***HERA***

Even with all the cobble on the road, she found no friction to stand upon. The sense of vertigo that accompanied a sideways fall entrenched itself as one of the most heartwrenching experiences in Hera’s memory.

With her body plummeting rapidly towards the twirling scythe, Hera screamed. She could see the pieces of trash and rubble sucked into the spinning blade and emerging as clean, smaller shreds. The image of her body as ground beef did not curb her utter panic.

Zeta zipped past and plunged his sword into the ground, tearing up the street. Coming to a grinding halt, he managed to stop the pull of Terrent’s Turbine. Hera flew directly at him, and he extended a hand which she managed to catch. Flapping like a flag, she tugged on his arm with all her strength.

“Thank you! Thank you! Please, for the love of God, do not let go!” she pleaded.

Zeta’s face was strained in a grimace. His veins bulged as his legs dug into the street and his arm gripped tightly to the stone-stuck sword. It shifted. “That…may not be…my choice!”

“Zeta, if you let go, I will haunt you through Hell and back!”

While she held on for dear life, Zeta was also tugging on her arm as well. He tried to bring her hand to Black Meridian. More leverage perhaps. The wind was so damn powerful.

They could hear Terrent’s voice through the air. From where he was standing behind the Turbine, the worst he probably felt was a gentle breeze.

“Are you both having fun? Don’t spend too much time on the playground, kids! You might get hurt, or worse.”

With one of her hands on the sword, Zeta could use both arms to grip Black Meridian. He pushed it further into the ground for a better anchor. Hera meanwhile, reached around his chest and clung like a tight vest.

It probably hurt to hold on for both of them, but as of now, Hera valued her own life above all else. Selflessness can be damned. I’ll apologize later.

Terrent yawned. “Do you plan on doing anything? I have no intention to shut down the Turbine, and this desperate struggle of yours is growing stale.”

They said nothing.

“Oh, I know! Let’s set the mood!” He reached both arms to the sky. “Falling Rain.”

The clouds grayed all over Aspic, and soon enough they were shedding tears. Hera had heard it before. As the name implied, Falling Rain merely summoned a rainstorm, harmless in and of itself, perfect for arid farmers.

With winds blowing their way, the raindrops were pin sized lacerations.

Zeta and Hera shielded their eyes, but blind perseverance only loosened their grip. The dirt beneath their feet moistened into a mud. Dampened clothes grew tight and uncomfortable. Zeta’s sword started to shake as it’s anchorage was questioned. It started slicing through the softened ground like butter, sliding towards the Turbine.

“No! No!” Hera cried. “Stop! Stop!”

“Now this is more like it. Lives a slip away from being extinguished!” declared Terrent.

“Hera, I can’t keep mistreating Black Meridian like this!” Zeta said. “The blade is tough, but not invincible!”

“You cannot seriously be worried about the sword right now! Our lives are at stake!”

“Maybe not,” he said.

In a flash, he tore his sword out of the ground, turned his body around and fired Impossible Shot at the exposed Terrent. Perplexed, Terrent ducked to the side and grabbed his scythe to block Zeta’s follow-ups. Doing so ended the Turbine.

Hera fell flat on her stomach and slid through the mud from momentum. Great. She sat up and watched Zeta use his own physics to soar directly at Terrent, sword poised for lethal precision. Even though Terrent blocked the strike, Zeta came in with such great force that it knocked him over.

As the dust cleared, Zeta fired Impossible Shot after Impossible Shot, shooting with a ferocity that made Terrent backstep even in the vainest attempts, backstep towards her.

When Terrent was close enough, she rolled out of the mud and charged at him, poking him in the back of rib cage.

“Agh!” Even without Neural Fighter, that one would have hurt. Even as the attacker, she winced.

With that opening, Zeta’s next shot pierced through Terrent’s shoulder. Terrent swung the scythe behind him to get away, grazing Hera’s cheek.

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“Clever one, you two,” he groaned. “Harpy, you really live up to your name.”

Zeta crept up behind him, sword raised for a high slash. Terrent turned around and locked the sword in place with the scythe.

“If you don’t mind playing dirty, you won’t mind me evening the odds. After all, two opponents require two blades.”

He pulled away from Zeta and held his scythe out in front of him. “Dual Scythe: Pinwheel Formation.”

At the other end of the shaft, another curved blade protruded, pointing opposite of the original.

Zeta started shooting again, but two blades deflected all shots with ease. Even if Hera tried to get close, Terrent swung her way and still maintained a defense against Zeta’s sustained fire. Terrent pulled back and kept them both at bay.

“Want to see a cool trick? I learned that with two blades, this wind is stronger.” He held up the scythe. “Summer Fan.”

The tunneling hurricane dawned upon them instantaneously, launching them quite a way down the street. There was no hint of resistance. By the time they were standing, Terrent was merely a speck in Hera’s field of vision.

Terrent cried from down the street. “Turbine!”

Even as their position, the pull of the wind swiped them off their feet and rapidly towards the spinning blades. Zeta couldn’t plunge his sword in the ground, and there was nothing to stagger the impact. In a desperate bid, Hera used Neural Flash and braced for a gruesome death.

“Dual Wield!” Zeta cried, splitting Black Meridian into two. As he reached the makeshift grinder, he spun and blocked both ends of the scythe simultaneously. Such a block was enough for both of to pass through the Turbine unharmed, sliding against the ground yonder in a burning skid.

It hurt like hell to land that way, but at least they were alive.

Terrent was stunned. “Damn. I didn’t expect that.”

***ZETA***

Zeta had enough of Gust at this point. As soon as physics allowed him, he rushed towards Gust, who picked up his dropped double-bladed scythe.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, master swordsman,” Gust grinned.

With two swords in hand, Zeta barraged Gust with an unrelenting fury of blows. All the while he observed for the tips of the scythes. The curved nature of the blades might nick him vitally around the bend of his sword.

“Ingenuitive. Perceptive. Precise. Were you not a man and a foe I’d make you my bride you loveable goat!”

Gust kept spinning the scythe like a motor. Above, to the side, even below. Thankfully, Zeta saw the strikes incoming, but they weren’t pleasant to defend against.

Sir Kagan used a scythe in a training session once. For all his skills, Zeta’s master was still a flawed man. He cut a classmate’s arm in a demonstration, as the curved nature of the scythe was deceptively effective. They didn’t speak with their master for a week after that, but Zeta could hear sorrowful sobs and the stray whiffs of alcohol.

Midway through the clash, Zeta tossed the copy of his sword aside, letting it dissipate into nothingness as the sigma stated. He swapped that hand for Impossible Shot and adopted the late Marc Crue’s style.

Gust managed to stay unharmed, but the intermittent invisible bullet coupled with Zeta’s attacks put him on the defensive. Eventually, Zeta was just pelting him from a distance.

“Bullets again? Have you learned nothing?” he asked.

“No, he hasn’t,” said Hera. She snuck up behind Gust and jabbed his backside repeatedly. The pain must have been so great that Gust dropped his guard entirely, allowing the next wave of Impossible Shots to pierce his body.

Gust dropped his scythe and rolled out of the way. The second blade dissipated. “Ah. You have no remorse, dear Harpy,” he said.

“You might have two scythes, but that doesn’t equate to beating two opponents,” she said. “Not even you can track two determined minds, Terrent.”

“I suppose not,” he said, opening his hand. “Twister.”

While they dived out of the way of the wrath of nature, Gust retrieved his sword and raised it like a hammer about to strike a nail. Zeta glanced up to witness the sun gleam off the point before the scythe came crashing down with maximum force.

It would have struck Zeta’s arm, but a wince from Neural Flash distorted Gust’s aim. It smacked the ground, sticking the scythe between cobblestones and keeping it firmly entrenched.

Zeta rolled away, jumped up, and flung himself around with Black Meridian’s vast reach. Gust grimaced with sweat running down his face, arms and legs as he leaned back, forced to abandon his beloved weapon.

Zeta used the scythe as a jumping prop to gain a height advantage over Gust, holding his sword as if to slice the world itself. The shaft of the scythe snapped from his weight, effectively killing the weapon.

“Damn you!” Gust said as he avoided Zeta’s downward slash. He prepared another Twister but felt a tap on his shoulder. Hera decked him in the cheek, and Gust rocketed into a nearby wall.

As the smoke cleared, Gust was covered in blood and now had two fierce opponents charging at his flanks.

***TERRENT GUST***

“This joke isn’t amusing anymore,” Terrent said through grated teeth. With his hands, he twisted an invisible valve. “Summer Fan.”

Both of them went reeling, but neither flew off the ground. Instead, they persisted through the winds. Terrent turned the valve again. “Summer Fan.”

Their arms were guarding their faces, and their legs were bent to keep them as still as statues. They remained immobile, but that also meant they weren’t going away.

Why isn’t this working?

“Summer Fan. Summer Fan! SUMMER FAN!” Terrent continued to twist the valve, barraging them with tunnels of wind.

Despite the strain in their expressions, neither the Harpy nor Zeta were willing to step back an inch. They only grew ever closer.

And closer, and closer. Until Terrent was trapped in a corner. Finally, there was no more time for another Summer Fan. Black Meridian slashed at his throat.

Terrent raised his hands. “Okay, I surrender,” and the blade stopped right in front of his larynx.

“You…what?”

“It’s over. That’s all. I’m done. I’m defeated. You win. Move on. Take down the Lion and leave me alone, thank you.”

Hera gripped his collar and prepared to bash his face in. “After all this, you think you just get to say ‘good game’ and walk away?”

“Now, now, let’s not be bullies, Harpy,” Terrent said with a flood of nervous sweat.

There was an aura of wrath about her. Hera’s grip was so tight his own clothes began to suffocate him to escape her. “I definitely do not want to hear anything about bullying from you of all people.”

Zeta sheathed his blade and yawned. “Alright, fine. We won’t kill you.”

Terrent hit the ground with a resounding thud as Hera’s ire immediately flashed to her ally. “Are you out of your mind? You want to spare him?”

“Yeah. Gust surrendered. We win. We don’t have to kill him,” said Zeta. Terrent felt as if he should have been relieved, but Zeta’s indifferent tone made him feel insecure about his fate. With a little push, the noose would be around his neck again.

“Okay, in retrospect, let’s pretend I understand the Lilick Brothers. But him? This man is not someone you let walk free.”

“But he asked for mercy.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to grant it to him!” She grew purple from attempting to contain the violence within her. “Let me guess, this ‘Servant of Humanity’ calling of yours?” she said through seething teeth.

He nodded proudly, and she swatted him.

“You killed Crue, arguably the lesser of two evils, but now you want this man alive? Hypocrite.”

“I am not a hypocrite, Hera. Marc had his chance, and he blew it, almost literally. Every man, woman, and child deserves a chance to explain themselves regardless of how horrible the crimes they committed, even…” he trailed off as if he was going to vomit the next words out, “even Magnus Ora.”

“Yes, yes! This man understands! A fair trial. I deserve one in place of the fair duel, don’t you think?”

The glares they shot at him made Terrent imagine his head being cut off right there. Speaking was a terrible idea.

“The Lilick Brothers seized my opportunity. Marc Crue did not. Terrent Gust most likely will. I’m not letting him off the hook,” Zeta said, pointing to the broken scythe. The reminder of that cheap trash’s demise saddened Terrent. “His punishment has already begun, now I just need to finish it.”

Terrent gulped and twitched. “Finish…what, exactly?”

“Your sigmas. Hand them over.”

“Ah, I see. A loss in power for the loss of a duel. Truly, you are a man of chivalry–”

“All of them!”

Terrent returned a blank stare. “Huh?”

Turbine - Air: User creates a great deal of rotating wind force that pulls loose targets towards the source. (2455).

* (A) Requires a Bladed Weapon. The user spins the weapon rapidly in a circle in front of them. When VC is used, the weapon will spin so quickly that it no longer needs to be physically held.

* All targets not anchored to the ground within range will be pulled towards the Turbine.

* Ideally, the blade will “shred” the targets, although it could be merely used to gain proximity.

* (!) Indiscriminate.