STRATOSPHERE

ANGEL: ONE MILLION

…

One hundred years ago, history was written by a force outside of human understanding. Three deities watched over humanity from its birth to its many ends, and though they had sought to fight for its salvation, the tranquility of these deities rang truer than their actions ever could.

The Silent Zen, they were once called. Ruling over all creation with both a gentle hand and an iron fist, they watched over humanity's peaks and lowest lows all the same in a hush of neutrality. But their rule was a lie. Their benevolent silence was nothing but a front for what a man named Vietro Garmedia described as the closest they had ever come to perfection. 

These gods amongst men were put down by their subjects, all in the name of regaining the free will that they didn’t even realize had been passed on to their overseers. But that was a hundred years ago, when Vietro and his allies slew these false prophets. They were heralded as the Six Heroes of Winged Varsity, and their deeds in the name of human perseverance stood to bring about a new age for all humanity. But they couldn’t do it in the time they had.

Maybe, one hundred years later, following the deaths of the Silent Zen, there would be those who could follow in Vietro’s footsteps and realize their dream for all creation. Those who would carry on their celebration of humanity.

A new generation of Angels, helmed by the only person capable of leading them to the future.

…

| 4 Hours Before Briefing.

| 9:26 AM.

| A Winged Varsity Angels Recreation Center. Phantomhive, Rhode Island.

Seconds became minutes. Minutes became seconds. Time was ebbing and flowing in a way that was completely indiscernible, and for a woman like Pearl, the level that understood her wouldn’t be getting any closer from the ground. She couldn’t bear the thoughts that intruded her mind. A constant whirring of pain and confusion that staked its claim from the deepest reaches of her memories. It was like a ringing in her ears that was nigh inexplicable, and no matter how much she tried to mentally pull the plug on such a feeling, all that struggle did was make her feel more awful.

Pearl had come to this rec center in Rhode Island because her butler, Corallo, was stationed there for caregiving. The Winged Varsity built this place for the sake of getting those who needed it away from the hustle and bustle of their headquarters in Las Vegas, but here, when the Acting Captain of the WVA needed it to drown out her own thoughts, it was practically impossible. She couldn’t focus on anything.

Every singer and dancer on that stage were doing nothing but what they were told to do, and despite them having been brought out to entertain, all they did in the moment was constrain Pearl’s thoughts further. The lights, sounds, activity and volume were giving her a headache, and she couldn’t find a source for the plight she felt at all.

Magic, she thought. Maybe magic could help her understand this aching feeling if she just turned on Clouds and sifted through the energy of the room. So she did—but it came up hopeless. No matter where she looked, it was all just noise. Baseless, empty noise, made up by a looming shadow. This shadow carried enough of a presence to force her back into reality, and have her acknowledge that it was carrying a saucer of tea within its otherwise cold visage. And it had four arms. And a suit. That was her butler. 

Corallo had a habit of showing up when Pearl was at her worst, and for a time like this—especially on a time limit—she felt it a blessing to be given the chance to actually talk to someone who understood her.

“Are you spacing out or is it something more serious, my lady?” He’d ask her with a tilt of his head.

“…Nothing for you to worry about, Rallo. Thank you.” Pearl responded in kind. A part of her was being honest, and another part of her was just making sure he wouldn't worry.

The Torjin found a seat beside his employer while distributing Chamomile to himself and his acquired party. For some reason, he had chosen to bring along four cups when there were just the two of them, and when asked about it, he stated it was a “Four-Arm joke”. Whatever that meant.

Pearl didn’t mind her lack of understanding when it came to whatever this guy classified as “comedy”. His presence helped make everything around her easier to process, and from that constant, suffocating trill of unknowing came a familiar feeling that helped bring her back up for air. She could only hope that the peace he gave her wasn’t something she’d have to seek out as a memory—more specifically, a memory that’d hurt to recount if this went up in smoke. She was just worried about today’s mission, she guessed. Seeing Rallo’s face and hearing his voice made it easier to bear.

“Hey, could you run today’s agenda by me again? I-I’m sorry, it’s been a long couple of minutes.” Pearl ran her hands over her face as she asked this of Corallo, leaning forward where she sat and soon clasping her hands together as well.

“As you wish, my lady.” Her Fox Torjin assistant didn’t deny the idea for a second, tracing back what he remembered of today’s mission in a way that he could recall to his eminence.

The Winged Varsity Angels had their assistance availed by a Battlemage academy, one needing extra hands for an operation in the sky. Where was it specifically? A populated fishing village in New London, Connecticut, which had built its foundation off of sky fishing and trade.

“While the logistics of our intrusion are still to be discovered, the enemy we stand to face are an invading platoon bearing the flag of the Agents of Zen.” Corallo spoke. “They are advancing onto an island known as Vangelion Falls in an attempt to supply themselves with lumber and fish, all by way of brandishing steel against innocent people.”

The AOZ, at least to Pearl, were nothing short of a cult. They followed and worshiped the practices of the Silent Zen, and used the basis of a “self-given mission” as an excuse to hurt people in the name of invoking their long dead ideals of control. It wasn’t like the Silent Zen were actually trying to help people when they ruled over humanity back then. An aim like that would subjugate innocent folk to a knowing lack of free will, no matter how “neutral” the SZN had made themselves out to be or how little the common person knew of and still don’t know about them to this day. 

That is what the Winged Varsity Angels exist to do—keep the world and everything within it safe from dead ideas from dead gods. To help people. It’s what Belleck, the man who led them before Pearl, entrusted her with before she took up the mantle herself, and the fact that a group like the Agents of Zen even exists? It made her sick , and what’s worse was that they were doing it on an island that she predicted would be at least two hundred or so feet in the air.

She had an admittedly embarrassing fear of heights that, while being less extreme now than it may have been some years ago, still made this sound more intimidating than it’d actually end up being. Alas, they wouldn’t be going it alone. Not without backup courtesy of the University that called them. Specifically, Hierophant’s Accord University. A long time friend of Pearl’s attended there, and if she got lucky, maybe she’d see her on this mission they were taking.

It was a simple “get in, show off a little, teach a lesson, get out” job. And they’d be getting paid. Corallo, along with the woman he was sitting beside, stared blankly into the visage of the dancers and singers that made up their Rec Center’s Club Room. He noticed how lost she got in the sight—assuming it was the sense of freedom that took up the room they were in in spades or the looming sense of opportunity that would come from beating up some evil bastards in a few hours time.

Pearl had a track record of working herself to the point where she never really knew how to relax, so if it wasn’t anything involving the mission making her overthink, then a place like this which made its foundation off of that intoxicating feeling must have overwhelmed her with something she wasn’t so familiar with anymore. It was clear that this was a festering emotion too ; one that her butler knew all too well. 

“My lady?”

“...”

“…Pearl?”

He was starting to get worried, so he did the one thing his instincts called for in the moment—leaning towards his right and blowing directly into her ear.

“EEK!” 

The tingling shock made Pearl jump and hit him in the shoulder with a small chuckle. At least she was back down to earth now.

“There you are, ma’am.”

“Gosh, Rallo. Hahaha!”

…

| 20 Minutes Before Briefing. 

| 12:40 PM.

| An HAU Combat Facility. Somewhere In Taunton, Massachusetts.

What was supposed to come out as a whiff to the side hit Bannri’s opponent like a truck. She waited, calculated, and dropped her guy with a lunge of her sword’s hilt aimed straight at his ribs. Now it was down to waiting out the clock.

She refused to use her magic in a situation where she wasn’t gonna have to. Instead of seeing visions, all she did was predict—one prediction showing her opponent ducking down and rolling to get in close, and the other seeing him feel her out by circling back and baiting her for a charge. This guy seemed more than capable of trying to put both options together, so Bannri continued to do what she did best and waited for him to rush her down after feigning an attempt at sticking back. And what do you know; she guessed his play right, and it could be seen through a glint in her eyes that she knew how well her estimate came out.

Her sword rose up as her head came down, blocking the steel of his gauntlet and opening him up for a spinning disarm. The hilt of Bannri’s blade went around his wrist and tugged it down over her right shoulder, having given her enough leverage to flip him onto his back and slam him right into the training mat that lay underneath. Bannri won through intuition alone, and removed the wrappings that sat comfortably on her torso while sheathing the blade and running her hands through her hair. Spectators looked on from the circle they formed around the duo.

“Anyone else want to end up like Thing One here?” Bannri offered to them. Nobody raised a hand. Instead, someone stepped forward while Bannri giggled to herself at the lack of competition.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this social, girl. What happened to the Bannri I know?”

“She’s…running on coffee right now, Opal.” Bannri replied. “It’ll only be a matter of time before she’s back to sulkin’ in corners.”

The Inquisitor shared a hug with her fellow student who patted her on the back in congratulation, tail flicking behind herself before Opal shot her gaze over to their approaching professor.

“Mr. Jourdain!”

“Bannri, Opal. Are you two ready?” He’d ask.

“B clearly is. I’ll be when my brother stops groveling on the floor.” Opal replied.

Keil, the groveling brother in question, got to his feet once the Professor came by. His sister took more than a bit of amusement in having to keep him steady while he shook off the cobwebs from his loss to Bannri.

“Well, you two are supposed to be returning to Skyfall in two days' time. I’d much rather you keep yourselves on the side of the living before your Academy has something to say about it, yes?” Jourdain asked of the two with a nod.

The Bull Torjin siblings cracked a smile in response. All three of them were ready, but a certain someone who was perched on a railing above their training wing was, for lack of a better term, opposed to the fact that these three were allowed to make the trip in their place.

“Not too much to show for it, dont’cha think?” He’d snark. Opal audibly groaned as soon as his voice rang out.

Yet another Inquisitor showed his face, this one ferrying himself around with the art of Katana and Tonfa both to impress and intimidate. Bannri had been through this same song and dance before with this guy, a Cat Torjin named Molas Vanusha. She considered herself lucky that he wasn’t joining them in Connecticut.

“You jealous, Molas?” Opal sneered in return to his earlier comment.

“Barely. Just disappointed that the high houses of our esteemed estate are trusting a mission so delicate with such rabble. And you two! You don’t even go here. What place do you have to even take this mission?”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oi, ya’ wanna say that to my face , catboy?” He pulled the horns of the bull and was about to get them.

Opal was gunning to jump at Bannri’s defense only to have her advance halted by her friend’s raised hand. For as long as her confidence had refused to falter, she’d stand on her own two feet for the sake of her friends. This wasn’t worth it. Molas wasn’t worth it. They were better off just leaving him to wallow and actually getting something done in his stead. And get it done they would. Hopefully.

| Mission Site Alpha.

| 1:19 PM.

| The Skies Above Vangelion Falls. New London, Connecticut.

…

Lesson One: Never let your guard down around an enemy.

Opal’s personality—at least to those who hailed from outside her quarter—was easy to discern from how excited she got while fighting. What most of her peers had touted as nothing special was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the girl, this mission giving her the long awaited chance to finally let loose with her brother in her stead. That was something that she hadn’t gotten the chance to do yet at Skyfall Academy, which only gave way for her strength to fester and build to the point that, for only a moment, made her the physically strongest person in attendance on this field trip of theirs. What they were dealing with was an invading force that acted as an unnamed subsidiary to the Agents of Zen—basic stuff, really, that they were called in by the locals of Vangelion Falls to defend against so that innocent civilians don’t get put on the backfoot of their own home. 

These guys not putting up enough of a fight to impress their enemies pushed Opal into a false sense of security that, initially starting as her not taking them seriously, ended with the Bull Torjin full-on dropping her guard more pegs than she should have out of a want to egg on the enemy into actually giving it their all. That respite exposed her to a number of faulty choices that exhumed from her want of fun in the middle of a conflict, and like usual, Keil had to bail her out of it before she’d end up making a mistake that she couldn’t take back. 

Opal took note of how pushy her approach was and the negative effects it had on her brother’s performance. What she needed to do was slow down, put her guard back up, and learn to start treating this as life or death instead of a game—that soon forged seriousness shining through in such a way that enemies were running from her before she even touched them. Not that it helped though, lest they forsake the inevitable consequence of a fist to their skulls.

…

Lesson Two: Communicate and Strategize.

The leader of the single strongest force of good on all of Planet Earth didn’t wake up today thinking she’d be trading shots with foot soldiers. Hell, it was hard to even call them that considering that a majority of the people she didn’t freeze up with her gaze had lasted less than they could think in a scuffle with Pearl while outnumbering her. Every encounter ended the same way, whether it be two, three, or in her most impressive case, five enemies—with anyone who called themselves an AOZ flag-bearer getting put in a body bag in under three seconds.

Needless to say, the Winged Varsity’s Seraphim among Angels could handle herself with relative ease, but that didn’t stop Corallo from flexing his loyalty by stringing together those four-armed fists into a cataclysm, achieving a swiftness and determination that only he could with his self-taught style. Whereas Opal—who was practically stargazing at the fact that he was so damn good with two extra arms—focused on strength and aggression with the way she handled her engagements, Corallo took a more exercised and focused approach instead, sacrificing what could be a quick and decisive turn in his style to communicate with Pearl and keep her safe above all else.

“I’m marking two to your right, ma’am! One is further back than the other and the one up front is raising a shield! I can push through it if you will allow me!”

“I'm pushing with you, Corallo! Watch the shield I give you and duck when I give the order!”

“On your mark, your eminence!”

A particular enemy that made their presence known was a towering reinforcement who brandished a shield at their front—a Defender, no doubt, under the discipline of Vanguardian. What gave Corallo an edge against them was his willingness to strategize with the woman behind him, a shield of empty air coalescing over his person to not only stop the Defender in their tracks, but push them back once they clashed in their advances, allowing the butler to sweep left and bring himself low. First came a charged jab with two fists straight to the midsection, and then —

“I’M SHOOTING, HEAD DOWN!”

“The floor is yours, my lady!”

—A gathering of wind, shaded in hazel, sent spiraling at their adversary with unmatched precision. Pearl opened her left hand and aimed it forward at the enemy before closing it with a sudden jolt identical to a one inch punch. But this would be much, much more than a punch.

…

Every single Battlemage has an innate technique that is normally reserved as their ace in the hole. These abilities, given form by the smallest foundations of magic, are called Anima Spells, and they come in two variations; Casts and Zones. Pearl only has a Cast, and its name is Clouds.

  Clouds is an ability that lets Pearl manipulate the air around her and pull it into a physical space for offense and defense. Whether it be a shield that her enemy can’t see but clearly feel, a shot of wind so strong that it comes at someone like a punch, or something else entirely that she may have in her back pocket. 

It is also enhanced by a margin of 10% for every sense Pearl deprives herself of, meaning that with the wrappings on her hands and feet made to de-stimulate her touch, and a blindfold over her eyes that allows her to see pockets of air at the cost of her sight, Clouds in the state it was in was 20% stronger than it’d already be if Pearl could see or feel. This ability combined with Pearl’s status as the World Anchor of Earth and Wind was the exact combination that put her above any and all other Battlemages that the world could ever see.

“CLOUDS: BLAZING BRONZE!”

…

It acted like an explosion. It trailed for a single path that got more destructive and heavier on contact as more empty space gathered into its core, soon colliding over Corallo’s shoulder with the shield of their adversary and shooting them so far back that the person behind them couldn’t react in time. 

One second they were summoning an Axe to the free hand of their Vanguardian, and the next they were falling from hundreds of feet in the air with the breath knocked out of both their bodies. But the heroes weren’t done yet. Besides, they weren’t the only people here on business, were they?

…

Lesson Three: You cannot force familiarity. Ebb and Flow.

“No magic.”, Bannri kept repeating to herself. No magic. She couldn’t fall back into the routine of relying on it after spending so long denouncing it from her arsenal, cutting away at the Agents of Zen in an angry, silent visage that continued to build and fester until she felt like she could burst. A majority of her opponents were fodder to her, but she couldn’t pull the same tactic against the small number of guys who actually used their brains when stepping up; much less a certain opponent who didn’t attack her straight on, but used his words to get under her skin.

“Look, I told these guys right to their faces that I was not showing up if they paid me less than three grand. I’m runnin’ on a single cup o’ coffee and zero fucks left in my arsenal, so can we please not drag this out for too long?”

“Good grief.” Bannri groaned. “You’ve only spoken two sentences and I already hate you.”

This was different. Terios was a man who had garnered such a reputation for believing in his own hype that he fought with only one dagger instead of two as a Saboteur. He was a Dog Torjin “paid off” by the Agents of Zen to rend anyone he could find not wearing their insignia on the island dead, and if he couldn’t have the satisfaction that came with chasing innocent lives for nothing more than the thrill and a paycheck, then maybe he’d have to settle for killing Bannri. That was, if he could even get through her. This guy looked like shit—wounds marking both sides of his face and a bandage hastily wrapped around his neck. What happened to this guy? And what was that necklace hanging off his belt?

Their coming engagement was nothing short of what gave their Classes the stardom they deserved; breakneck speed and cutting blows that came and went so fast that breathing was a risk if they weren’t on the offensive. Terios made a mental note of the differences in his style compared to Bannri’s, choosing to capitalize on his underhanded strengths and play into his nature of trying to get into her head. He chopped at her neck, kicked out her knees, and doubled back at any given opportunity to enrage her further and force the girl to act on emotion rather than logic. 

She fell into his hands as soon as this became a cycle, now cutting and swinging with reckless abandon in an attempt to catch him with a single bound that could lead into a string for a fight-ending combo; but nothing ever showed itself. It was like he knew what she was gonna do before she did it, and it didn’t help Bannri’s case of trying to keep her cool.

Hell, she started to fire back with her own swell of dirty fighting, weaving and dodging whatever she could count on and pulling Terios in for a bait-and-punish approach to his advances. Bannri wasn’t that lucky though, as she was caught yet again by his notice of her shift in style, making it priority to adapt to her adaptation before the girl’s sword could even make a cut in his shirt. 

Terios was too fast, too smart, too stubborn. Bannri just couldn’t keep up. He was better than her, in every facet of the art of battle, and started overwhelming the Half-Torjin girl with low-aimed blows of his dagger’s hilt and high-aiming slashes that punctured her shoulders and collarbone.

What was she thinking, breaking off from the rest of the team? Now she was on her last legs and fighting a guy who outdid her at every turn. Bannri was scared. 

She could barely feel her arms three minutes into the fight, and to make matters worse, this guy used magic ; a debuff . Terios’s dagger lit up green, then yellow, then red, and for every hit that he got on her while his dagger was colored did the girl feel her body slow down and her attacks do less damage. 

It even affected her movement speed, which went down so dramatically that it was impossible to even try and keep up with him, this attuning to the spell being casted as soon as he stabbed her right between the ribs. But If this was a spell that was hinged on him hurting her, then he could have done it at any time before now. He was smiling when he saw the fear in her eyes. Bannri was being toyed with. 

And then she got mad. Very, very mad.

…

“Your aversion to magic is not your fault, Bannri. What it is is an indoctrinated fear of pushing back against those who raised you—a subconscious attempt at not shallowing the memories that made their teachings worth it, all in spite of wanting to broaden your horizons.” 

“Yeah, I get that, but what does it help? Just knowing what it is and nothing else isn’t gonna fix my problem, sir. I’m tired of feeling weak and constrained, but I don’t know how to move past it. Being given that middle ground is something I’ve never had.”

“Then look at it in a way that most professional Battlemages do. When you’re out in the field, fighting an opponent that wants nothing more than to take your life…what exactly are you thinking about?”

“How I’m gonna win.”

“But are you? Or are you subconsciously fighting with the goal of winning? How do you intend on lasting against an enemy at their most effective when your mind betrays you and forces you out of focus?”

“…I don’t know, sir.”

“Then allow me to give you some advice. you cannot force familiarity, Bannri. Just Ebb and Flow. Allow yourself to flourish in the uncomfortable and the unfortunate. Be who you believe you could be in that moment, and take charge against the ideals that made you the woman who denounces magic at every turn—but of that same notion, do not lose sight of what’s given you the ability to do so. Allow it to come naturally. Allow it to be formed instead of being created . Ebb. And Flow.”

“…Ebb and Flow. Okay. I can do that. I-I can do this. Thank you, Mr. Rowe.”

“Please—no matter my position, I’ve never been one for formality. Jourdain is fine.”

“But I just spent that whole time calling you sir.”

“Subconsciously, you did.”

“Jeez, Jourdain. Hahaha!”

…

“SNAKE EYES!”

Bannri’s Anima Cast is known as Snake Eyes, which acts as both a counter and a damage buff if executed properly. She will counter an attack to activate the spell, and then be shown two different predictions of the future as to what her opponent might do next. If she is able to correctly predict the future between her two options and capitalize on it within a time limit of ten seconds, she will not only get off another hit in most scenarios, but will also be given a 40% increase to her attack damage and movement speed until the end of the fight.

Though the ability doesn’t stack on itself, there is no denying its capability in turning a battle in Bannri’s favor. Alas, due to a rather poor home life that saw her denounce the use of magic as a way to find acceptance amongst her peers and her family, she had sworn off the idea of using magic unless called for in a situation where if she didn’t, things could go from bad to worse. This was one of those situations. Bannri was not going to die here.

…

Her counter went off without a hitch. Bannri’s katana slashed across Terios’s torso from his hip up to his shoulder, cutting a diagonal line straight into his core that was so powerful that it negated the effects of his debuff. From there, it was slim pickings. She jabbed, cut, punctured, and pierced every visible wound she could reach. In an instant did that former visage of bored superiority fade out into shock, and in an attempt to swing at her head that was not only blocked but countered again, Terios was disarmed of his dagger, had his right arm pulled across his chest to keep him open, and Bannri’s fist was sent flying into his face with such force that a crater formed when he hit the ground. Needless to say, he got what he deserved.

The day was won. Vangelion Falls was successfully defended from its invaders, and just as the one’s doing the defending had regrouped back to where they were dropped off, an airship careened overhead only to land down in front of them and for an armed infantry to exit from its hatch. There were six of them, three on each side, spreading out to pick up the scraps and most importantly, bring Terios into custody. All courtesy of the order of Riley Virtruso.

“Oh. Hi again.”

“You look surprised, P. Did you forget this was my job?”

Or, in Pearl’s case, her ex. A Rabbit Torjin who had made his mark on the world by leading a resistance group against a mega-corp known as the Six-Star Coalition. It was the SSC themselves, actually, that led to Riley coming here in the first place.

“Make no mistake, you guys aren't out of the water yet. All these soldiers you just packed up? Yeah, they’re AOZ. All except the merc. Coalition Spy.”

The very thought of the SSC having spies made Opal’s blood boil. Keil took his sister's hand in his own, having to gently massage the back of it with his thumb to ease her anger so Riley could continue. Once, long ago, the siblings shared a home with Riley. A village, more accurately. A village that the Six-Star Coalition chose to burn down for the sake of building on top of the ashes and expanding their empire, all at the cost of innocent lives.

“He’s not on any of our records, so we’re taking him in for questioning. I’ll contact you when we figure out whatever it is he’s safeguarding, and if that just so happens to be a location, name, etcetera, well…you know what comes next.”

Behind Riley stood a figure who seemed to be just passing through, but ended up stopping right in front of the airship’s open hatch and turning to lock eyes with Keil. Whoever this was, they were a Greystar, like Jourdain, but something was…wrong. His gaze was wrong. All of this was wrong.

…

And then he was gone, as if he were never there at all.

“I’ll debrief with my guys and see what we can figure out. See you then.” Riley would end his brief with the heroes, turning and leaving back into the hatch of the airship that carried him here.

“Thank you, Mister Virtruso.” Corallo would speak up in earnest.

“Don’t mention it. Just take care of Princess Precipitation over there and we’ll get along just fine.”

Corallo shared a chuckle with the freedom fighter at what was Pearl’s apparent nickname, getting a sigh out of her and earning a playful punch to the shoulder for his troubles. The day was won, and everyone was exhausted—so a little R&R seemed to be in order.