Arson was strong for his age. Incredibly strong in fact. With only one real exception.
His massive regenerative abilities were completely dependent on external mana, or energies. To his surprise, conductive waters worked on enemy Cultivators and managed to steal mana with every landed blow.
Problem was, there were more enemies than he could reasonably shoot without his next option being either to flee… or die. He may have been nice by incapacitating the Wretches he came in contact with, but the same would most likely not be reciprocated.
“No chance of us talking this out then?” More than two dozen Wretches charged him at once, the entire groups yells hit him at once as they pushed forward.
“Didn’t think so…”
Arson tried to run but only managed to make it around the side of a shed like structure affixed to the rooftop. He was flanked to either side, and ended up being forced to blind fire his conductive water orbs. Each lobbed projectile was followed by screams.
Arson was surprised that none of the many Cultivators that managed to make it onto the roof hadn’t decided to rush him from multiple angles. He peeked his head out, only to immediately be fired on with different mana-based attacks. A chunk was blown off the structure he hid behind, and he realized he didn’t have time to stay inactive.
“You don’t seem to be doing very well in this situation, would you like some help?” Anastasia’s voice buzzed through the silence that overtook the roof. Arson shook his head, and peeked his head around the corner while he charged three compressed orbs in his palm.
This was a terrible idea, as it only increased how much of a threat the nearby Wretches considered him to be. Rubble rained down around him as more of the shed was blasted apart.
“If you would have warned me, I wouldn’t be in this situation, I’d rather give you back to my mom than let you feel comfortable with throwing away my life,” said Arson as he lobbed more orbs overhead.
“I’m sad you feel so distrustful of me, I’m probably your most loyal confidant,” said Anastasia.
“You’re a cracked piece of sparking software that my mother warned me about, and now I truly regret not listening to her. Should have known your sweet words were fluff and dynamite,” screamed Arson over the roar of the explosions around him. The Wretches had given up on an end to this encounter when he tried to escape, and committed to a more… immediate end.
Arson would have flown away, but had long lacked the mana to successfully escape, and be able to get back with the other members that had followed him further into the depths of the city.
The first wave of Wretches failed to make it close, but Arson soon ran out of mana entirely. He felt his heart skip a beat as there didn’t seem to be an end to the number of people that tried to flood the roof.
He prepared himself in the moment between his last conductive water orb, and his foes’ realization that he was finally spent.
“Where the sparks are all my people, you demon!” A girl ran out of the door flanked by a dozen or more Cultivators, and Arson’s head spun at how many opponents surrounded him in that moment.
“Who, me? I didn’t do anything,” said Arson as he pointed at himself. The deep voice vibrated the roof slightly, and the group got ready for battle, and Arson smiled to himself.
“Where are all my people!”
“Your people? Would that make you Micro then? You should work on your security, my AI seems to think it was laughable at best,” replied Arson.
“First person to bring me his head gets a promotion!” Arson had apparently no way of communication with the leader of the Wretches, and wondered if he should have retreated long ago.
He was charged by three or four at once, and his martial skills proved to be a boon he would never again complain about. Arson continued to incapacitate his opponents, but that only seemed to further anger those around him.
Then the fireball came and Arson was thrown off his feet for the first time. Then he managed to receive more blows than he could count before he was able to stand, as the many around him stomped down recklessly.
He couldn’t help but grow angry, and more of the Wretches were knocked out or broken in ways that left them unable to fight when Arson retaliated.
Arson held hope that he would make it out of the situation without true harm, only for things to change rapidly.
The amount of elemental attacks that came in his direction far eclipsed what he was able to dodge, parry, or even absorb. He rolled end over end to one side of the roof, and was surrounded before he could get to his feet. The beatdown they gave Arson was an experience that hit far too close to a past trauma. An adoption gone wrong, where his new mother used her fist to communicate. Arson ran back to the orphanage enough times that they gave up on the adoption.
Where the beatings came to an end when his mother got bored, the gang with missing members held a much higher threshold for violence.
Luckily they didn’t seem to be able to break his alloy lined bones, but still managed to dislocate and misalign them easily. In the end it was probably Arson’s own poison-filled body that did more damage to himself , as his softer muscles collided and ripped on contact with his bones. He began to bleed internally, which quickly made it harder to breathe and stay conscious.
Arson could even feel the light within his soul realm dim. Even more strange he felt himself lose stat points, as if his body traded them for the energy to stay awake and even alive.
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They beat him blue and purple, and he thought about opening his cowl or mask to the energy that he was still being struck with, but his mind couldn’t remember the function in the haze brought on by the repeated blows.
The pain made him miss the feeling of the sun on his face. The pain brought on deeper traumas that always flowed to the surface when he was near to death. He heard the buzz begin in his ears.
Like the endless hum of bees before they stung.
His mind drifted into a dark place. The core of his soul was a void, far unlike the exterior that shone with the reflection of all his knowledge and connections.
This place held his fears. His fears of death and so much more that he was truly unaware of.
A dark voice spoke to him. Told him about his failures. Told him about all his shortcomings and how they were the direct root to his current predicament. Arson couldn’t help but bathe in the dark sensations, as he didn’t want to feel the pain being delivered upon his body.
He felt the poison of the darkness writhe to life, and make him want to gag as if he couldn’t contain it. His mother had warned him that his emotions could potentially bring on a rejection of a poison, but Arson managed to force down the sensations both mentally and physically.
After a while he felt his prone figure being carried an incredible distance. He thought he felt the same sensation he’d felt when Khalif had watched him earlier, but soon lost the impression as the group took him deeper.
Eventually they arrived in an area with a massive hole at the center of it that reminded Arson of the holes at the dump. His mother had told him never to go near the holes at night and Arson had wondered why, and now was curious to know if the dump also had its holes surrounded in green flames at night?
He was barely able to open an eyelid as the group broke off from the larger mass of Wretches and took Arson toward the hole. He only then realized they were going to throw him in as they spoke about it.
Arson tried to cry out. For Khalif, Troy, Anyone. His mother came to mind and tears filled Arson’s eyes.
He was disappointed in himself. He’d thought he would have been able to take down far more orphans, and maybe even most of the higher ups of the Wretches, and would instead die because of his own hubris.
Arson gave into his darkest emotions in that moment. The exact same moment that the group that held him overhead, crested the lit section that rimmed the hole.
What Arson had thought to be synthetic light, was in fact, moonlight. The energy reflected by the moon and stars filled the hole that led all the way to the surface and sky above.
Mana filled his body in a rush and a pulse of energy went out from his center. Arson roared and roared as his bones snapped back into place. The group froze as Arson’s rapid recovery was triggered.
“What are you idiots doing? Throw him!” They obeyed and Arson was thrown over the flame, and into the air above the black hole below. His eyes opened finally as he neared the center of the hole, and Arson fell.
His body filled further with fuel as he fell deeper, still touched by the moonlight and stars above. His roars could be heard from the depths of a hole that he would not perish in. He rose and flew out the center of the hole and barely missed the various elemental attacks the Wretches were capable of.
He spun through the flurry of attacks with a grace in the air he was not normally capable of. His focus had been distorted by his rage, and he stopped in the air above the Wretches and took the whole group in at once.
Power thrummed wildly through his veins and Arson had more targets than he could count in a single breath. None of which he had any pity for.
He didn’t want to live in a land where the strong ruled with strength alone. Nor did he any longer believe that he could change the ways of the people around him in a single night.
Cultivators spoke in power, and Arson lacked many prominent characteristics of the divine in his own mind, but excess power was not something he’d believed he’d ever live without.
How wrong he had been. This would be his primary focus if he managed to escape this situation alive, but he couldn’t leave without Khalif and the others. So he decided to fight until his last breath to reach his own friends, Wretches be sparked.
He was awake now, but it was a piece of himself that he hated. The piece of himself that respected the power of flame. The piece of himself that respected the man he was named after. Arson Malicious, First King of the Skies.
The stars in his eyes swirled and Arson poured everything he had into the various energies as they shot forward from his face. Different colors could be seen as the volatile elements separated and affected those struck.
Some were frozen, electrified, or scorched. Others seemed poisoned, or disappeared entirely. Arson’s full spectrum of poisons and his naturally attuned affinities could be seen at work.
Arson grew angrier when he was again faced with an outpour of Wretches that once more full on charged him without a care for their own lives. He’d been merciful before, but now the voice in the back of his mind whispered in a language drowned in carnage and malice.
They weren’t up against the same Arson that wouldn’t run when the odds were against him, they were up against the Arson that would now take any advantage he thought he had to succeed.
He summoned the giant sun-like orb he’d still needed to complete. Its tendrils immediately began to fight against the Cultivators.
Arson didn’t let up as his newly constructed skill drained attacks from the air and slammed foes into one another.
He’d also forgone the use of condensed conductive water orbs, and returned to the full sized projectiles. As well as overcharged dual casts.
“Flank em, you sparking fools!” The maneuver was valiantly attempted by the Wretches, but failed under the stress of his skills area of effect. It moved around Arson as if to control any foe that dare leave his line of sight with a body slam, or redirected elemental cast.
Arson took full advantage and shot any and every effected enemy. He still roared and he hadn’t even noticed but his mask was on and his crown was out. He no longer cared, he only wanted to survive, and go home to eat with his mother. He at first wanted to talk things out with them but then changed his mind after the situation escalated so rapidly.
He opened the portal device that led to the apartment building and let his skill throw the Wretches in by the dozens. It was then that Micro began to panic and scream at Arson in protest.
“What do you want?! Let them go!”
“I gave you a chance. I asked you to stop working for Mr. Kim, he doesn’t support the orphans. You didn’t listen, or care to listen, so now, I drown your guild in their sleep. Can’t be worse than whatever Mr. Kim would do, right? Not like he doesn’t already underpay you and keep you in Old Town, sparking brat,” said Arson. He had no ill intention toward the Wretches, but he was so mad he’d at least thought about the end of the entire orphan guild twice already that night.
“Stop! We can work this out. How were we supposed to know you’d attack us if we didn’t listen? Not even Mr. Kim has threatened our lives so directly. Don’t get me wrong I know who I work for and why, but your measures seem extreme for a kid your age,” said Micro.
Arson laughed, and stared her down for a moment before he responded.
“I’m almost 8 season cycles old, and I was raised in the streets of the city you call your home, why would I be any less accustomed to violence and murder,” lied Arson. He’d stayed away from the street life and kept his head in books as much as possible. He, of course, tried to learn to fight as most young potential Cultivators did before they gained a core, but hadn’t made strides until the dump, and being trained by Jade and the olympian armors..
“Most kids your age can’t even hold an assassin’s blade correctly, and even though you have my Wretches in your clutches, I can’t sense an ounce of killing intent on you. I bet you planned on ransoming their lives,” said Micro. Arson was glad that his mask didn’t betray his surprised features, and growled. He couldn’t let this girl know a thing, even if she seemed to have him figured out.
“None of you are taking me seriously, that’s fine, but for how long can you all keep it up, we find and turn your spies so fast it’s almost a joke, our methods are better, and even more, we push our cultivators to the limit, not hide them underground,” said Arson.
“Were you for real when you offered benefits,” asked Micro. Arson couldn’t help but pull down both his mask and cowl at her question. His confusion and shock at the turn of events had reached its peak. He wondered momentarily if the girl was crazy, then realized that most people probably saw him as crazy. It was natural to be more than eccentric in the NationCity of Maelstrom.
“Yeah, why…?” responded Arson carefully. He didn’t know what to expect next from the young gang leader.
Micro looked back at the Wretches behind her and laughed. Then she showed her mangled teeth, and the state of dental care amongst many of the other Wretches with a point, and Arson understood why she’d asked.
“We have a lot more than just dental,” said Arson as he looked around. It wasn’t a lie either. He’d had many of the Bookish begin to study practical skills that they would need to thrive without external assistance, and found that mostly medical and food cultivation needs were primary for success in a venture as large as Arson planned for.
Jasmine didn’t let a single person go unclothed, and Rob didn’t let a single person go unfed. They made their guild members work for it, but that was only because Arson told them to.
“Where do I sign up?” said one of the Wretches as he climbed out of the portal apartment still on the ground nearby. Micro looked at the young man then Arson. She smiled and shrugged.
“Me first.”