Texcoco (Modern Day Mexico), Baijo region, Aztec Empire
1510 A.D
The sun shone over fertile land, its rays of light providing life to the inhabitants of the earth down below. Cempasúchil grew in abundance, giving a golden layer to the rocky land. Jacarandas and orchids had bloomed, absorbing the energy of the sun for photosynthesis. Opossums, Howler Monkeys, and Armadillos ate in abundance. The dense earth was a deception, for it truly was fertile, it had merely hardened due to the volcanic eruption that had occurred weeks ago. The ashes from the nearby volcano contained many nutrients useful for the soil.
Texcoco was situated on a tectonic plate. There were a large number of actively exploding volcanoes, wolves, and jaguars prowled through nearby areas, there was a lack of trees, the sun felt scorching at times and earthquakes were common. Truly, not a place for rest.
Who in the name of Ororo would want to live here? Thought Abernai
Abernai observed the small house on the hill. It was made of wood, clearly, a sign of the 5th Fruit, for how else could it not catch on fire and burn in this territory? Abernai was the 4th son of Kubo Suichi, the One Lord of Hijema Castle. Tales had spread of his father’s use of Spirit Conversing, something only a True Master should have been able to use. Naturally, people began writing down false history, tales of a completely ordinary castle, instead of the magic powerhouse it was, to ensure that their Essences would remain intact.
Abernai shook his head. Abernai was a tall Japanese boy with royal green eyes and blonde hair that reached down to his shoulders. Sweat poured down his red uniform, ornamented with golden buttons tying them together, a tissue in a pocket near the shoulder. His muscular physique jutted out, his six abs feeling rock solid after a day in the trenches. His Katana lay in his scabbard, to the left side of his uniform. His long pale fingers wrapped around the sword as a figure began to emerge from the house.
Unbeknownst to most, the silver pants Abernai wore were Sangu, its jingle reduced via the cutting off of certain parts. Beneath the suit was another layer known as a hauberk. The combination of different armours would have made Abernai look like a fool but no one dared say it to his face. His angular face with a sharp short nose and straight cheeks made him look like a hawk. A handsome hawk to be sure, with all the suitors lined up back home. Yet, a hawk was not to be trifled with. Animals, after all, could use Essence too.
His would-be enemy revealed himself. He was a massive behemoth of man, shrouded in darkness with red glowing eyes and golden hands. The world beneath him cracked as he jumped into the air, heating it as he urged towards Abernai.
Abernai sighed. He unsheathed his katana and muttered a prayer. That the bloodstains on his sword would be easier to remove this time. Then he spoke aloud.
“Essence of Rocket.”
Power surged into him. Fires burst from his arms, his hair oozing flame beneath the winds. The enemy neared. He spoke once more.
“Essence de Dan.”
His armour burst with lightning, fueling his cybernetic enhancements, a gift from the Izunami for his services. Then he ran forth towards the shadow giant, his green eyes focused on its appearance, analyzing its strengths, weaknesses, and history for the battle. Time seemed to slow down for both inhabitants of the barren land.
Continuing to face his foe, Abernai ran up, seemingly through invisible stairs. The being slowed down and tried to body slam him. Abernai threw his katana at him, it harmlessly gliding towards his face.
That was, of course, the whole point. Distracted by the useless blade in his face, Abernai unleashed his real weapon and clapped his hands, slowly releasing them to form a blade of electricity. Using the dynamics of magnetism, he pulled the blade towards himself with his power. The being saw what was happening and grabbed the katana, pulling Abernai up. Smiling for the first time in ages, Abernai spread his hands towards his foe, shocking him immensely due to his aforementioned gold armour.
Stunned, the enemy attempted to grab Abernai who merely twisted away and kicked his katana into the being’s sides. Distracted by the Katana, the giant attempted to pull the blade out. His attention diverted, he failed to notice Abernai sleeves withdrawing, revealing the Hidden Blades. Abernai flew towards the boss’s neck, neatly slicing his vocal cords open, unleashing a torrent of blood. Screaming in agony, he whirled around, only for Abernai, swifter than the wind, to pull his blade out and decapitate him through his now weakened neck. He grabbed the head and let the other body parts fall.
The battle was over in less than a minute. Abernai floated down the ground, mildly annoyed that his sword was slick with blood once more. Katanas were mainly ornamental for the likes of Abernai, yet Abernai refused to relinquish his blade. He preferred solid steel to pure energy. Steel, after all, did not disintegrate after use. Unfortunately, he sensed another presence. A hand appeared, by itself without a body, outside the wooden house, beckoning him in.
I hate Skin Walkers thought Abernai. He put his bloody sword back into his scabbard, descended onto the ground, and walked slowly inside.
Well, at least one of the heroes is dead.
1510 A.D
Arabian Desert
Misaq backtracked until he reached his wares. Beyond the valley lay a place, an oasis where traders and merchants gathered to discuss the finest of wares while Misaq sold dates in a corner. Sometimes he'd get to sell zam zam, the holy water from Mecca after going there on Hajj but he mostly sold dates. It was a good business, it earned a fine livelihood and reputation. It was just boring. How Misaq wished he could go back to it now.
"What in the name of Allah?" wondered Misaq out loud.
Before him lay the oasis. The water was often leaked into the surroundings as a way to cool feet. Said water was red and full of corpses. At least a hundred people lay dead. The men, women, and children had their faces to the earth, their backs struck with arrows. It was as though a Jinn had summoned a storm of arrows and laid waste to market. Misaq's gaze wandered to his stall. Full, as usual. He observed the other stalls. They were broken and empty. How peculiar, that his stall had been left empty. His mind wandered back to the thugs who beat him. Though he could not understand their words, he understood that they had been arguing. The bodies near them had died in horror, perhaps slowly. But perhaps they hadn't. Misaq went back to the original corpses. Though he wished to vomit, he felt quite hungry and there was simply nothing to release.
The bodies had not been preserved well. Their faces had been ripped open by the sandstorm, the women having been castrated. Was Misaq seeing things or did the wounds look recent? The bodies were not recognizable but Misaq was certain the thugs could not have missed the graveyard ahead and wondered if they had been there too. He noticed a knife embedded in the girl's heart. He tried to pull it out, only for the knife to break midway.
"I’ll leave this to the guards," Misaq said aloud.
It was easy to observe the wounds as the bodies had been neatly placed onto pikes, holding them up towards the sun. The sandstorm must have torn their skin open. Wait...why hadn't the thugs finished him off? Unless they had put the bodies there on the pikes and let the sands do the work of hiding the initial wounds. Misaq wandered back to the graveyard. The right thing to do would be to alert the Mamluks to this horror and perform the Jinaza for these poor souls. Misaq started robbing their pockets, hoping for money or weaponry. He found little of either, just a dagger the size of his pinky finger, a few coins, and an odd pair of spectacles. He put the spectacles on and suddenly his eyesight improved dramatically. Well, finders keepers then. He then went over to his stall and noticed that the dates had not been stolen because insects were eating them. Enraged, Misaq put his hands up and released a force push, destroying his stall and the rotten dates.
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2 hours later, Misaq journeyed to his home, found nothing of importance, and traveled to the nearby city of Al Hufuf. Hufuf, as Misaq recalled, made textiles out of wool, silk, and cotton. The town was also renowned for its fruit of the date palm from the khalasi variety of dates, locally grown in Hofuf from which Misaq earned his day-to-day wages. Like most aspiring traders, his worth was tied to the nearby guild which managed who Misaq can trade with as well as accounts and resources. As of right now, his wages were near empty and as such, he was not meant to go anywhere near the main city, as he would likely be beaten by the other guilds for not associating with them. Not that they would commit such a horror, oh no, they had others to dirty their hands for them.
Simply being in the marketplace had consequences. Misaq had attempted to flirt with a girl his age at 15, not realizing that she had an angrier, criminal underworld-connected older brother, who over a month, reminded him why flirting was frowned upon. Misaq still had nightmares of people breaking into his house, beating him black and blue, healing him, and repeating.
Misaq ignored the crowds of people gathered at the other stalls. All crowds in the world followed an involuntary structure; look nowhere at all and you would arrive at your destination without bother. Cause a scene and you would make a path for others through your distraction, a lesson Misaq had learned well from one of those people from across the sea, who had brought a bear to Saudi Arabia that had caused a massacre when the local warlord had set it free. Enough idle thoughts, back to the matter at hand. Misaq stood next to the crowd. As a tall man, he tended to get noticed so he quickly stole a hat from a nearby vendor when he wasn't looking, looked down, and, moved out. As the sun began to peak, Misaq had finally found the house of Abu Hajj.
Abu Hajj was so aptly named because his father greatly enjoyed going on Hajj, the tradition for Muslims to go to the Kaaba to do... well a lot of things but mostly prayer and washing the human vessel of filth. Due to his trade of entire palm trees, he was one of the richest men in the city. That wasn't saying much, the city wasn't particularly large or impressive but Misaq had a vendetta and he intended to see it through. Riches were no match for magic.
Misaq quickly ducked behind an unbuilt house when he noticed 2 guards at the front of Abu Hajj's house. It was a bizarre structure, it looked like a bigger version of a poor man's home, with 4 walls, a door, and a curved roof. The guards looked bored. They also looked quite nasty, wearing Jinn masks to frighten onlookers as well as curved swords hanging by their sides. Or so Misaq thought, for why else would they look like something out of a fairy tale? They appeared to wear hardened leather armor, gilded pointed helmets, a sayf broadsword packed at their backs, and a wooden shield. Former members of the Mamluk army or maybe actual members here on a side job? Thought Misaq. Who knew what the Mamluks planned these days, lounging around in their gardens of fruit and women. Suddenly, one of the guards took off his mask, revealing a shaven neck with a swirly mustache. The other followed him, revealing a full black beard. Their eyes remained hidden.
"So Moustache man and Bearded Man, eh? Let's see how much Hajj is paying you." Whispered Misaq quietly to himself. He found a rock and threw it in front of them. He waited for a reaction, only to realize the pebble had made no sound whatsoever. Angered, Misaq picked up a nearby glass bottle and threw it at the wall, breaking it instantly. Mr. Moustache looked around.
"Did you hear that?" said Mr. Moustache to the Bearded man.
"Yeah, some kids are playing nearby. One day, one of them will get hit and we can stop having to worry about them chucking our glass our way." Spoke to the bearded one.
"Should we do something?"
"Nah, they know better than to throw a glass at a cavalry member and they’ll learn with experience."
While no expressions came upon the Mustached man’s face, his expressions were like a brick wall, his body language told a different story.
Misaq threw another glass bottle which produced a much louder sound.
"I think we should investigate that one." Said, Mr. Moustache.
"Brother, when you started this job, you felt like you were constantly being watched. Like the whole worlds against you. It's just paranoia. Trust me, there's no one out there who wants to break into a warehouse carrying the wood of all things." said the Bearded Man.
Wood? thought Misaq. That's new. When did Hajj switch to wood?
Misaq tip-toed closer to the guard and unleashed a gush of air from around the corner. It slightly pushed the guards away.
"Windy today, isn't it?" Said, Mr. Moustache
"Can you shut it? I want a bit of a shut-eye and not soak in sweat in this heat. Who came up with the idea of masks anyway?" Spoke Bearded Man.
"Remember the old saying: nothing is true, everything is permitted. What our employer wants, we do" said Mr. Moustache.
Finally, Misaq went towards the corner of the house, where the curved blade was barely visible. He carefully pickpocketed it. Many claimed it was impossible to pickpocket something so large. The burden of carrying it would have been lessened immediately. Many people were not guards. A guard was trained until his sword started feeling light so he could use it effectively by swishing it around quickly. It turned out to be a bit heavier than Misaq thought as he dropped it immediately. Startled, the guard reached over to his side and found an empty scabbard. As he turned around the corner, Misaq went back to his hiding spot. Confused, Mr. Moustache began to pick up his sword.
XXX
What an odd day, Thought Malik. First the glass, then the wind, now an invisible pickpocket. I could have sworn I saw someone.
Malik then felt a pair of arms slide around his thick neck which then tried to squeeze. His assailant didn't get very far, apparently unaware that human hands couldn't squeeze through chainmail armor. At the very least, not the hands currently visible to him. Malik turned around and noticed a somewhat fat figure of a moderately handsome, clean-shaven man who looked tired and bewildered. He had a chubby face which wasn't exactly round, clear brown monolid eyes, short black hair that was shaven a bit above the ears but not too much, leaving a small black bush like structure on top. His eye brows were straight and light. His nose had a wide base yet looked like it could take a beating. His face looked smooth, his chin curved, his short lips a bit sharper than the average lips and overall could be described as a well fed face with an intimidating aura. Strangely, Malik felt himself pull towards this man, despite not thinking he was that good looking due to some acne on his face. Or were those scars? That triangular jaw looked good though.
He had thin arms and a rotund belly. With the lack of sugar lately, it must have come from eating an excess of meat. Meaning there was bulk in there somewhere. His thick legs and posture made him feel rock solid to Malik.
His actual personality left much to be desired.
XXX
"Are you OK?" Asked Mr. Moustache. As he talked, the Bearded Man turned around from the corner. He began laughing.
"I can't believe it. How is it that on the very first day of our vacation, you, Malik managed to 1) have children break glass at our house and 2) have a merchant who tries to assassinate his way into a building that even I wouldn't be able to?" finished Bearded Man
Mr Moustache, no, Malik replied "I don't know, I don't actively go looking for trouble. Speaking of which," he turned to Misaq with a murderous glare "Looks like trouble found you. Still got your whip Amir?"
Amir said "Never leave home without it!" as he pulled a whip out of his backside. Misaq tried to think very quickly of a solution, using his knowledge of mathematics and economics. Nothing came to mind., The two guards approached with the devil's look upon them. Misaq quickly came up with a lie for a name and the truth.
"Wait! My name is Qasim and I came here to rob Hajj!" cried Misaq
"Wait really? That was easy." Spoke Amir.
"Clearly not a professional. What an out of context statement, imagine if you had said that at a hearing, they might have killed you right then and there for the insult. Clarify that it was a person next time and not the activity." Said Malik.
Misaq, now named Qasim, explained his story to the guardsmen. At the end of it, Malik's face cracked open to reveal a smile.
"When was this plight?" Asked Amir.
"Uh, 5 to 6 years ago," replied Qasim
"What and you thought to never check up on him? He's dead. Killed by bandits on the way home, his family was enslaved with his sister being the sole survivor and now a member of our elites."
"Huh. Well, how about that?” Misaq’s body jutted in different directions, looking for a possible escape. His eyes darted everywhere and his hands were still. This did not escape the guard’s attention. Misaq, in one final plea, spoke.
“I guess we’ll go our separate ways now.”
"You tried to strangle a guard and rob a house. A night naked in the torture chamber ought to set your mind straight. Now don't resist or we'll flay you where you stand." said Malik.
Defeated, Misaq was escorted by the soldier guards to the nearest torture chamber, unaware of the figure in the sands, who used the opportunity to enter the warehouse.