The tensity of the situation doesn't move under William's skin. Rozzante feels different, however. He is serious since this situation feels closer to how he grew up than he is willing to admit. In an environment that is Outside, and not small, he saw enough sights of this caliber. Complex. That has been life in Europe, with notable sights of cities and countless destroyed communities.
Dark spread everywhere, corrupting the land and senses alike. Not many people can survive out there alone. Not without Walker's protection.
William has his share of that, but his opinion is different. He stands on the street of the past, thinking he isn't in any dangerous place.
It is odd. He feels no fear, even though he knows the dangers are around him, closing or hiding.
He always had this itch of fear around such cities in the past. He feared the dangers when he was alone, but that isn't his problem any longer. His power comforts him, and Emblem provides power he previously couldn't move. He lacks no punch, or protection, and finally approaches the messes that have always been a huge mental headache for as long as he can remember.
As an Outsider, his opinion and life in the apocalypse may or may not differ from someone who lived in a different kind of light and continent. Lands vary, similar to how the present humanity survived in this world. One can even call them absurd, firm, and dangerous choices. Those are also his experiences. He wants to kill them. The ones that hunted for his life, most likely killed his parents and caused the loneliness that he had to change himself.
Without his parents, he had nothing. Nobody. He had to reshape his life at 5 years of age. Expecting something good out of that small number isn't sensible. Nothing at that age in this world is.
The inhuman sounds grow louder, before halting around the far buildings. Wind gathers. Eerie silence remains, while the cold wind clutters and swings around their heads. Rozzante glances around, thinking that William must have his share of the world too, but this is a place where strength has to stand. No weakling would ever manage to survive this long in this world.
“So a Canada, hm? I saw... a lot of shit Outside, but never been there. In fact, where are we? Seems to me like some kind of city from the United States. The climate seems dry.” Rozzante guesses.
“No idea why knowing that should matter,” William says and keeps his outlook on Velvet Eyes to himself and the surroundings. He hardly sees anything. No life. There is not much but a steady feeling of seeing the surroundings. His mind knows there are living things nearby, but he can't see them. Ears don't pick on anything but those noises that sound from time to time. He has never been good at figuring out things in the middle of nowhere.
He grew up thinking of the situation and the surroundings first, before moving on. Knowing the dangers are every corner helps with that, so it is no wonder a whole lot of Outsiders think before acting. But not everyone is like that.
Velvet Eyes doesn't provide him with some ridiculous abilities. It is a simple physical-based Skill that enchants his eyesight, and reflexes. It can be more than that, but he has yet to uncover any kind of information about it, nor additional skills he has. Some are his own, so no one but he will uncover their potential, and information, but some are universal to the Vector Walkers. Inner Enchantment is that. Touch of Vectors too.
“True.“ Rozzante agrees. “Well, for myself, I am quite far in knowing things, but not so much to be the greatest. Life Outside is tough as it can be. We talked about it yesterday, you remember? There are some places in the world untouched by the Dark. I grew up around some and that's about it. The military has been part of that. I was born a Walker, so a lot of people had a whole lot of expectations put on me. No idea why. Young and clueless, we have no idea about our worth before the Emblem does its justice. Weird, isn't it?”
“Weird? Seems normal to me.” William turns at him and argues with a light chuckle before pointing to his right forearm. “It is funny to me. These things are already part of our lives from birth, and the world expects us to save it. That is weird.”
“World, or us?”
“Everything. You keep talking so little about it. Like yesterday. Can't you be more specific? I heard European regions are more or less barren wasteland since they aren't that big in mass, and resources. All of this meant trouble keeping up with the Dark Tides and Hordes. Most former countries are full of Darks, rendering the soil corrupted because the land hasn't been so stretched.” Willaim says what he learned long ago, but is it the truth? He hasn't been to Europe, yet he talks as if he speaks the truth.
It isn't that appropriate, and it is William's past that is voicing this like that, rather than common and open sense. It is a bias and knowledge he heard when he grew up Outside the Canadian borders. Most people like to think they have it better than others. It is a positivity that raises some chances and opportunities. Camps or people in North America that survived for a century, think they have it better than others even though it isn't correct.
There are better places and worse places.
There is nothing good or wrong about it. It is just a matter of opinion that matters and Rozzante and William will grow up from new changes.
Rozzante looks at him in the eyes, noticing the weird velvet hue in them, which he dismisses. He is serious, and the previous howls in the surroundings put his mood in no place for such discussions.
“Do you think this is the right time to speak nostalgic about yesterday, or even talk about it? I came here to become a great Walker since the European regions have no resources to properly care for walkers of my caliber. I was quite lucky to have some talent in these little things,” he smacks his chest to make a point. “..but it's more about the lack of choices than anything else. One has to grow on top to seek the beyond. That is a saying of an old man I saw a few times. A Walker, you see? A Hunter since 13. Hunting out there is not desirable, trust me on this one.” Rozzante argues, shutting William up to talk about this any longer.
He doesn't even point out anything wrong with it and doesn't speak more about what hunting suggests.
William has his hunch of it, since he heard of them, but met few. In Canadian borders, the rogue Walkers are rare.
Rozzante looks at his face, noticing understanding and a change of heart. It is time to get serious and William knows it.
“So a Mutant, am I right?”
“Annihilation, am I wrong?”
Both boys look at each other: Rozzante on his arm, and William not knowing where. There is no indication of Mutant Type since William hardly read anything about them in the library. They are rare, and weird, with a cluster of powers, and features out of the norm. Everything that isn't suitable to call Elemental type or Vector type, is called Mutant, which means a whole lot of things that William has no idea about.
But he wants to know it. He should know it. He needs it.
Unknown to them, they are being watched by not only pairs of human eyes, but a mixture of Darks are there. In the dark corner, a series of eyes follow them behind. A hunt has started, unbeknownst to them.
“Hm?” Rozzanta clenches his head aside, finding something strange, or sensing something dangerous. “Have you sensed that?”
“What?” William cocks his head behind and looks where he is looking, but can't see a thing. Rozzante mentions sense, so it isn't up to the eyes to see.
Behind him is just a barren street with some residual skeleton of cars, that lacks any color. It is just scraps of metal, with debris around them makes it seem like a weird art piece. There are many stones, and concrete blocks scattered through the surroundings. Possibly from the destroyed buildings of many stories that went through unknown history.
“I think we are walking way too open and comfortable. Do you think we can work as a team against a minor Dark Horde?” Rozzante asks, not being sure what this trial entails.
He is right to be like this. Agatha hasn't mentioned much about the dangers, and what they will meet. It is for the better vision of the trial, and it is up to them to adjust to the sudden changes that may be dangerous, or easy. William has no idea what this city is like, or what it hides. He just feels weird regarding the lack of sound.
“Horde? Do you think they would let us fight such a thing? They would butcher us in no time.” William argues, knowing that the minor horde is enough to cause trouble for Rank 4 Walkers, and even some at Rank 5. Dark Hordes are effective clusters of low-rank Darks, with ranks ranging from 1 to 4. Minor one speaks of dozens of them, and no Alpha member is among them. It is in the medium or great horde that things are getting nasty.
But for them, the minor one speaks of brutality already. William would try to fight, but if one meets a deadly situation, it is a much better idea to flee instead. That is a part of this trial as well, or so he believes. It isn't cowardly if one's life will remain. That is a lesson he knows.
“Though, why not try it? In fact, there should be protection around us. Butlers, or some... folks. I don't know. I haven't fought the Darks before, so if you think I am weird about willing to fight those suckers, then laugh at my face.” William says back, appearing quite relaxed in this bright and utterly silent city.
Rozzanta couldn't fault this logic at the moment. He sort of accepts this new idea that he may follow too, but it is too soon for that. He also has the power to follow his future, but it is new and hard to acknowledge such steep changes. He nods, and they walk through the northern part of the city.
That goes on until a sudden roar cleaves the silence of this city, traveling for miles.
It is inhuman, sounding like the growl of a monster that protects its territory, or fights a powerful foe. Such roar goes miles away, around the corners and the silence of this city makes it hard to point out where it comes from.
“It seems someone is having fun?” William says behind Rozzante who stops walking and tries to guess where it comes from.
Right at this moment, as Rozzante is caring about this unnecessary trouble, William notices a movement at the corner of the Velvet Eyes. A shadow at first, but a movement nonetheless. A monster emerges from the shadowy corner, and a thin layer of dark fog spreads around the ground. An indistinct body swiftly travels around the corner and the darkness crawls around it. Only 15 or so feet from William, a Dark is there to eat their Emblems out of their bloody cold bodies, or still breathing ones.
“Swifter!” he shouts, but before having a choice to do anything, the monster that resembles an overgrown lizard with a slim body, but thick limbs, is right there before his eyes. It growls in a gnarly manner, revealing many fangs in its lizardly jaw that is unlike Hellgar's. This one is slimmer in body and mass, with no wideness to its jaw, but it looks menacing and deadly. Above the jaw are a pair of 4 eyes, watching the prey in its hunt.
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It has a human-like resemblance to its limb. A pair of thick legs supports its speed, and 2 arms at the front make the motions quicker. It hunches and curves its back, and runs on all fours. A tail behind its back swirls like a whip, slashing at the ground, leaving deep cuts. It resembles an overgrown lizard, with dark and foggy skin that has many layers of thin scales. Fog surrounds its limbs, corrupting its body and attacks. Its posture is that of a beast, but its hand has slim clawed fingers that are sharp and long.
In this moment of surprise, Swifter swipes his claw diagonally to William's face, who dodges it by strands of his hair. He curves his back in time and faces the creature that growls at his face. His eyes watch it in velvet light, noticing the beast so close, the flashes of the past go right behind. Memories of old, when the beast cracked the skulls of men or women, flooding the ground in blood, and screams echo far. William almost breaks into a sweat, recollecting those times in the dark light of his heart.
Those are nasty memories and the cause is right before his eyes. Darks.
Bloody fuckers that caused it all.
From the brief hesitation that enters his head, William swiftly changes his mind as quickly as Swifter appears. He goes through a quick notable features according to his newly found knowledge from the library. Anger Swifter: a type of a Swifter with wilder appearance, longer and thicker neck and tail. It rages endlessly and pounces forward to end the hunt as efficiently as possible.
Through these couple of seconds of delay and dodge, William survives the next claw attack by tucking his head down, dodging a swing of a tail that destroys a chunk of a wall afterward. It is enough of a delay for Rozzante to make a quick flying kick, ending Swifter's advance, right to his head.
It stumbles back, staggering because of unsteady grounds, but more so because of its uneven legs. Rozzante's kick also carries some strength, and its height and mass are no bigger than his.
Swifters are usually up to 5 feet in height, but because of their hunched and crawling nature and walking on all fours, they aren't as tall.
“I told you, William. Careful. We aren't on a walk!” Rozzante shouts at him after landing on his legs.
“Yea. Yea. But we are Walkers.” William scratches his head, embarrassed but appearing fine in his eyes. In truth, he dodged those attacks fine, but he was inclined to experiment if he would take those hits well or not. He is glad that he took the hint of dangers in his head since those attacks would definitely crack and damage his body.
A lot can matter in a split second of hesitation, so was this considered a dangerous thought? He wonders, but can't fault him. He is curious in defense and offense alike. He can't seem to choose what is better. He is only glad his Velvet Eyes gifts good light to the opponent, and something deep and cluttering goes in his head.
He isn't sure what that is, but the tension rising in his right hand causes him to grunt. He glances at his Emble, noticing quick cycling Vectors around his Emblem. It seems alive, and ready to gnaw at this Swifter.
“Deal with this lizard if you are so confident about it. I will watch your back.” Rozzante says, crossing his arms like some kind of boss.
William doesn't mind it. He feels he has no choice since it's his fault to endure this ambush out of nowhere. This little time provides a great indication of a change of attitude, strength, and change in his head. He does the simplest thing he can do. He tosses his bag beside the wall and the suitcase goes to Rozzante.
“Arise,” He mumbles.
An explosion from his wide-open Emblem reveals a gushing flow of Vectors, that takes the appearance of a ferocious Vector Claw that can clutch Swifter's whole head.
“You will be my first kill as proper Walker, but not like it matters though, lizard,” William says, pointing his claw towards Swifter, who adjusts its limbs, and fog clutters around its body. It readies itself for another attack, hissing forth and bearing its teeth at its prey.
It growls in displeasure, which is caused by its failed ambush. It appears it is angry that the prey plays with its hunt since they both could finish it off in its momentary weakness. Darks don't like failure, or being at a disadvantage.
Swifter screams in terror, veins pop through its arms, contouring few scales, and its body snaps in many parts. It grows a couple of inches, and the fog from outside reaches inside, changing its muscular tone to a darker color, pronounced mass, and density. Scales also changed shape, from thin and flat, to a more prominent protruding shape in some sections of its body: the forearm, chest, and shoulders.
“Look, you pissed it off!” Rozzante comments behind William's back. “Solve it.”
“Couldn't notice it. Thanks.” William mumbles and readies his claw to take this Dark head-on.
Swifter pounces much faster than before, using the legs as a pivotal key to its speed. Its legs spear the ground, and each clawed finger points right toward William's chest. He swings his Vector Claw, deflecting both arms by twisting his elbow to his left, and causing Swifter's mass to go into his arm. It is heavy, but William somehow manages to keep his feet on the ground and let the Swifter fall behind his back. It causes William to struggle in a couple of steps, but his Claw takes it better than his body.
Unphased, the Swifter doesn't glance at Rozzante. Perhaps in the hope of its hunt or something that follows the single prey before the next one.
Without a change of pace, Swifter's claw on all limbs makes its movements and stability much fiercer. It spins, using the claws in the ground as a help. The ground is a mix of old cracked concrete, which is still sturdy enough for this sort of damage. It adds stability to its move, and by using its claws to propel itself much faster, it is a perfect start for heavy attack.
This time, it attacks with its jaw, wanting to bite at its prey.
It is too bad since William makes a swift judgment and sees it from miles away. With already activated Velvet Eyes, he watches this Dark with utmost calmness that reaps of indifference, even though his Emblem rushes blood through his veins, and his heart beats like crazy. He doesn't sweat, but his mind has never been calmer. It is odd, but he feels it is only fitting to kill this monster in cold blood. He doesn't prefer it, however. It happens on its own.
Forming not a fist, but pointing a single finger claw forward, he makes a swift forward motion that is going straight towards its mouth.
Weird sounds echo next, with gnarly sounds of inhuman growls from the Swirfter, moist clutter, and piercing heavy blow. Blood flows and splatters as William's single-finger claw penetrates its whole skull, causing blood and brain fluid to scatter around the ground and himself. It is dead in a mere moment, and Vectors takes some of this blood for itself.
“Shit... I didn't expect that!” William complains, grimacing and having quite some blood on his clothes, which he doesn't prefer, and his arm alike. His arm has been almost eaten alive, and the only reason it wasn't, has been his quick decision-making and high enough reach of his Vector Claw.
Vectors are deep and firm enough to cause Swifter's teeth not to penetrate his flesh. It gnawed at him at this heavy attack, and its pounce caused William to stumble away. He was like a wall, which Swifter gladly took for a meal. It failed when William made the wall, his finger, using it as an advantage to pierce Swirfter by its momentum.
William is glad for that, and also his decision to take it head-on. The attack swept through the whole skull, and the aftermath is a nasty sight.
Swifter's body, along with William stumbles to the ground, and he has trouble getting it off: his claw or the Dark.
The Swifter also tried to attack with its arms, but those had small reach to wound William, who countered with the unhinged move and killed it before the frontal libs attacked him next.
Rozzante whistles, amazed by his efficiency caused by his standards. William indeed makes quick work of this Swifter, which is at the higher end of Rank 1.
“Well... Let's see what's deal with the Vials next, am I right?” William says, forcing his Claw out of the Swirfter's head, which causes more blood to splatter to his face. He curses all the Darks in the world and doesn't care that some of the blood ends up going into his Vectors. He doesn't pay it much attention. Instead, he picks up the suitcase, after Rozzante argues that his prey are his results.
So he goes to the Swifter's remains. From what Agatha mentioned regarding the use of the suitcase, which has a simple name: Vial Extractor v3.5, he almost laughed at that name. He will call it an Extractor instead.
Forgetting the unnecessarily dumb name, using it is easy and simple to understand.
All he has to do is pick up the syringe and insert it into its neck, chest, or arms. Then, he will activate a mechanism within the suitcase which will draw the blood to the Extractor.
Rozzante glances at his action, observing this for not the first time as William does. He inserts the syringe into its chest and presses a button in the corner of the suitcase. It makes some noise, and it even shakes, but the slow rise of the blood, coming from the syringe through the tube, is visible. It goes to the suitcase at low speed, and the blood itself has a darker hue than humans. William is speechless since he has always seen more human blood than theirs.
“How long is this supposed to last?” William asks, uncertain of the answer, or not remembering it.
“Minutes to more minutes,” Rozzante answers, crouching beside him and explaining what he knows to silant William. “Butler A said something I haven't known before, but I don't recall this thing in specific. It is new, but I've seen similar things before, you see? Not such suitcases, but more simple vessels. Bottles of metallic tubes, or specialized boxes. The syringe is used the same in them though. One shouldn't just scoop the blood up. It wouldn't end up great. The Rank of the Dark then makes the flow slow or quicker. This one goes slow until the syringe can't get any drops through the tube. It is thicker, you see?” he adds, and points at the moving blood and Swifter's corpse that shivers even though its body is long dead.
William nods in silence and doesn't ask more questions about why Rozzante knows about these extractions. Don't they involve Vials? Hadn't the youth been so excited about Louise, and how he talked to them about them jsut a day before? That is weird, but William doesn't question it that much.
He looks at his first kill in tandem with the Via Extraction. Right... He should be glad. It's his first kill, yet he doesn't really feel anything apart from disgust at the splattered blood on his face. He killed it in cold blood, while he doesn't feel particularly happy about it or anything. In fact, he feels kind of indifferent to this thing, that is lying dead. Its head is almost gone from its body. However, William knows this sort of Dark is weak. They can form Dark Tides and Hordes, which will then become much more fearsome.
But alone? The Swifter isn't much threat, and even guns are effective at piercing its skin.
“Begone,” William mutters so he preserves more strength for the future foes. In a little while, the blood disappears from the corpse, and extraction is over.
“Not even 90 seconds? What about the Vial?” Rozzante comments, looking closer into the suitcase.
Inside, at the left portion, he sees small droplets going into the 1st of the 10 Vials through some thin tubes. A lot of noises also growls out of the Extractor. “Hm? I expected something like this coming from Rank 1. It's about 5% full, and it is... little? 20 more kills, and it is done... hm? That doesn't seem right.” he frowns.
“That's nothing problematic. It is more than I thought.” William assumes nothing and retrieves the syringe back to the right portion of the Extractor. “Considering how easy was it to deal with the Swirfter, I will take them all out.” He adds for the sake of Rozzante's bothersome look.
He agrees with his remark, but considering the Vials, they need 100s of these Swifters to accomplish this task in 2 days. That sounds like a pain in the ass in his honest, yet humble opinion. Still, both youths have no choice, but to look for more Darks from this moment on and carry on their hunt and trial. Rozzante hides some surprise, but he keeps it to himself.
“Sorry for the previous problems. I will be more serious.” William says, feeling calm even though something weird goes through his Emblem. It seems more active, and wild. His arm even itches but he doesn't mention it to him. But something bothers him. Something deep that is yet to crawl to the top of his head.
“Don't mind it.” Rozzante dissmisses his remark. “You have your strength, while I have mine. Let me show you my power in the next round, and while we are at this, let's have you watch my back. I will take care of the front if we meet more Darks.” he suggests, making William comply since it sounds reasonable to pay attention to this teamplay.
This city is full of opportunities for ambushes, and neither of them is sure to see what's around the corner, or in the depths of the fog surrounding many parts of this city.
***
In the south, this part of the city is under the watchful sight of Sharie and the lackluster opinion of Celleste, who still prefers to ignore her partner. Sharie is the one who has the suitcase, while Celleste walks with her hands in her pockets, unbothered by her talking, remarks, or complaints.
“Listen. How many times you will ignore me? I mean no harm, really.” Sharie says behind her back, observing her, as well as the surroundings. They already met some Swifters too, but Celleste solved them as quickly as they appeared, slashing them to pieces, which ended up letting a lot of blood go to waste. She doesn't seem to mind that, nor does she want to hear Sharie's complaints.
“This isn't some game,” Celleste replies, not even looking behind her back. “An extermination. That is what it is.”
“I am not saying it is a game,” Sharie complains, being the one to make due extracting from pieces of Swifters that end up forming only 10% of the 1st Vial. For some reason, Celleste tends to cleave them apart, making their blood flow to the ground which sabotages the extraction. With 10%, she could tell Celleste wasted at least 30% worth of Swifter's blood.
“What I am saying is, you should attack more carefully. You are wasting this blood that is precious for us, Walkers.”
“I don't like blood...” Celleste argues, and this time turns, frowning at Sharie “But I guess I am due to be better than that, am I right?”