or somethin’?”

“I already did, dumbass!” Alvira’s fuse was lit and burning at the seams. “You’re the one stalling for whatever reason you think will benefit you when it would actually benefit you to just come clean and stop being an asshole!”

The Torjin’s interrogator had run completely out of patience, but by now was more than willing to meet him in the middle just to get him to shut up and make this go faster. It was clear that he wanted something from the colonel, at least to her, so it was better to just play by his rules than drag this out any longer than it already had been. A childish argument wasn’t worth the two days of headaches that led them here.

“You know what? Fine. Alright, Mr. Hildryn.” Alvira began.

“You lettin’ me go?” His eyes lit up only to lose their shine soon after.

“What? Hell no! Look, you tell me what you want and then maybe we can make this work, cause it’s clear that you want something.”

From his nails did Terios look back up at her once more. Alvira was almost red in the face from how upset he was making her, and by the silhouette that started rocking back and forth behind the window, so was someone who was watching this from behind the curtain. Seems the value of the entertainment he was getting from this had worn out it’s novelty, so, for once, Mr. Hildryn complied.

“What I want is for you to answer one question I have.” He’d ask Alvira.

“Anything, at this point.” She complied in turn, shaking her head at Terios dismissively.

“How good is the security in this place?” He smiled as he asked this. It didn’t last long, but it was still a smile.

…Odd. For someone so full of himself, Terios seemed quite concerned about Nimbus Rose’s securial development. This could be some kind of ploy, his interrogator thought, so Alvira answered it the only way she thought was appropriate for the situation.

“Good enough to keep you here without any interjections.”

“Is everything I tell you gonna be recorded and sent somewhere else?” He’d ask another security question.

Another weird one. What was this guy’s aim? Loki perked up from his laxed position and tilted his head in the direction of the two’s table. At the very least, Terios wasn’t stupid. But he sounded…afraid. Like, the kind of afraid that a school bully would hide behind baseless threats and fabricated confidence. That kind of afraid.

“That isn’t up to me, sir. It’s up to the people outside.” If nothing else, the colonel was honest.

“Okay. I’m willing to take my chances. I’ll start from the beginning—but don’t be surprised if this comes off a little…abridged.”

…

| Behind Enemy Lines. Two Weeks Ago.

| 11:40 PM.

| A Misted Flames Correctional Facility. Somewhere on Idro.

Luckily for you, I won’t have to go back too far to get you what you want. This happened at the beginning of last week, when me and a crew of mine were sent in by our employer for an extraction gig starting on the Black Sonar.

Who is this employer, Mr. Hildryn?

Doesn’t matter. Info like that won’t help you find out how I ended up in Vangelion Falls, so I’d rather not waste anymore time than I have to.

…Then start from the very beginning of this “gig”. Leave nothing out.

You’re the boss.

…

“You said these things were different from the anchors that go on ships! I’m just hearing the same thing in a different context!”

“Diag, you’re taking the term too litera—oh my fucking god—“

The story of Dante’s Inferno would often reference its setting by characterizing the nine circles of hell. If there had been a tenth circle, much further down than those that you could consider public knowledge, it would probably look something like the Misted Flames Break Room.

What would normally be utilized to give the valued agents of a dark and foreboding superpower like the Flames a breather, was instead being used so a quartet of insiders could run a history lesson through the head of their newest prospect. A woman named Nova, often the coordinator of this haphazard unit, had been relegated to the dreaded “It” category of the “Not It” genre, and so, it fell to her to pick up the scraps for everything their newbie Diag didn’t understand. That, and to also make sure that Terios wasn’t snoring in the middle of the most important phase of their operation.

“I’m going again, one more time. Do you hear me?” She’d question Diag with a sneer.

“At least take it slow!” They’d request in reply. That’s what she had been doing this whole time, actually.

Terios, meanwhile, was honestly closer to leaving than he was to falling asleep. He wanted to get past inspection, get sent to the field, get the World Anchor, and get paid the money he was promised. How poorly did the Spirits think of him that he would be paired up with someone who didn’t even know what they were after?

“We are here to retrieve and extract a World Anchor.” Nova’s explanation began once more. “World Anchors are people or items that exist to supply the world we live in with magic. They do this through expelling themselves of their magic at any given time, whether it be through fighting and casting spells or utilizing it idly in everyday life.” She’d continue on.

“There can only be four World Anchors in existence at the same time, and all of them house both unlimited pools of magic energy and the affinity to utilize two Elements completely naturally; Fire and Ice, Earth and Air, Water and Thunder, and Life and Death.”

The fourth of this haphazard team, Nova’s girlfriend, Amber, made an “OoOoOo!” Sound at the mention of Life and Death. Nova bopped her on the back of the head for being so childish on the job.

“In our case, we’ll be going after the World Anchor of Water and Thunder, which is an amulet that’s being contained in a vault within the estate of the much esteemed Vanusha family.” She’d finish explaining.

“They can be people, huh?” Diag began shortly after her. “How do guys like that live normal lives?” Nova didn’t answer his question, but a voice in her ear did.

“Good question.”

“AH! WHAT THE FUCK-“

Diag was the only one who shouted. That was their agent in the sky, Dogma, who had gotten themselves into the security system of the base, and was guiding them through their mission to nab a source of unlimited magic all for themselves.

“Calm down, Diag. It’s Dogma.”

Instead of saying hi verbally, Terios waved from where he was standing to the earpiece he could see in Amber’s right ear. Nobody on this particular ground team had ever seen Dogma’s face—to them, they were just a voice who got paid to put up with them, and considering their activity for their past year of activation, it seemed their team, Unit 24, was getting by just fine with them at their back.

“If you’ll allow me to pick up where you left off, Nova?“ The Sanguine shrugged in response to Dogma’s question. She didn’t mind having an excuse to cut her part in the conversation short. Gave her a chance to cuddle up next to Amber.

“Thank you. Now, Diag, you still with me?”

“I’d be much more with you if you didn’t scare me half to death.” The rookie replied, twisting a pinkie in his jumpscared ear. Dogma rolled their eyes so hard that you’d swear you could hear it through the earpiece.

“Whatever. Now look. The thing about World Anchors that everyone needs to remember is that no matter if it comes in the form of a thing or an individual, you are stepping on the toes of a metaphorical god.” Dogma’s tone fell to quite the surprising seriousness, even behind the voice modulator they were using.

“I’m not talking about latent power, either; I mean constantly active, always running reserves of magic energy that could be used to either take lives or save them. That is, unless you’re a goody-two-shoes like Pearl Ontari.” They could hear the question marks popping up around Diag’s head when Pearl’s name was dropped.

“Oh my fu—the World Anchor of Earth and Wind? Leader of the Winged Varsity Angels? Do you even go outside, Diag?”

Amber let out a little whine that Diag’s earpiece could faintly make out, doing so while she turned to the side and laid her head down on Nova’s lap.

“Heyyyy, be nice to them! It’s not like it’s public knowledge that the second strongest Anchor this cycle is of such high standing.”

“Cycle?” Diag leant back in their chair and turned to her.

“The title of World Anchor changes between the four chosen ones every five years.” Amber started. “It’s randomized between any kind of person or item, and as far as we know, there’s no criteria that makes you more eligible for the position than someone else.” She manages to keep herself occupied while talking by gently swinging her legs back and forth as she lay.

“As long as it’s nothing like an unconventional item—so something like…I don’t know, feathers are out of the question—it’ll count as being able to take up the mantle in a half-decades time. Besides, what fun is it if a World Anchor, person or thing, isn’t…you know! Bombastic!”

She raised her arms as she said this while Nova just rolled her eyes. Dogma chuckled at the thought of something as silly as feathers being considered an unconventional item, especially considering the weapon Amber’s girlfriend used had them quite instrumental as a material. But they had yapped at each other long enough by this point.

“Okay people, I’m sure you’ll have more than enough time after all this to give Diag another history lesson.” Dogma teased. “For now, I’m your eyes on the ground. Don’t do anything stupid and maybe we’ll all be worth paying when this is over. Terios.”

“I expect four figures or I’m rescinding my contraaact!” The Half-Torjin sang into his earpiece. “And besides, look at how we’ve been rolling. I'm sure it’ll be smooth sailing.”

“Ugh! You can shove the pen you signed that contract with up your ass if you don’t lock in, Dog-boy.” The duo shared a chuckle before Dogma gave them one last warning, clicking off their microphone soon after. “Don’t make me regret waking up at 8:00 AM for this.”

A knock came from the other side of the break room door, adjacent to the coffee table that Terios was leaning on. It faced scattered cups and chairs that were strewn across the carpet, all victim to a get-together from the night prior that Unit 24 didn’t go to. This came following a successful outing for a completely separate mission that the four of them would have attended just for the food. If Dogma went out of their way to inform them of it, that was.

Registering the knock was their signal to focus up. Nova shimmied out from underneath Amber and signed with her hands “Lock in.” Terios signed back “Pins on.”, and with that did the four of them click on a set of pins that brandished a dark silver flame with a jet black outline on their shirts. They had been holding on to them so they wouldn’t pass off as suspicious once on the field, but now they had to set in stone their faces and fake names for the Misted Flames’ identification process. Good thing they had Dogma in case things went south.

“Oi! Get ready, ID’s are in five. Name check.” A fellow foot soldier who had entered the break room thought it best to put the double agents on blast immediately.

“Dosis Ephemere.” Was Terios.

“Naofu Venturi.” Was Nova.

“Ben Handolin.” Was Diag.

“Aubrey Orlens.” And that was Amber. All four names were something they worked up on the spot just moments before stepping into the break room, and of their names was Diag the one judged most for their choice. Not for the name itself, but for the reasoning behind it.

“Ben…Handolin?” All it served to do on the inside was confuse Nova.

“Yeah! I mean, I Ben Handolin’ this pretty well so far, haven’t I?”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Terios audibly groaned.

…

Fake names, signed contracts, an active mission control? Just yesterday, you called me a “funded terrorist”, Mr. Hildryn—whatever that means—but there’s no way everything you had back there came free.

Doesn’t matter how we got it. We were using what we had to complete the mission that was given to us, and utilize it to fight back against the same posse of pricks as thing one back there.

Elaborate.

The Six-Star Coalition.

For the entire time that Terios was recounting his story, Riley had “upgraded” from rocking in their seat to pacing back and forth in front of the viewing window. Their spot on the couch in front of it was taken by Caleb, the youngest of Nimbus Rose, being only fifteen but having shown such promise, that not using his abilities for good would have felt like a mistake. Not only that, but he and Riley went way back in their connection. He watched as his leader and caretaker began to pick up the pace of their wandering only to stop and turn like they had heard a gunshot.

Terios was on their side by default. He was after the SSC too. So why was he on the other side of the glass and not on their side with them?

…What?

Let me finish, lady. It’ll all make sense soon.

…

Identification went off without a hitch. The team of agents were more than capable of thinning the line between revealing too much and saying too little, and when they got to what the Misted Flames considered basic training, they outdid every other unit of four around them in a number of tests and sparring sessions quite accordingly. From holding their own individually up close and at range, to taking on confined wildlife in unfavorable situations, to communicating as a team, in simulated conditions, meant to represent the most dire of circumstances, what felt like a lifetime of preparation under their employer before all this seemed to pay off here more than it ever had elsewhere.

Mission-wise, it had been long briefed to them before they even showed up at the Misted Flame’s front door, and hearing it relayed back like they didn’t already have their target scouted was priceless to Terios on their way there. Sneak into a compound that’s been reinforced and guarded by one of the wealthiest families on earth, steal their family necklace which harbors an unlimited pool of Water and Thunder Magic, and split on the Misted Flames before they even know they left the building.

For generations had the name “Vanusha” been passed around with all kinds of praise, going from avenue to avenue in jurisdiction and ability, with some calling them the most well-rounded family tree on this side of the galaxy. Any trade or art that the average person could take up was something that a Vanusha had done before they were even born, and even with the inevitable extension this had into the art of combat and discipline of Battlemages, it wasn’t enough to deter the only four people that their employer would trust with such a mission from going in hard. Shadow Intelligence’s Unit 24 weren’t afraid. If anything, they were curious.

…

I’m sorry, Mr. Hildryn, run that by me again?

What’s there not to understand, Colonel?

You went undercover with one of the most dangerous, mysterious, and unfettered organizations in the galaxy, and instead of trying to take them down from the inside, you went after some trinket?

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That “trinket” was a World Anchor. I wouldn’t downplay a necklace with unlimited magic energy to being treated like some everyday item.

Still! Why throw away an opportunity like this?

Because it wasn’t our mission. For people like you, this could have been killing two birds with one stone. This could revolutionize the very lives we live on a galactic scale, right? Well, that wasn’t in the description of the job we were taking. I wasn’t being paid to cut down the Misted Flames. I was being paid to steal an amulet, and on top of the training me and my crew already got beforehand, we got another week and a half of it as well from the dumbasses who believed our fake names. Not to mention the fact that if it all went accordingly, the Flames would take the fall for the crime; not us.

…So I’m going to assume you did it?

Damn right we did.

How?

Hehehe!

…

| Two Days Before The Events Of Stratosphere.

| 3:21 PM.

| The Vanusha Family Estate. A Quarter-Mile North Of Vangelion Falls, Connecticut.

…

“Talk to me Ben, what do you see?” Terios asked Diag from the network they patched into.

“Ahhh…It’s hard to tell, sir. We’ve got heavy fog coverin’ the estate!” He responded.

“I can see the fog Handolin, are you counting any hostiles?”

“I-I see two guards at the front door; and I believe three through the window on the third floor!”

“We need to know what type of guards,” Terios called back. “Can you see any weapons?”

“Yes sir! Three axes. All Defenders.”

The airspace surrounding the Vanusha Family Estate had a single helo flying above it at sixty feet from the ground. Terios’s crew were aboard a spy plane fitted with masking technology to both get boots on the ground and to keep them out of sight, but just in case the police were called or the opposition inside was less than favorable, that was what the helo sent to cover their backs was for. It was just the four of them against what was essentially a private army, but considering the fact that they themselves were a team of private assassins with air support from guys who didn’t even know their real names, what could they be running into that they didn’t know how to deal with already?

Dogma was patched into their own separate network using every precaution under the sun to prevent themselves from being found out. What the Misted Flames lacked in contingency, they made up for in cross-checking, so one wrong move could dictate how quickly this falls apart if an unidentified voice is heard over their comms.

“Is everyone good?” They’d shout to their team, getting seven short clicks and five long clicks in response. It was high time to get their money’s worth, and despite a clearly rattled Diag having to rub their hands together to ward off their growing nerves, they were still ready. Everyone was.

“Smile for the cameras and come home safe. Tango Mike.”

Gaining entry to one of the most well-guarded mansions on the planet was easy for these guys. Just kick down a few doors and break a few windows once successfully bypassing the tripwires and motion sensors. Unit 24 split off into twos when everyone got past the outer perimeter, allowing them to follow up on an already established plan which would see Diag and Terios go in from the fifth floor of the estate and make their way down. This left Nova and Amber with—not recommended, but unable to be convinced otherwise—going through the front door and raising so much hell that no one in the building would even know the first two were there. At least, after the guards that were undoubtedly up on the fifth floor were taken out.

The general consensus of this operation was for everyone to cut through the building's frontline and regroup on the third floor. There, the World Anchor was supposedly being held, vaulted away behind a six-digit passcode made up of three numbers and three letters that they’d have to find scattered around the building. Though everyone knew it was on the third floor—two above the girls and two below the boy and the newbie—this was less about them rushing to get there and more about fighting their way through so they wouldn’t end up in body bags. Luckily enough, it was what they did best.

As capable of agents as they were headaches on legs, Terios’s teammates had an affable synergy that came with working together for two years straight. Not only that, but knowing each other well enough to where they understood what parts to play was nothing short of an expectancy; much more than other units besides them, at least. The girlfriends of the quartet were both Vanguardians, a Bullseye and a Demolitionist, with Nova taking up the bow of the former and Amber, quite fittingly, finding solace in the explosives and thermite of the latter. They worked in tandem with arrows tipped by sticky bombs and grenades laced with poison smoke, all made for crowd control on a much more compact scale so that they could really explore what was possible with a bow and a grenade launcher.

Diag, trucking along a few meters behind Terios so that they wouldn’t get in the way of his melee ranged attacks, was much more conventional in their approach than the accessorized bombs of Nova and Amber. Considering their position as the rookie of the group and having only been active with their employer for a month, it was rather jarring to the other three that in all this time which they assumed Diag spent training, all they fought with was a slightly beat-up knapsack of battle rifles. Specifically, a Sig 716i and CZ Bren 2 with fully and semi-automatic capabilities both. They ducked behind cover, stayed away from being flashy or taking potshots, and conserved their ammo by only taking up to four shots to put down a target, while slowly moving downstairs alongside a significantly more showy and blood-covered Terios.

They did a once over of the fourth floor, cleared it of any opposition, and spent a good deal of time digging for numbers and letters of any kind when the coast was clear. Soon, more thanks to Diag’s efforts in actually looking and tracing their steps, the duo came to note a trio of what seemed to be coordinates, for whatever purpose. X: 52, Y: 61, and Z: 2.68. This wouldn’t lead anywhere as Dogma ran it through a scanner and didn’t get a location, so it was best to consider this not normal and work from there. Now the ball was in Terios’s court, and when the information found was relayed to him through their hidden network by their fifth pair of eyes, he’d soon come across a keypad on the third floor that he improvised with the numbers given and guessed they were a code. Diag was ordered to regroup with the girls so all three of them could stand together with more firepower if necessary. Now their leader was on his own. Good thing Terios hit the jackpot with his guess.

A wall that was adjacent to the keypad spun around and shunted outward to reveal a vault, but as soon as Terios registered that he could see it, an alarm went off that wailed through the whole building. Without being a registered member of the estate, opening the vault set the system off immediately, and it was so loud and so volatile that it sent Diag into a panicked frenzy. Amber pulled them behind an open door once they regrouped and scrambled to set a pair of headphones on their head, multitasking through it with a toss of a sticky bomb off to Nova, who loaded it onto a chakram from her hip and sent it spiraling down a hallway piled with guards. What followed was a blazing trail, covering the hall in smoke, shrapnel, and the Sanguine’s very own Anima Cast.

“DUST UPHEAVAL!”

A BOOM! crashed right into the end of the hallway that was loud enough to rival the average snoring father. It took out nine of what was considered the reinforcements for a defense effort that was going tits up, and because of that was Terios given such a clear opening that he was almost proud of the idiots on the floors below him. Almost. They were still just tolerable at best.

He gripped his hands onto the hatch of the vault and twisted it down to pull the door open, and once he stepped out from behind it to marvel at what he thought would be an opening of shelves and trinkets, would he come to find a museum hidden within its confines instead. That’s no hyperbole either. It was built into the walls of the estate and was so big that it could have—no, should have been an entire separate building in of itself.

There were artifacts and memorabilia of all kinds lining the walls, with each and every one being a staple in Vanusha family history. It was a single long hallway that encompassed everything in the room while having enough space for the vault door, and a large room on the other end that connected outwards into the rest of the museum. That other room must’ve been where the Amulet was—But the Half-Torjin’s worries would soon be on anything but his target.

A beam of blood flew from the other end of the museum, directly at his right eye. He ducked, zipped to the side, and would have lost his eye had he not moved at the last possible second. It still hurt like hell though, considering he was just a millisecond too late to avoid the thing clipping him completely. At least he could take this as a test he’d do under better circumstances; fighting half-blind in a life or death situation.

…

Oh, that’s how you got that scar?

It was blood, mind you. When it hit me, it felt like a .50 Cal grazed the front of my skull. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if I wasn’t as lucky as I was that day.

Huh. For once, you show humility.

Don’t get used to it. I was doing this to arm the guys writing my checks with enough firepower to wipe the SSC off the map. It was bigger than me. I can afford to be humble now, but in the moment…Nah. I just wanted it to be worth my time.

…

Beams of blood continued to fire at Terios’s head, and he kept up with a newfound tactic of dashing behind statues to nullify the shots and push in little by little. If any word other than mismatch could have been used to describe what Terios felt this turned out to be, then he would have used it if he wasn’t focused on not dying. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to coordinate ducking shots and staying on his feet—taking note of how rampantly his eyes were darting to anything he could use as cover—until he reached a wall, ran across its surface, and came down with a lunging stab towards this adversary of his.

His strike was deflected by his magic-toting opponent, who doubled back and went in with a left hook to the side of his face. Terios planned on rebounding from the punch with an upward slash of his dagger, but didn’t get the chance to as another fist went slamming into his jaw from underneath, and then a third to the nose directly after that. Right, left, right. So maybe this person would go for a left again.

The Saboteur needed to find an opening that’d let him counterattack and disengage. Thankfully learning to put his pride aside for the sake of the mission, he quickly realized that getting in touch with the rest of his team would be the only way he’d walk out of this museum alive. As soon as he found the chance through blocking an axe-fist with his dagger from above, he delivered a shoulder bash to his enemy and jumped back with an instinctual tap to his right ear. That’s when he realized that his earpiece wasn’t there anymore. The first beam he dodged must’ve clipped his ear and taken it out. Great.

Despite the lack of communication, he was still able to make space. Terios’s shoulder bash gave him the second he needed to assess his opponent at face value, and what a face he saw. This guy was a kid, dressing so dapper he looked like he had four weddings to fly to in a week. If Terios were to guess, he’d assume he wasn’t even halfway to seventeen. Hell, the guy was probably sixteen at the oldest, but was fighting like he’s been doing this his entire life.

He wasn’t here to kill a child, but he assumed that this child was gonna kill him if he didn’t push back. Guess he didn’t have a choice. They clashed once again with a renewed fervor after disengaging to take stock of one another, soon pulling in with slices and slugs that had them clashing every other hit, and building towards a rebound for those they saw coming.

Within their engagement did Terios find that he could open his right eye again, seeing out of it for the first time in at least four minutes and glancing at a name tag that read “Gabriel” on the kid’s suit. That…put a good deal of this into perspective. Did the Vanusha family hire a child as what Terios assumed to be a butler, who just so happened to be so proficient with Blood Magic, that he outshined some folks the Torjin had been working with for years?

Nothing could have prepared him for a Shaman/Striker Subclass Discipline, but he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. His eye succumbed to a constant sting of pain yet again, forcing him to close it and fight from underneath half-blind. All he needed was to do what he did earlier, and buy some time until his team caught wind of his absence. Luckily enough, Dogma was ten steps ahead of him, and informed them through ear-piercing shouts of worry that they completely lost contact with Terios. What was going on in that vault?

The Shaman ducked back from an oncoming thrust and weaved out of view to force Terios into guessing where he went, taking note of how sporadic his instincts had become while working with one eye and thinking on his feet. He couldn’t center his focus on something he couldn't see, and scrambled to close a widening gap that only served to bait him in, a right fist aimed right at his chest knocking the wind out of his body. Originally, Terios’s plan was to keep the young Battlemage at a length close enough to manipulate the fight in his favor—hit him at a range that would deal substantial damage, but not keep him so close that he’d get hit himself.

Gabriel’s speed in regards to his own was the one thing he didn’t account for, and this came to a head when the punch that found its mark on his chest was followed by another empowered by the kid's magic. Luckily enough, it came from a perspective that Terios could actually see, and he rose his forearm to block the oncoming shot to his throat while keeping his hand free to stab into his opponent's left shoulder. He tore the blade down in a diagonal motion so he could puncture the skin and tear it back out, then flipped the blade upright and thrusted ahead for a gutting stab to the stomach.

That thrust was countered by a well-placed kick sending the blade into the sky, having hit Terios’s wrist and causing a bone to crack audibly enough for Gabriel to know that he could keep applying pressure. He brought the foot that he kicked the blade with down on Terios’s head, then spun around for a tornado kick to the knee and kept it up off of a backhand strike to the jaw. He strung it together with a fist to the nose, a heavy hook with his right to the Saboteur’s face, then an encore of two more punches just in time for the dagger to fall and for Terios to catch it.

He caught the blade and lunged forward at the same time, flipping it around so he could drive the dagger into Gabe’s neck. Not only did that connect, but so did a well-timed headbutt not even a second afterward, stunning the Shaman long enough for Terios to tear the weapon vertically down his torso and rip it out, just like earlier. Now he was on a roll. Now Terios was feeling this. The Torjin kept the end of his weapon aimed at Gabriel, and seemed so intent on a killshot that he didn’t see a fist, hardened with blood and coated like armor, fly straight into his jaw from the left until it connected.

Like the mercenary just seconds before, this was Gabriel’s own ace in the hole. Armor that he infused with his own blood and magic energy, being used to both increase the impact of any punches he threw and defend his hands from any unwarranted injury in their application. That left haymaker was so powerful that it shot the assassin off his feet, and opened up his midsection for a slamming overhead that he only had a moment to counter. But by book or by crook, he figured it out.

Gabriel coated his entire right arm in hardened blood, fighting through his injured shoulder and using his bicep to slam it down right on Terios’s chest. The spy thought on his feet and crossed his arms to block the impact, wrapping his legs around Gabriel’s arm once it connected and pulling himself up to drive his dagger into the crease above the Shaman’s elbow. His weapon lit up green.

He kept his legs wrapped on his bicep and squeezed even harder to force the boy to tense his arm, allowing him to keep his balance and puncture his shoulder with another stab that lit the dagger up yellow. Not only was it a little distracting that hitting his opponent turned his chosen weapon into a traffic light, but it hurt like hell. Almost as bad as having it torn out of him. These were puncturing, stabbing attacks, so lasting damage was all but guaranteed if he didn’t act fast. Gabriel threw a punch in an attempt to break Terios off after his own attack, but it came out much slower and more sporadically than he could reasonably achieve with having taken this much damage. The Torjin caught the fist with his left hand and pulled it over to give him room with his right for a third stab, once again to the neck. His dagger gleamed a scarlet red.

The colors of his dagger lined up with a number of debilitating attacks, lessening the output of someone’s exertion to a crawl. First, it was magic energy. That was what green did, and on contact did it cut down the flat effect of anyone‘s magic by 20%. Next was yellow, which decreased a person’s physical attack power by 20% as well. The same went for physical defense, which, just like its predecessors, went down by 20% once the dagger turned red and was driven into an opponent’s body. All three together would be decreased up to 40% if Terios were to hit someone again once his weapon turned black, and that was aimed directly at the soul.

He unwrapped his legs from around Gabriel’s arm and landed with a spin that gave him time to ready his weapon, lunging ahead with it careening for the butler’s right eye as a receipt for what he did to him just minutes earlier.

“COLORED CLEAVE: BLACK!”

…

“Gabriel, focus! You’re thinking too wide! Stay on a straight line. Next time you overthink, you could end up dead.”

“…”

“Huff. Look, kiddo. You don’t gotta be flashy or overwork yourself for the best result. Just fight. Staying alive is enough of a reward.”

“.Huff…Huff…How do I know when the time's right? To act after I’m focused?”

“It’s nothing that you can tell. It’s something you have to feel in the moment. One day, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“…Okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah. I just—I find it hard to trust myself.”

“Then don’t put too much thought into it—especially when you’re out of the moment like this. Everyone has a little voice in their head that exists to manage their survival instincts. When you can trust that, then you can trust yourself. That sound good?”

“It…yeah. Thanks, dad.”

…

“BLOOD DIFFUSION: SPIKE!”

One second. By one second and by nothing more than his will to continue living, was how much faster Gabriel was than Terios in this exact moment. He was barely, on the brink of death, just fast enough to throw his fist out with it shrouded in blood, and sent a spike of blood between his fingers right through the front of Terios’s neck. Then the spike exploded, right on the wound, and would have choked Terios to death had Gabriel not been hired with a strict no killing policy. He purposefully made the attack weaker, but regardless, he won. He won, and passed out right there in front of his downed opponent.

…

My goodness. You’re lucky to even be alive, Mr. Hildryn.

I know. I probably shouldn’t be, but I guess the Spirits were on my side.

You said your enemy's name was Gabriel, correct?

Yeah.

By chance, did you happen upon a surname?

No.

Riley and Caleb grimaced at his words.

After the fight, my team found me and patched me up, before finding the amulet deeper in the vault. There was too much heat for us to walk out the way we came in, and when the police showed up, they guessed it was a heist attempt. They were after the amulet, and I wasn’t gonna put my crew in jeopardy by handing it off, so I took it and stayed behind for the sake of my team once I woke up.

Wow.

Not like me, right? I fought through every single cop in that building until they stopped coming in droves. Got my team out of there with an emergency casevac and I went into hiding for two days. Then, the Agents of Zen rolled through Vangelion Falls and found me. I had to put my A-Lister on and masquerade as a late hire to get away from any suspicion.

And that’s how you were there to fight that girl you mentioned. You could have killed her.

You’re giving me too much credit. I was nursing wounds top to bottom, surrounded by enemies that I had to keep up appearances around, and had no way to get home or get in contact with my team. You want the honest truth, lady?

Nothing more.

I was fully expecting to die four days ago. The only reason I didn’t is because I got lucky, again, with all that offense I belted out. I wasn’t gonna kill her and put myself in any more hot water than I already did. Not only that, but she was strong. Unusually strong, for apparently being just a student.

So you had no intention of beating this girl?

Not in the slightest. I just kept pushing cause I got lost in the thrill of the fight.

Dreida and Remnaya had come to spectate the end of the interrogation, now stood beside Riley and Caleb while Loki remained seated. None of them knew what was next now that Terios had finally come clean. When they brought him in for questioning, they patted him down and he didn’t have the amulet on him—so wherever it was, Vangelion Falls was due for an inspection, and now that everything was finally starting to make sense, the only obstacle left was to figure out what to do with the man himself.

“Well…I can’t let you go yet. There’s one more question I have for you.” Alvira revealed. The Saboteur rolled his eyes. He had been cordial enough already. Giving anything more would be exhausting. But, he wasn’t walking away otherwise, so he bit the bullet.

“What exactly did your employer need an item so powerful for?” She asked. “Why not just send a search party for something like an Astral Weapon?”

Astral Weapons. Terios laughed; at least Alvira knew how to make jokes in the face of something so obvious and trivial. He responded with a deeper, more bored tone of voice.

“That’s a question that answers itself. Why spend months hunting down a weapon that once belonged to a god-killing hero instead of sending in four of your best for two days to get something significantly more controllable?”

Alvira scoffed in his face. “Doesn’t sound too easy considering you were almost killed by a child.”

“I held back for that exact reason.” Terios responded.

The colonel and mercenary both shared a sigh, signifying it was well past time to put this interrogation to bed and plan for the future. Alvira, though, still had ground rules to lay down. Terios in all aspects of the word was a criminal regardless of his intentions or discipline. But he didn’t kill anyone. At least, he didn’t say he did. It was all Alvira could go off of.

“Breaking and Entering, Armed and Assisted Robbery…You’ve got a heaping helping of crimes against your name, Mr. Hildryn, and that’s just two.” She spoke. “This could land you well near twenty years in prison.”

Terios shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t care. Mainly because he didn’t. “I’m not the person you should be crunching numbers with. That’s for the people who hired me.”

“Who hired you, then? You haven’t given me a name this whole time.” Same question as the beginning of this interview, but much more forceful and demanding.

“The Students of Doctrine. More specifically, under the banner of Shadow Intelligence.” Terios told her.

Oh. Great. This random guy, who was inserting himself into what could very well be a society-shifting conflict, just so happened to be employed by the most influential faction in the galaxy. That meant more paperwork that Nimbus Rose simply didn’t have the people or the resources to fire back against, so Alvira turned and gave a silent nod to Riley to indicate that she’d be the one taking the fall for them. But Terios still didn’t answer her question.

“Thank you, I suppose.” Alvira was clearly a little rattled. “But what could the Students want that amulet for?”

Terios went right back to picking his nails before answering her. “We were sent to get that amulet so we could power a potential counterattack against the SSC.”

“Why?”

“They’re planning to enact a mass takeover of the Rings of Saturn in two months' time, and the power of Water and Thunder is exactly what we need for an elemental EMP.” He responded, his gaze shifting back up to meet Alvira’s. “It’ll shut ‘em down before they even get on-planet, and then we strike while the iron’s hot.”

Now it all made sense, albeit in a fashion that could only work for someone as lax as the interrogated Torjin. Riley was struck with fear upon hearing what the SSC had planned, as it lined up with some information he had gotten from the informant his people snatched yesterday. It was never going to be as simple as being just them involved.

“The Coalition aren’t alone.” Riley spoke through the glass. “The Era of Siliphys are working with them. Another prisoner of ours said so, and gave a few receipts to legitimize its probability.”

“That so?” Finally. Things were getting interesting enough for Terios to actually give a damn.

“Then here’s the deal I’ll lay out.” He began. “Clearly, none of you have what it takes to win a legal battle against the space Einstein’s of the world, so maybe we can help each other out. I don’t know where my crew is right now. Hell, I don’t even know if they made it back to HQ. You get me back with them, and I’ll stand by oath to get the SoD inevitably off your back. Then, we can focus on what’s really important. Stopping the Era of Siliphys, the Six-Star Coalition, and saving Saturn.”

For a while, nobody said anything. Working with Terios wasn’t exactly on anyone’s bucket list, but they were stuck between a rock and a hard place if this went from an interrogation to a courtroom. They needed names if this was going to work, and now that their interests were aligned, the man who inserted himself into a conflict of overwhelming intensity was willing to compromise.

“Dogma, my mission control? I don’t have his face, or his name. But I know a lead that could get this over with for the both of us much quicker if you’d like, starting with them.”

Riley opened the door to the interrogation room with a huff. Caleb followed suit, and though they both agreed that this was a load of shit, they didn’t have much other choice, did they? Terios was their ace in the hole to put a stop to whatever the SSC and EOS both had planned. So, they conceded. But they clearly weren’t happy about it.

“Fine.” Riley spoke. “You have a deal. We’ll get you back to your team.”

…

| Hierophant’s Accord University. Taunton, Massachusetts.

| 6:29 PM.

| Outside The Dormitories.

A quiet hum left Bannri’s lips while she spun the Vanusha amulet around her hand. She was walking without a care in the world and had a mind to hide this thing in case it turned out to be important, as she had picked it off of Terios when she beat him in Connecticut. Honestly, she thought about selling the thing as it was no doubt better out of his hands, but it was getting late, and she wasn’t up for walking all the way into the city to find a pawn shop at such an hour. Till’ then, she would just hang the thing up somewhere and hope nobody else was as intrigued by it as she was, catching it in her palm and choosing to drape it around her neck for no real reason.

“Yo!” A familiar voice would call out from behind her. Bannri guessed that it was Opal, and right as she was, she turned on her heel to see her classmate dragging her brother along towards her direction.

“Shouldn’t you two be on an airship by now?” She asked.

“We missed it on purpose.” Opal revealed with a spring in her step.

“She missed it on purpose. I’ve been dragged along, as is tradition.” Keil corrected his sister. Their Half-Bull friend laughed at the antics of the two, but was curious past the hilarity of it all.

“And why is that?”

A grin lit up on Opal’s face. Keil couldn’t help but roll his eyes, finding her eagerness to tell Bannri the news sorta cute.

“Skyfall Academy’s Headmaster wants to meet you! You, and someone else that we choose to bring along. We put in a recommendation letter for a hunting trip that they’ve recently approved, and if you choose to come with, all we’ll need is one more person!” The girl could barely contain herself, all the while Keil and Bannri just smiled at her. She was so, so happy to bring her along with them if she accepted. And you know what? Bannri did.

That mission in Vangelion Falls earned her a 30% increase in her overall grade, and her own Headmaster had actually given her the next week off as a reward for her efforts. She had all the time in the world, and cemented her choice by walking forward to ruffle Opal’s hair, and walk down the path that they had come from to their dorm rooms. She’d take the night to get ready, take tomorrow to find a fourth, and then they’d be off to the races. She was hoping she could make a good first impression.