***
“This is obviously illogical,” I say, “Ocean Woman has power over water itself. Why does she physically engage the mind-controlled sharks one by one, when she could simply push them away? Also, ThauCon exists in this fictional universe, so what are they doing?”
Kaelich laughs. “If you wrote this movie, Ocean Woman would write a report to the relevant authorities in the first ten minutes, then she’d spend the rest of the episode lecturing the public about proper procedure.”
We’re on reserve duty, so our task is to stay in the base and be ready to answer a call, but we can do whatever we want. Incredibly, Kaelich convinced us to watch xir favorite TV show. So we’re all sitting on dingy cushions in the R&R room, in front of a wide screen running Ocean Woman. We could have a better viewing experience streaming it to our implants, but apparently, that’s not sociable.
“And the villain makes no sense,” Althea says, looking personally affronted. “Xe’s clearly a Mind Mage, probably a Puppeteer. Xe can influence thousands of targets at long range, so xe's a Grandmaster at least. Why control sharks to kill people, instead of just controlling those people?”
I expected to be bored by the silly superhero show, but actually, I can’t take my eyes away from it. Every single detail is so illogical, so mind-numbingly stupid, that I can’t wait to see what new absurdity every scene will add.
At first, I tried to keep myself from remarking on the plot holes. But when I finally snapped and complained about the obviously inconsistent nature of Ocean Woman’s power, Kaelich couldn’t stop laughing. While xe honestly likes the show, xe seems to enjoy my commentary. And since the villain is an evil mage, Althea is having a field day, too.
“Sweet Doctor, help me,” Sorivel says, “I thought watching stupid shows with Kaelich couldn’t possibly get worse, but with the two of you being pedantic, it’s a whole new level of pain.”
He sounds sleepy - he’s the only one who doesn’t seem interested in the show at all. But he’s leaning against Kaelich, with his head resting against xir shoulder. I suspect he enjoys the seating arrangement more than the show itself.
“They’re much better than you for a watch party,” Kaelich says, upbeat. “At least they’re paying attention!”
I’m actually playing up my outrage at the show’s inconsistencies. Usually people don’t like when I point out mistakes in fiction, but Kaelich and Althea keep laughing at my observations, as if they were jokes. Strangely, I like that. I tend to hate when people laugh at my words. But of course, they usually do that in derision.
“The villain is kind of cool,” Althea says, “even if xir plans are stupid. I should learn to float dramatically like that.”
“Are you seriously taking style lessons from a cliché movie villain?” Sorivel asks, incredulous. “Look, I don’t want to hear anything more about this, I’ll run music on my implants and nap.”
He stretches his legs on the floor - he’s so tall, they almost reach the screen - and with a gesture that could even look natural to a casual observer, he rests his head on Kaelich’s thigh. Kaelich doesn’t seem to give it much thought - Landfallers are very casual with physical touch, possibly because they live squeezed in can-sized flats anyway. But I can tell Sorivel didn’t do this casually at all. His cheeks show a hint of purple, and he has a stupid smile.
More data suggesting that he has it bad for Kaelich. It’s hard to believe that dour, detached Sorivel could have a crush on our annoying-ball-of-sunshine corporal. But he sure likes being close to xem.
“And why would the villain ride a shark on the frontline?” I ask, “That needlessly exposes them, without providing any strategical advantage. Clearly…”
I stop, as red notifications pop in my vision. Kaelich frowns, and for a moment I think it must be a mistake, we’re only on reserve duty, after all.
A moment later, the base sirens blare, in a tone I’ve never heard before.
“What is that?” Althea asks, calm – she doesn’t get Neuralink notifications, and she ignores her phone more often than not. “Extra-shitty-weather alarm? Captain’s-out-of-snacks alarm?”
“You should familiarize yourself with the emergency warning system,” I say, sterner than I meant to. “Anyway, it’s a red alarm. Everyone’s called on duty. Let’s go to the locker room.”
Since we were on standby, not actual duty, we’re wearing our field suits, but no armor. With a sigh, Sorivel disentangles from Kaelich and stands up, stretching his arms.
“I was having fun,” Kaelich grumbles, “this has better be the Black Liar back to life.”
We rush to put our training weapons back in the rack, and I open the most urgent notification.
----------------------------------------
CODE RED - ONGOING MAGICAL EVENT – LETHAL HARM TO PERSONS
Event origin: Two mages confirmed, multiple suspected
Location: Rakavdon vac-train station
Intensity: Source alpha: 3.4 - Source beta: 2.9. Signature masked until level 2.8 (A) and 2.3 (B).
Modulation: Alpha: Path of Shaping (85%), wind (15%). Beta: Path of Ruin (70%), mind (20%)
Information: gunfight reported. Multiple casualties.
----------------------------------------
“Shit,” Kaelich says, playfulness evaporating from xir face. “Everyone, join the channel.”
I blink to join team comms, and I see Aeniki and Lieutenant Comarch entered the channel. I sigh inwardly – Sareas is an asshole, but he can do his job. LT Comarch is a camel-headed bureaucrat.
“Team Blue reporting for duty,” Kaelich adds a moment later, in the common channel. “We’ll be ready for deployment in seven minutes.”
“Lieutenant Comarch here,” a gravelly voice says. “Team Green is ready. Team Blue, Team Gold, prepare for deployment. Gold will take the quad-copter. Green and Blue, you’ll take the mag line. Train is at the train station, so you’ll be as fast as the chopper.”
“Roger, ma’am,” Kaelich says, as we jog to the lockers. “Since we take the tube, we’ll suit up en route – we’ll be ready in three minutes. What’s the situation?”
Quick notifications flash by my eyes – we’ve been added into a common channel with teams green and gold.
“Specialist Aeniki here, I’ll provide mission control,” a deeply annoyed voice says. How is she always the one on duty? Don’t we have a second signal analyst? “The situation is fucked up, and we don’t know shit. There are at least two mages, barricaded inside a train carriage, and a bunch of gangsters outside, shooting at them. At least seven civilians are hurt, both gang members and bystanders. Two confirmed dead. There was a third signal, but it ended abruptly - possibly, one mage was killed.”
“Gangsters?” Althea asks, “like, mundane criminals are shooting mages?”
“Gold Leader here,” a calm voice says, “my bet is, it’s a mundane gang ambushing a Syndicate Squad. If so, the mages are bad news. Lieutenant, my team is veteran, but Green has limited combat experience and Blue has none. There are at least two enemy Adepts. We’ll be ready for deployment in six minutes, but I advise waiting for Team Orange and Yellow.”
One level 3.5 - an Adept - and one level 2.9 - a strong Initiate. We have a heavy team and two regular ones. On paper, we have sufficient forces - if barely. Realistically… The heavy team might lose limbs to osteoporosis if they try to charge. I don’t trust team Green in the least. And as for us, Gold Leader says the truth: we have no combat experience.
“Negative, Corporal,” the Lieutenant says, annoyed. “Team Orange won’t be here for twelve more minutes. Half of team Yellow is off-city. By the Operational Guidelines, we have sufficient forces to engage.”
“Lieutenant,” team Gold’s captain says, “I must warn you that Mage Za Ruik won’t be much use today.”
“Abyss forbid any other mage here actually does something,” Althea mutters, off comms. “You’re lucky I’m amazing.”
“Is your mage indisposed? You didn’t notify that, Gold Leader,” the Lieutenant says.
“Gold mage here. I’m not indisposed,” Za Ruik says – I remember the young-looking man in the relic room. His voice sounds distant. Thin. “The Else is unstable. It is… it’s not yet time. Not yet. But it will be, soon.”
“Gold mage, clarify,” Comarch asks, sounding unbothered, “are you in condition to deploy?”
A moment of silence.
“I am,” Za Ruik says, sounding unconvinced. Fuck, he should just retire instead of endangering everyone.
“Then we engage. End of discussion,” LT Comarch says.
My heart sinks - we engage. But I also feel a weird relief - these are Syndicate mages in Rakavdon. What’s the point of us, if we let them be while we wait for reinforcements?
We reach the locker room. Our armors and weapons wait for us in the rack. We can get armored in four minutes – we practiced that – but we’ll save some time suiting up on the capsule.
“I don’t like this,” Sorivel mumbles.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Althea says, with a wide smile. Fuck, she’s happy. “I could probably take out the weaker one by myself. Just throw silver at the stronger one and we’ll be fine.”
Some of Althea’s excitement rubs on me. This is my first true combat operation, and it feels unreal, like it’s happening to someone else. But it also feels right. I’ve trained for years for this. We face stronger enemies than I expected - all the better. We mean to show everyone we’re better than they expected from us, too.
I make a quick equipment check – chest, greaves, helmet, gloves. Sword, knife, theta grenade, silver grenade. Three doses of Rush, three of Still. I grab everything and follow Kaelich toward the maglev platform.
We run through the inner and outer doors, into the courtyard, to the tube platform. I curse at the sharp, icy wind. There’s a capsule, a silvery cylinder with ThauCon logo on its sides, waiting for us. Team Green is already inside, they were on watch duty.
“Team Blue reporting, ma’am. You have command,” Kaelich says, snapping a salute at Gehat - Team Green’s Leader. Her face is ashen, her mouth pressed in a line. Jaeleri stands at the opposite end of the carriage, looking sour and terrified.
He and Za Ruik won’t be of any use. For every purpose, I must assume Althea is our only mage. She’s level 2.2, but she’s a Shield-Maker - her defense can stand up to a 2.9 mage. She won’t hold long against the 3.5 Adept, though.
“Suit up, Team Blue,” Sergeant Gehat answers, without looking at us. She taps her helmet, muting the microphone. “And let’s hope this doesn’t go sideways. If we’re lucky, the mages and the gangster kill each other before we get there.”
As the carriage accelerates, we take off our field suits and start wearing our armors - for once, I’m so busy worrying about the operation that I don’t care about stripping to my underwear. That, or the fucking Karesians are getting to me.
“Gold leader here. Boarding the chopper now. What’s the plan?”
“Every team engages the targets. Team gold takes point,” Comarch answers. Does she actually think this is an operational plan? How did that woman get an officer commission?
“What would we do, without lieutenants,” Gehat says, softly. Sorivel makes the Sign of the Officers.
“Targets are still within the train,” Aeniki says, with a sigh. “There are no civilians near them, fortunately. At least ten gangsters have taken position on both sides of the train and they’re firing at the mages. I can route our maglev carriage to the next track, just across the platform, near the stairway. This way, the stair’s structure will give you cover, and you’ll block the only way for the mages to retreat. The station’s ceiling is high enough that our chopper can fly inside, and drop Team Gold directly on the target train.”
It shouldn’t be Aeniki’s role to suggest an operational plan, that’s the LT job, but I can hardly blame her. How did we get such terrible officers?
“Proceed with this plan,” Comarch says, sounding like she doesn’t care for such minor details.
“What do we know about the mages?” Althea asks, “and why are they still on the train?”
“The Adept is level 3.4 at least, and definitely a Shaper,” Aeniki says, sounding confused. “I have a picture. She looks about twenty-five, white skin and black hair, for what is worth. She’s channeling a defense, but doesn’t seem to be doing much else. The Initiate is shooting short bursts of Else-Fire at the gangsters.”
Three point four. Strong enough to hurt us through silver armor. I finish wearing my armor, and triple-check the silver plates.
I’m not exactly afraid, but I’m… aware. Of my heart beating in my chest, of the sweat drenching my armor’s padding, of tables about magical power and armor penetration. Of Sorivel mumbling prayers and Gehat’s hands shaking slightly. Everything seems… intense, and yet less than real. Like when I take combat drugs. I guess natural adrenaline does the job, too.
“Wait, something is wrong,” Althea says. “How are a bunch of mundane criminals fighting an Adept? She should cut through them like wet paper.”
She’s right. This doesn’t add up - I try to analyze this rationally, like a case study in a textbook. Show your work, like Quicksilver says.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Also,” I add, “a Shape-path Adept could easily flee by passing through floors and walls. There’s no way non-magical criminals can keep two strong mages pinned.”
“They have a lot of silver bullets,” Aeniki says. “And I’m watching security camera recordings - the mages were ambushed as they were going down the train. I think the Adept was wounded.”
That’s reassuring. If a bunch of thugs with guns managed to hurt this mage, she can’t be that powerful. The Path of Shaping is less dangerous than Ruin, or Wind, after all. But Althea doesn’t look convinced, and I see her point - dealing with a level three mage needs multiple ThauCon teams in full combat armor. Guys with silver bullets shouldn’t stand a chance.
“Can we kill the mundane gangsters too, just to be sure?” Althea says, sounding a bit too enthusiastic. “Something’s up with them. And they deserve it anyway.”
“Negative,” the Lieutenant says. “Avoid engaging the gangsters, they’re a problem for the regular police. Fire back if they attack you, clearly.”
I finish connecting my gloves, and finally wear my helmet. I feel a little better, in full armor. At level 3.4, the mage’s direct attacks are dangerous, even like this. For a Shape-mage, the most dangerous attack would be to collapse the floor or the ceiling on us, but we’ll have a half-second of warning if she tries that. She could also create a physical weapon and infuse it with magic - like an impossibly sharp blade or spear. But that would mean she’d have to get close to us, and a Shaped weapon will break against my sword.
The second mage is less worrying. The Path of Ruin is devastating against physical defenses, but easily stopped by silver. Since the Ruin-mage is below level three, they can’t hurt us directly.
We can do this.
Aeniki sends us a map of the train station via StemLink. I study it, and find the situation simple enough - the mages barricaded on a train on the last platform. The only way out, short of collapsing the floor or several walls, is the stairs where we’ll set up.
“Team Green will take position behind the stairs 2B,” Gehat orders, “Team Blue behind 2C. Take cover and do nothing unless you’re ordered, or the mage tries to leave the train.”
If I were uncharitable, I could point out that team green gets the best cover, and if the mage tries running away, it will probably be toward us – the closest exit is our way.
But there’s no point challenging Gehat on her cowardice. After all, there’s no rule stating the senior team should get the most dangerous position. And unlike them, we have a real team mage, so we’re undeniably better positioned to engage.
Will we really fight an adept head-on?
“She’s a shape-mage, you idiots” Jaeleri grumbles, squinting at Gehat. “If she wants out, she’ll go through the floor.”
Gehat turns off her mic and turns to the mage. “Your point being? We can’t stop her from doing that, unless you suddenly became worth something as a Fold-Mage. And personally, if the Adept wants to flee I’ll hold the door open for her, and make a curtsy too.”
She doesn’t even pretend to be willing to do her job. Fortunately, I’m working on the assumption Team Green is a liability anyway.
“Gold leader here, chopper in position. We have a direct read on the target’s theta signal. We’re ready to deploy.”
“Aeniki here. Both mages are still on the train. There’s still sparse gunfire. Blue and Green will be in position in two minutes.”
“Team Gold,” LT Comarch says, “send drones, confirm target position and deploy with caution. Don’t board the train until Blue and Green are in position.”
Our capsule brakes sharply as we enter the station, and I’m sick with fear and anticipation. I have vivid memories of Vakris’ room, of the orange light slicing through his body. Of Else-fire, brighter than anything should be, leaping straight at me.
The train has almost stopped. I steal a glance at my teammates. Sorivel has his eyes closed, his face a mask of concentration as his swarm of drones scuttles to the door - is he mumbling prayers, or commands?
Kaelich is checking xir rifle for the umpteenth time, xir skin looking a little ashen. But xe notices I’m looking at xem, and xe flashes me a big smile.
Althea stands a little apart from us, with her arms raised, and too-green light pools around her body, coalescing in a host of Else-Glass cubes, in the rough shape of an armor.
“You look like you fell in a green jelly cube,” Kaelich says.
“Once again, you absolutely can’t eat Else-Glass, ser,” Althea answers. Her armor is so bright, it bathes the whole carriage in green light.
I try to add some observations to their banter, but I don’t have it in me. I think about how powerful Althea is, about the way she triggered seismic alarms with a bunch of bullet casings, and that we’re going against a mage more than four times stronger than she is.
“Blademasters go first,” Gehat commands, as the doors slide open. “Drone controllers, stay inside and send your scouts. Everyone, don’t shoot the fucking gangsters, unless they shoot first. If they shoot first, ask no question and kill them all. Go, go, go!”
I stand frozen for a moment, waiting for my teammates to go, then I remember I am the blademaster, and I force my legs to move. Why is everything so much more difficult in a real deployment, compared to training? So inconvenient.
I get out of the train – sirens are sounding all over the station, all billboards only show the message EMERGENCY – EVACUATE THE STATION. The noise of gunshots fills the air but I can’t see the source. The deafening rumble of the quad-copter drowns everything else.
I run to the low wall which surrounds the stairwell - I have to crouch to be completely covered by it. I pass a young man, sitting behind a column - he holds a gun with one hand, while the other is horribly burned. His t-shirt is soaked with blood.
Kaelich’s steps echo behind me, and two flying drones zip over us. I have a full view of the target’s train - it’s riddled with bullets, electric arcs crackle all over the broken maglev tracks, and part of the carriage looks like it melted. Two red circles forms in my visor, highlighting the mages’ positions. I peek past the wall, trying to get a direct look, but they’re standing in the connection between two carriages, where there are no windows.
They’re less than twenty meters away from us.
Althea steps behind me, arms raised, and thousands of green cubes swarm to form a wall between us and the train. As they merge, they become a single, smooth barrier of emerald green, clear enough that we can see through it. It’s a few meters in front of us, so that it cuts our enemies from the stairway - clever. I take a deep breath, feeling safer behind Althea’s shield.
“How am I supposed to shoot?” Kaelich asks, pointing at the barrier.
“Just shoot whatever breaks through the shield,” Althea answers.
“Green Leader here. We’re in position,” Gehat says.
“Gold Leader. We go,” the old soldier answers.
A hurricane wind sweeps through the station, and the quad-copter dives below the ceiling’s glass arch, narrowly avoiding a steel support beam. In a moment, it’s hovering right above the train.
“DEATH TO TRAITORS!” A booming voice yells in the channel. “TO VICTORY! TO A MENDED SKY!”
It takes me a moment to recognize him - it’s Sergeant Khor, Team Gold’s geriatric, kindly Blademaster.
The quad-copter hovers ten meters above the train’s ceiling, so I expect Team Gold to rappel down. Instead, two figures in massive, bulky power armor just jump down from the chopper, landing on the marble platform. I feel the shockwave going through the floor, and a spiderweb of cracks expands where they fell.
As they get up, a huge spider-drone, each spindly leg longer than I’m tall, descends from the chopper dangling from a metallic-looking thread, finally landing right over the train.
A split second later, the two heavies are back on their feet - it seems power armor lives up to its reputation. They look like giant silver statues, strangely rounded, as if they were very fat, or wearing puffy snow jackets. The rifleman looks huge, even if I know her for a mid-sized old woman. Khor, however, looks like a titan, the sword seems a toy in his hands. A moment after landing, he kicks the train’s door. The thick carbon fiber shatters like glass, and the veterans jump onboard.
“SURRENDER! AND DIE!” Khor yells, and his armor’s loudspeakers broadcast carry his voice, even over the sirens and the chopper’s rotors. After that, he bursts into booming laughter.
Ok, I might possibly need to edit Team Gold’s description for Quicksilver. Some of the tension leaves me - it looks like our heavies are adequate to their task.
Alarms blip in my visor - theta peak, Ruin-path. Orange lightning lights the train from the inside, blowing up windows and cutting through steel. That’s the weakest mage, though. What’s the Adept doing?
A moment later, there’s a stronger theta peak - Shape-path. The train’s underside melts like hot glass around the stronger mage’s position - is she escaping, like Jaeleri predicted?
“Something’s strange,” Sorivel says. “Something… I think something stopped her. Aeniki, do you read a third signal?”
“Negative,” Aeniki answers, “still two, but…”
Before she can add anything else, Za Ruiks talks in the common channel, sounding dazed.
“Team Blue,” he whispers, “be ready. She comes.”
I barely have time to process his words, before tendrils of indigo light spread over the train’s frame, right where my visor tags the stronger mage. The metal and carbon fiber swells where the light touches, it makes me think of sickness spreading through veins.
Rush, release, I command to my implants, and feel the pinprick of pain as the stimulants are injected right in my neck.
Then the mage steps through the train. It ripples like water at her passage, and some of the flowing metal clings to her, forming a liquid armor all around her body, veined with blue light. Only her eyes remain uncovered. They’re a blue so dark, it should be almost black, and yet they glow like a second sun.
Behind her, the train’s surface flows, rushing to seal the doors and covering the windows - shutting the heavies inside. She jumps onto the platform and lands in a crouch. As her hand touches the ground, the stone floor crackles and vibrates.
“Fire at will!” Gehat commands. “Theta grenades ready!”
Kaelich runs past the edge of Althea’s shield and starts firing. Xir bullets hit - of course they do - and blue ripples spread on the mage’s armor, like stones falling into a pond.
The mage stands up, and as she does, she pulls a stone sword from the floor, longer than I’m tall. It leaves a sword-shaped gap on the platform. It also should be far too heavy to handle, but it glows indigo, and the mage holds it as if it was feather-light.
I raise my own sword, moving to a fighting stance, and I’m weirdly empty of fear, or anything else - there’s an enemy, she has a sword, that’s a problem I can solve. She’ll have a large reach advantage on me, and magic will make her much stronger. But such a heavy weapon will become a liability as soon as it touches silver, because without magic it will break easily.
Then the mage runs toward us, and with her free hand, she hurls Else-Fire at Althea’s shield. It looks like a mass of snarling roots, with a suggestion of teeth. I’m pretty sure only the detachment of combat drugs - or good old adrenaline - keeps me from screaming and running away.
“Fuck,” Althea says, surprised, as half of her barriers breaks down into its constituent cubes - but still stops the mage.
“When the shield falls, throw a theta grenade,” Kaelich orders. “I’ll shoot.”
I grab a grenade with my off hand. Althea makes a jerking movement with her arms, and she uproots a trash bin, making it float in midair.
Then the mage reaches the shield and strikes it with her sword. Her swing is unbalanced and awkward, she’s a shit swordswoman.
Which is fortunate, because in its wide arc, her blade slices clean through a steel support pillar, as if it wasn’t even there. Then it hits Althea’s weakened shield, and this time, a whole section of the green barrier explodes in a cascade of Else-Glass cubes, which soon dissolve into emerald sparks.
Althea flicks her wrist, and the shield disappears entirely. There’s nothing between us and the mage, now. Her unearthly blue light bathes the whole station, it’s like being deep underwater. Her eyes don’t look like eyes at all, they’re pits, going deep beneath the world, and showing the endless fire of the Else.
I should be doing something. I should fight. But what’s the point? The world itself unravels where this woman steps.
“Ceri!” Kaelich yells, “grenade!”
Xir rifle cracks and cracks, and blue ripples form on the metal protecting the woman’s face. She turns to Kaelich, raising her sword.
That finally snaps me from my stupor - stupid, stupid. This is no time to freeze. I clench my fist to activate the grenade and throw it.
My timing is right, it triggers with a sharp crack just in front of the mage. It doesn’t do much in the Here, it just splits, and electric arcs dance between the two halves. But the mage’s armor ripples and wavers, suddenly engulfed by blue fire, and chunks of it are torn away, clinking on the floor as they revert to regular metal.
The mage screams in anger and takes a step back. Then she throws Else-fire at Kaelich, but it’s weaker than before, unfocused, and xe’s quick to step behind the stairwell’s cover.
I charge toward the mage, but at the same time, Althea pushes her arms forward, and the trash bin she’s Juggling flies toward her, too - I have to duck on the side not to be hit, breaking my charge. Althea, in turns, deviates the trash bin away from me, entirely missing the enemy mage.
Fuck. The mage’s already recovering from the grenade, the liquid metal of her armor flows to fill the cracks, blue light flows again along the oversized blade.
No time to waste. I fight the impulse to run away, or to cower, and rush at her, my sword low. With painful predictability, she swings her huge blade at me, but she’s too slow and high - I parry her sword from below with my left arm, and as the silver in my armor touches it, the blue light drains, leaving the sword a useless, unwieldy chunk of stone.
I’m inside her guard now, and I know how to use a sword. I hit her square in the chest, and a whole section of the metal armor freezes and breaks off, revealing translucent blue flesh beneath.
“Agency for Thaumological Control! Leave the Else and surrender!” I command, as I position myself for the killing blow - it’s not like I actually expect her to surrender.
My foot catches on something, though, and I stumble. I look down - the floor is raising in waves, roiling like the sea. I barely manage to avoid falling, and the mage takes a step back, recovering. Then her sword swings down, and disoriented, I can’t duck properly. I have to block with my own blade.
She’s strong, As the blades touch, my hand goes numb, the shock going all the way to my shoulder. But her sword cracks where it hit mine. A split second later, a bullet hits its weak spot, and a good half of the stone sword breaks off, falling to the ground.
Rush. A feel a pinprick, and my nerves burn as more combat drugs rush into my system. The world seems to slow a little, and I recover before I fall to the ground.
I’m unbalanced, though, my grip on my sword unsteady. The mage hurls Else-Fire at me, and for a moment, all I see are dark blue veins, hungry, reaching for me…
A green barrier flicks into existence between me and the mage - it lasts only a split second before breaking, but it takes the brunt of the assault, and the rest fizzles against the silver in my suit. I rush the mage again, balancing on the rolling floor. I try to hit her where her armor is broken, but she turns, and the best I can do is shatter another part of her armor, just below the collarbone.
The ground lurches again, and this time I’m too tired and unbalanced - I fall, barely managing to end on my knees and keep my sword in hand. The mage turns to me, and I try to get up, but I know there’s no time - she’ll strike me, and I’ll die.
A massive metal spider throws itself at the mage, entangling her in spindly, sharp metal limbs. There must be silver in them, because the mage screams, and at least one scythe-like limb cuts through her armor. Her disincarnated flesh tears, bleeding blue light.
The mage pushes away the drone with her open palm, and as she touches it, its joints explode, severing at least half of the legs. Her armor is in tatters, but she manages to get out of the drone’s deadly hug. I’m back on my feet, and…
“DEATH TO DEMON-CALLERS!” A voice bellows, and a giant in silver armor, impossibly fast, runs toward us, sword in one hand and knife in the other.
For a moment, I see terror on the mage in front of me. She raises her sword to protect herself, but with a perfect, fluid motion the old blademaster parries the sword with his knife, and then rams his own sword through the mage’s chest.
Her eyes go wide, and she looks at the blade passing straight to her body. Despite everything, the sight makes me nauseous - I’ve never really seen, up in person, someone being killed.
“They’re playing you, idiots,” the mage says, disdainful.
Then the blue light leaves her body. Not gradually, like it usually happens when a mage leaves the Else. All of a sudden. I feel… as if something snaps in place, and the world returns to normal. No blue light, no roiling floor. A stone sword clatters to the ground, breaking into dozens of shards. Bits of metal flake from the mage’s body - a flesh-and-bone body now, dark skinned, a few years older than me, her clothes torn. Blood gushes from the wound going through her chest.
I check for the other mage - my visor marks them as neutralized. I guess Team Gold took care of that too.
“Blue leader here,” Kaelich says, sounding dazed. “Target alpha eliminated. No casualties on our side. We… there are wounded civilians. We should help.”
“Make sure to disarm the gangsters first,” Lieutenant Comarch says. “Make clear it’s in their interest to cooperate with us before the police gets involved.”
“Where’s the other one?” Za Ruik asks.
“Which other one?” Comarch answers. “Corporal Aeniki, do you still read a magical signal?”
“Negative,” Aeniki says. She doesn’t sound convinced, though.
“It was…” Za Ruik says. “It was a mistake. My bad.”
My heart hammers in my chest. I sit down on the pavement, fearing I’ll faint. I could have died. And now I’m a meter away from a corpse.
“Damn,” the old blademaster says, cheerful, as he pulls his sword from the mage's corpse. “I’ll feel my back tomorrow. But someone gotta take care of you kids.”