Chapter 47

Emblem’s or Arcalyst’s forms had many faces, and it was perfectly normal to see some flaws, drawbacks, or very obvious advantages. Some could even look at wrongs as an advantage. For Luke, his Arcalyst’s gravitational pull was his weapon that affected and took his own weight closely, thus acting up as his strategy. It was true that Luke accepted this as a flawed yet acceptable tool, and his body was like an anchor and powerful physical tool.

It was surprisingly good. He was able to exert great weight over his swings because his body was constantly under stress and waves, and using his body alongside Wavehammer created more power. That pushed his Arcalyst to its limits and cycles to a greater flow.

Flexing the handle of the motionless Wavehammer, he waited for a better opportunity. Jawran crunched the trap of unhinged anger and it crawled out of the water with insanity on its face. That helicopter disappeared from its eyes. The Madness within it found its Thrill.

Darks were mental; their insanity made them crazy and unhinged, but no beast was always a beast, and no demon was always a demon. They attacked without care a lot of times, uncaring for death or their injuries. Some did care for it, however, and took injuries for warnings, power, and caution.

What kind of Dark was this Jawran? In general, as far as humanity wanted, it would be better if all Darks were stupid. Jawrans were not that clever as a whole, though they had incredible flying capabilities and instincts to accommodate a predator. Out in the open field, it might be free to fly, but there were no hidden spots, and its enemies could dodge it much better. Its speed wasn't the greatest. Over an ocean, with who knew how many miles under its wings, its weakness might be glaring or soon to be fatal.

Luke was observing it for the time being, figuring out what kind of Jawran this was, and which weaknesses he should exploit.

The cracked outer layers of its skin were already there on one side of one jaw, so he wanted to hit it again and smash it to a pulp. However, its size was a problem and fitting for its Rank 6. It was no weakling, even if it might not be here for blood or food.

At such a Rank, few Darks were holding glaring weaknesses. It was more about creating them. With a rather humongous body, an enraged Jawran had the intellect of a copper coin. Its side wings can become a hindrance at such moments, because its long body and anger could clash, hindering its flying and fighting capabilities when it couldn't use it all. But it would go on and on and on until it would crash its target. Flaws, or wounds, it didn't care for them.

Luke wished all Jawrans were like that. They should struggle and drown, fail in their persuasion of the air, and fall to their deaths.

However, not all things shall be what they were, or go according to one's wishes.

Luke believed it was following them from New York City for some nefarious deed, though he wasn't entirely convinced about it. After all, just a Jawran and Pterants? Nothing more? Considering how long it took to catch up, they were already deep into the ocean. In New York City, Rank 6 was considered standard, for it was a nestling ground for a lot of Rank 8 Darks. Under some rumors, there were even notes of something else, hiding, waiting, or slumbering through harsher times.

At higher Ranks, Luke couldn't even imagine what sort of thing they could do, eat, or think. He never met anything higher than Rank 7, and while glimpses of Rank 8 from afar were there on some occasions, leaving an impression one shouldn't want to repeat, he rather dreamed of other nightmares. A lot of Walkers were like that, cautious of expectations, and fearful of something they could never be able to do. The reality outside was full of unwelcoming situations,

“No matter. How long is it going to flap its wings like a chicken?” Luke wondered and forgot there were more Darks around. “Well, I am too preoccupied with that Jawran and this Fog is thick and big, suppressing my vision and I can't tell if it is... something. Perhaps some Towers are walking over? Well, let's deal with the small fries first before thinking of something worse.”

As Luke expected, many Pterants were flying around the Dark Fog, waiting, or looking for their chance to attack Luke. But they had to give some attention to Jawran, for it was as a higher Dark, so they had to wait. They flapped their wings and became like bullets going through the Dark Fog, barely making noises.

Then, Jawran growled from below, unleashing high-pitched noise as it opened its jaws wide.

The Dark Fog quivered and Pterants became high-speed bullets, leaving many of their images behind. Luke frowned, realizing that these Darks suddenly became much stronger. He expected them and swung his body and moved his Wavehammer. He smashed a few of them to a pulp in a single motion, before falling and using momentum to dodge others and smashing them with an overhead swing, or side-swing.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Arcalyst could be light and heavy depending on Arcana and control under Walker's System, but the main point was usage. Luke used it as a weapon through and through, and there were many choices one could realize with this kind of style. A weapon could fly on its own if it could, and it could also become heavy and part of the more imminent cycle for Walkers, making every swing matter and modifying.

Luke's was special and his weight and moves could be variable that were impossible to see. Thus, his attack could be quick or slow, powerful like a mountain, or slow to add deliberate angle and push. Quick smacks left echoing noises and depending on the side of the hammer, the outcome was devastating.

His Chop was an uncommon Move because it was both heavy and quick, leaving Booms behind. Every following one would get stronger until Luke would be unable to cope with it. Such reclusive and following patterns were how the magic of Arcana worked, or how arts equipped these hunters.

Luke had to resolve this fight if he wanted to keep his ass floating.

The dumb mistake of fighting over an ocean ended up great. Luke was happy to kill Jawran for the first time since it couldn't unleash its full potential. Why, it didn't matter to him.

“Dumb creature. Became my fuel!”

Luke charged into the Dark Fog and flashes of sounds and powerful swings echoed and left splatters behind. Most Pterans died quickly before Jawran came back. The stupidity that Jawran felt fell short of its rotten life. Unfortunately, it wasn't as if it would even consider it. Its hunts and time were low, rather than anything else. It had its order. Its task. It was just a probe.

He said it.

Its prey wasn't weak. It was obligatory! And gone, mistaken, and overwhelmed by its innate Madness.

Jawran ignored it, so it crashed into the ocean in large tides and went back to the air like an angry beast where its little friends became blood and fuel. It roared with anger, swung its wing, and unleashed hundreds of cutting dark blades in Luke's direction.

The Fog became part of them, or its dark Arcana moved instead. Water splashed and wavered around the ocean when those blades moved and clashed in the darkness against an unlikely force. Becoming splatters under heavy and sharp sounds, Jawran didn't care for every wing swing. It flew onwards and crashed into Luke in mid-swing.

Luke waited, already swinging his Wavehammer at its side, his eyes glowing deep blue, his main arm thick and full of waves. Almost like a doll followed by a puppeteer. Jawran wavered and Dark Fog clustered towards it, adding a layer to its movements, swings, and body. It became like a nightmare, bigger, and bathed in the chaos of this Fog. It consumed as much of it as it could.

“You!” Luke went even faster and stronger, figuring that this Jawran wasn't so simple after all.

Taking the power of the Fog for itself wasn't a regular Aspect that Jawrans usually had. At low Ranks, it was almost unheard of. In the middle ones, it was stable and difficult, yet very potent. At upper ones... well, there was almost nothing that Luke could say about it without cursing and sweating.

Jawran swung its dark-covered wing at him, which looked like a massive blade that could swallow him whole. Luke swung his body, flexed his arm, and moved. Dark Fog scattered under a wild clash of one huge Boom, leaving hundreds of feet around them without any Fog when the third Boom clashed against it. It will take some time for it to return since Jawran was flustered in its swings and backed hundreds of feet away.

Luke remained in space, coughing up blood. “Shit... I shouldn't have remained in the Spot.”

In almost no time, Jawran crawled to the Fog and pushed forward, flying at him even with a rather damaged wing.

“Oh... this wing? An advantage!” Luke was surprised that his Wavehammer had come this far. He should put more weight into it next.

Flapping its wings left dark blood raining, and Jawran's speed was noticeably slower, but its weight was still there and its Madness was deafening. Luke huffed a deep breath, bringing the deepest cycle he could manage. He clashed at its wings or jaws dozens of times, making more Booms, looking for a way to crack its head.

That went on until Dark Fog returned and a chance arrived.

Jawran wanted its Bliss back, so it started to eat up the Dark Fog, or was it the other way around? What if the Fog influenced them instead? Luke became suspicious that he overlooked something, but when a chance came, he pushed his Wavehammer forward even more.

He flipped the edge to the other side that held a spike akin to pickaxes. Wavehammer had faces. One was blunt while the other had a singular spike that could become bigger if necessary. Luke always expanded or influenced the one side at a time. It caused better aerodynamics and greater Moves. Both sides had the same wave pattern, though one was definitely sharper.

That described the basics for most Arcalysts, as they held rules that were harder to change. Walkers had to be throughout if they wanted to change their faces or use what might be appropriate.

Arcana could change, but Arcalyst was part of Arcana, and no matter if the stubbornness of the face was hard to see, or control was lacking, Walkers had to adapt or force it. Luke's wish was simple. Nothing distant. Nothing big. A simple creation not far from the reasonable weapons was his preference. That was something that his Arcalyst liked, so he ended up following it by creating numerous weapons.

Jawran picked its speed in a few seconds and decided to smash this fool with its empowered clutched beak. It was like a massive tree trunk, not that sharp, or quick. It went forward, unleashing blinding killing intent and waves of Dark Fog that pushed into Luke like a tide of a massive drill.

He wavered, pushing his waves and Wavehammer at it, and defended. Then, he saw its deadly eyes above its massive jaws.

“Expand!”

An explosion rang. Booms ceased.

Blinding light crashed the darkness when the Final Boom echoed.

“Thunderspike!”