Smoke: an elementary substance. It blanketed everything. The mysterious undulating cloud obscured the world from Jon and him from it.

As they exited the Rift, it engulfed he and Kay; embracing friend and foe alike. Smoke was also a selective mistress taking some sights and leaving others; the vision she left untouched was the light of heat. He saw the bodies, still warm, strewn across the floor, the sensors gave the cavernous, and newly roofless room, dimensions as well.

Security came first. “Hoisting the shields.” Plasma lugs were bolted to the handles, and he sought them out in his second sight. There you are my pretties. And like glowing stars in the abyss, his sense gravitated toward them.

With intention and practised measure, his shield lost all weight, a feather on his arm. That was not enough; he let go, and it floated in place. Repeating the process Kay’s shield floated free moments later.

“‘Tis aloft.” She whispered. He knew, of course, finding the plasma, and hence the shield, was easy. Finding Kay, on the other hand, was harder.

Yes, the sensors saw her, but Jon had recently developed another means. His diffusive aura spread like the smoke they bathed in, broad and inconsequential easy to pervade but sensitive, very sensitive.

He could not ‘see’ Kay with his aura per se, but he readily felt where it was not and where he could not go. She was a shadow in his sense, a blank no-mans-land, and he knew her void intimately.

From hours of meditation together the shape and movement of her aura reminded him of a globular yoyo. It stuck to her uniformly, but she could extend a mass of it out at will.

She waded through his with ease as she threw her sense about, and he felt it as if his was a magical analogue of the smoke that enveloped them, her movement convected his aura about whichever way she went.

He did not need to extend his exotic sense, the usual extent alone covered a good ten metres diminishing toward the edges. Kay was well within that.

The exception to her boisterous aura was his body, and his element: the state of plasma was his domain. She could pass through or around it, but if he chose to imbue the solar fire, then she could do nothing but watch.

They had tried preventing imbuement, blocking another’s approach and the like. However, auras, although similar in a perceptive sense, did not work like physical things. The mind interpreted it as physical space being inhabited, but in reality, it was more like wireless communication.

The transmission was directed, and stuff on the same wavelength lit up when hit, the interference of other signals was only a secondary byproduct—an extremely beneficial byproduct for a weak and ephemeral mage like Jon. It allowed him to keep the shield near Kay and move with her, just as he did with his. I’m fucking Merlin with an AK.

It took a fair bit of practice, and focus, to float the shields and keep them positioned. The tactical benefits, in exchange, were immense. Extra floating hands meant Jon and Kay could hold rifle and bow respectively while moving with mobile cover.

On the other side of the hall, booms from Ril’s Deagles shattered the deathly silence as she gleefully engaged with wanton abandon. She literally went in guns blazing; unhinged cackles followed between blasts.

Jon shook his head and gave a sub-vocal grunt, returning to their task. They were all geared for levitation as well but were unlikely to use it for this engagement.

Sure, flying was great, but the exposure was increased by one hundred per cent. It opened them up to getting shot at from the other hemisphere. Entering hostile territory at a leisurely glide was not Jon’s idea of a safe approach. Not to mention grasping with two extra ‘limbs’ on the shields was already tangling Jon’s motor neurons like a clump of stringy Natto.

“The entrance is neutralised and under our control, over.” Ril came through on comms.

“Roger, sweep and provide backup when you can. Over.” Jon looked to Kay, and they advanced.

“I shall proceed with checking for life.” Kay extended her magical sight from warm corpse to corpse. The test was simple: if she could enter, the tenant was no longer renting. “On the left, sprawled figure, the aura clings thinly.”

They moved over to check. A soldier, battered, bleeding, and cloaked in dust, lay unconscious.

“Clear.” Just as he spoke, something rustled the magical ‘reeds’ at his back. It was brief and right on the periphery. Jon spun quickly and repositioned the shield. A large clump of bodies was that way.

“Master?”

“Be ready.” He felt her magical void nod. From the position of her arms, she likely had an arrow strung and drawn. The side benefit of being a super-strong superhero: keeping a 185kg bow drawn was effortless.

They crept forward, and Kay resumed her checks. To the left of the mound of bodies was the splintered and dust-covered throne. A majestic and venerable thing mere minutes before; it was reduced to an unrecognisable pile of wood and stone.

“Another near the throne.” Approaching they found an archer, broken bow still clutched uselessly in hand. The female soldier sat sprawled next to the tattered remains of the throne, wheezing and with a leg splayed crookedly to one side. The blank stare of shell-shock, a concussion, or worse kept her inattentive to their presence.

No immediate threat meant no immediate shooting. Hers was but to do and die, and she isn’t doing anything anymore.

Jon felt the dry lump in his throat and swallowed. There was always collateral, always.

They left her; only one target was designated for extraction.

The smoke had begun to clear, enabling him to visually confirm his nearby partner once more. He glanced to confirm she was indeed swivelling about comfortably with a drawn bow. Not a tremor in her sleek but wiry arms nor a crease of strain showed on her face, wow.

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His reverie was interrupted by bellowed battle cries. A quartet of soldiers erupted from a shielded hallway behind the throne.

Kay released her arrow as Jon drew up his sights. Interposing the shields and getting a headcount just as Kay’s steel-tipped shaft whizzed through the lead soldier.

The projectile propelled by the Life Bow didn’t stop, punching through the steel cuirass like paper and embedding in the stone wall beyond. The unfortunate soldier bucked and buckled under the impact with a cruel spray of blood and viscera erupting from the exit wound.

Jon was so morbidly fascinated—and a tad proud—that he initially failed to open fire.

Unperturbed, Kay reached for another fletching from her bow-mounted Rift Quiver. A more traditional backup quiver was on her back holding a cluster of identical projectiles.

The Rift Quiver was no more than a ring affixed to the aluminium frame with the end of an arrow fletching sticking out the draw side.

As Kay pulled and notched the new arrow shaft, it extended, as if from nowhere, to a full arrow; akin to the archetypal rabbit from a hat, only more deadly. Completely drawn from his realm, the polished head dropped a short distance into the waiting receptacle from which it would be shot.

Much as Jon would like to take credit, feeding ammo was the first thing tried by almost every military around the world upon acquiring Rift tech. The particular bow frame mods and the bunker-side feeder he adapted from archery forums. Rift Bows required custom frames and a bit of practice for the most optimised implementations, which is why the new monsters Kay wielded were the first to utilise them.

It could only feed one kind of arrow for the moment. Future modifications could change that, but having near-infinite ammo was already a logistical wet-dream.

Jon sported Rift magazines for this particular operation too, because of course he did. Their distinctive, bulky, circular bottoms—due to design constrains for Rifts and munitions clearance—set them apart from standard fare. All rifts had to be circular; nature abhorred corners along with vacuums. Except when it didn’t, like most of the known universe of cold stellar emptiness with very sharp gravitational spikes of dense matter and black holes. Entropy is working on it, though.

Kay loosed her second arrow less than a second after the first. Another poor soldier was skewered, this time through the head. The back of his skull erupted in a bloody mess. The arrow, apparently unsatisfied with brutal discombobulation, dislodged the helmet and pinned it to the rear wall. It clanged like a bell as it struck stone.

The other two soldiers sped forward unfazed. They expected some to fall in the charge and Kay couldn’t possibly notch another arrow before they closed. That’s when Jon sighted his reticle and squeezed the trigger.

Two efficient bursts of lead later and the exquisite plate mail, meant to protect, was turned Iron Maiden in some cruel parody. Bullets and metal shattered on impact sending shrapnel to mince flesh below.

The bodies clattered and splayed on the masonry floor, followed by the deathly silence that often suceeded gunfire. Rifle braced, Jon scanned around for more targets with Kay on his left flank.

Again, just as his attention eased an aura shadow flitted past. The way it moved and felt, set his nerves on edge; he couldn’t quite place as to why.

The locus of activity was narrowed now, the clump of bodies was all that remained. As they approached something definitively retreated, a terrible sign.

In any event, there was only so far to move back, and the shadow disappeared into the remaining corpses as Jon’s aura enveloped all of it. The cadavers were all still fresh and warm, adding substantial interference. Organics, especially complex ones, were not nearly as permissive as inorganic matter. Jon rested his finger on the trigger.

Kay set about her life signs appraisal, “Searching.”

No sooner had she begun when an aura wormed forth from the bodies; the uncannily familiar globular shadow swept harmlessly across them but undoubtedly registered Kay and Jon’s presence.

Jon’s nagging concerns sublimated to full-on recognition: “Life mage!” he yelled.

The bodies erupted, and a man darted toward the throne. Jon fired as did Kay but the figure moved expertly, taking advantage of the starling spectacle and using pillars for cover. The person rolled, retrieved something, and dove for obstructions once more.

Jon felt the shadow stretch and bob about within his presence, the similarities to Kay’s aura were undeniable, and yet the two were easily distinguishable. The difference could not easily be parsed into words, nor did he currently have the time to care. Telling them apart, aside from manifest positioning was knowledge enough. The aura felt them, and they sensed it. Jon would have to rethink combat and engagements after this—along with protocol and manners. He shoved the reeling chain of thought to the side.

The most urgent concern was anticipating the opponent’s next move. As a void brushed up to Kay and hovered there, he realised, “Kay, duck!”

The man threw, and there was barely time to position the shield as a projectile gonged on impact. Something long and heavy had embedded itself deep into the material. Jon felt the extra weight, and his magic strained against the imparted momentum.

Kay let an arrow fly, and it hit. The silhouette spun with the impact and yelled out in pain, but the figure managed to stay behind cover as he spoke.

“Ces-sun, I could train you. This simpleton knows nothing of the power of your magic!”

They cautiously approached.

Kay replied, “It is what he does know and what you do not, that interests me more Caina.”

“What could humans possibly absorb in their meagre lives!” he bitterly retorted.

“The art of learning is more powerful than the reward of knowledge. You covet rather than foster, that much is clear.”

This fucker was buying time, but for what? Jon’s mind raced. Caina’s aura had retreated from view, so Jon spread his sense as far as he could to get a better look. The game of Rock, Paper, Magic meant an average aura, even of the Earth variety could extend with a focused target far further than his Plasma could diffuse to sense it. Earth mages needed tethers but did not need to imbue the whole length, only conducting through and grasping the part they needed. Life Mages and up didn’t even have those minor qualms. Seeing where such a mage was focused in a room full of the recently dead was an exercise in futility. He sensed only the distorted shadows of bodies.

Bodies! As he spun about, a previously dead soldier sat up and lobbed something at him. He dodged, but an edge lightly caught his neck. “Fuck!” he ignored the pain.

Urgently switching tactics, Jon rushed up and dove past the pillars, emptying his clip as he fell. Caina needed to be neutralised before any more cadavers decided to ‘help’.

A few landed, but the stubborn shit was still up.

Then came Kay, and in the diffuse smoke, he saw her bow forgotten. Instead, she lunged with a clean right hook at the lord’s chest; an agonising crunch echoed off the surroundings, and the nobleman flew into a nearby pillar.

Even with Jon rapidly feeling light-headed, it did not distract him from Caina’s head exploding as one of Ril’s Manriki pummeled the dude’s skull.

Ah, my crew is fucken beautiful!

Things started getting very slow, and his body was quite weak for some reason. He crawled to a wall with extreme effort and slumped on it for support. Slouching against the stonework, his head lolled to the side. Being off his feet felt great; he was surprisingly quite exhausted.

Staring down, his chest was surprisingly wet, warm and wet. That brought back erotic memories, but this time it was red: probably not a good sign.

Why was it so dark, he wondered. Faces were approaching him, one with exotic swirling eyes of bright pink and blue, pretty. The other’s were a duller green, determined but friendly, good eyes. It was sad to leave those eyes, but the darkness called.

Oyasumi! he mentally declared. Actual words were donnerse moeilik. Ja, it was definitely time to sleep; so he did.