Something was wrong with Formal's crew.
When the Newblood brought it up to Cross, he assumed it was just because he was having trouble adjusting.
But Cole made Cross reevaluate that position immediately by driving a blackstone spike through the severed Blanken head he'd grabbed.
Armel had pried some blackstone from his arm without hesitation when asked, and didn't bat his eye when Cole fused that spike to his shoulder, mounting the head there like some grotesque trophy.
A replacement for the collection he lost with the tower, which was apparently something he had.
Luckily for Cross, he wasn’t forced to just sit and watch such a blatant misuse of Blackstone in and of itself. Throughout the process, Cole had been kind enough to catch them up to speed. Many of their comrades had been scattered beyond the range of just the Blackstone ruins. Cole and his allies had landed in a swamp just passed the mountain range and had to work their way backwards to try and locate the upper half of the tower.
Unfortunately for them, they weren’t the only ones hunting down the Tower.
“Crusaders were casin’ the place just as we came through.” Cole grumbled as he adjusted the position of the severed Blanken head “Didn’t see the Brighthome 'til it was blasting us.”
“It still floatin' around?” Armel scanned the skies.
“Nah, went for the tower after droppin’ some Blanken off.” He nodded east down along the crevice.
“And the Captain?” the Newblood spoke up.
Cole paused to look back at him for a moment before standing up and rubbing his trophy.
“Formal and them was tryin’ to move the cargo before the crash,” Cole turned to look them over “don’t know if he managed it.”
His gaze fell on Cross, who had failed to keep his eye off of the severed head throughout the entire conversation. It just seemed like such a blatant hindrance, what if he needed to look to the left? There’d just be a massive Pearlglass ball in the way.
Was Seniority an excuse for it? Was he just used to aiding the war effort with a massive blind spot?
Maybe Cole could feel Cross’ judgement radiating off of him, because he immediately narrowed his eye at him before leaning towards Armel.
“Ya got any other Comrades hidin’ 'round here?” he asked, only to visibly deflate when Armel shook his head “Only Newbloods then… great.”
“Don't be like that,” Armel threw an arm around him and gave him a shake “Cross here got double-chopped by that crazy Blanken Knight, and the other one’s-”
“Wait, this has been bugging me.” Cross held up a hand before pointing to him “Were you the one who named me after that? I was bleeding heavy, but your voice-”
“Yeah! Should’a seen it, Collie!” Armel shook Cole as he snickered “She was choppin' him up and down and he still wasn't goin' gray! I just had to call 'em something.”
Suddenly Cross’ confusion over Cole’s odd habit faded under that stinging wave of shame. Standing out enough to get a name on a first mission may have seemed like a godsend to the Newblood, but Cross had hoped he’d get something less demeaning. Cross went quiet, the knowledge that the random comrade who’d gotten him stuck with the title was Armel settling in slowly but surely. But more annoying than his unfortunate name was the prospect of just sitting around while Armel poked and prodded at Cole.
“Are there more Blanken between us and the Tower?” he asked Cole as he stood tall
“Should be.” Cole reached over to pat the severed head on his shoulder before turning away and walking along the edge “We scattered when that Brighthome fired on us. They split up to track us, so how’s about we see if we can save more comrades?”
They set out along the ridge with that goal in mind: pick up as many Noirites as they could before reaching the Tower. But as they went further a new realization settled in.
Cole had been the lucky one.
As they made their way east along the canyon’s edge, they began to come across more and more gray blackstone statues. Cole was quick to confirm that they were the comrades he’d landed with. Most had been decapitated, lying not too far from thin trails of Ichor.
They had been put through the same ordeal of being beheaded at the edge and drained of ichor before being tossed aside. It was excessive for the results sought in Cross’s opinion. The Blanken were clearly trying to minimize the chances of them fixing themselves by keeping their blood and bodies as far away from each other as possible, but fully gray bodies can’t be healed. They could only be recycled into fresh, usable Blackstone.
If he had been hunting down Blanken in the area, the clear choice of action would be to dump the bodies over as well so he could keep using the edge for ambushes. Then again, maybe they were on a timetable as well.
After all, the Tower was quickly coming into view.
Oddly enough, it was partially sunken into a growing lake of green sludge.
It had torn through the mountains, slowing down as it ripped open what looked like a cave network flooded with that sludge. It finally settled against the final mountain with the helm and battlements wedged through its peak and leaning through the other side.
All around the canyon were dozens of holes in its walls that were still leaking the stuff into the lake that obscured the tower's lower portions. That same lake had filled the end of the canyon, with various pieces of blackstone debris poking out of it. As they drew closer on the ridge, Cross was quick to note that even some of the holes in the tower were leaking that stuff. There was no telling how many floors were flooded with the stuff.
Coming to one of the leaking holes, Armel kneeled beside it before reaching out and grabbing at some. He rubbed it between his fingers for a moment before sticking some in his mouth and slurping it down.
“What's that?” Cole asked from the cliff’s edge.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Organic,” Armel smacked his lips a bit before glancing into the hole “wouldn’t be surprised if it’s some kinda nectar.”
“What?” the Newblood tilted his head.
“Mortals make this stuff.” Cole answered before nodding down to the slowly expanding pool far below them “Looks to me somethin’ was storin’ plenty of it.”
Along with the Blackstone debris, the green pool was littered with dead Noirites and numerous patches of Ichor.
“Looks like they was tryin’ to get inside from down low,” Armel noted whilst crouching down next to Cole “Gotta be Blanken keepin’ eyes on the place with Rune Blasters, gunnin’ down any who get close.”
“But then why isn’t it in pieces?” the Newblood asked, nodding towards the crashed Tower “In fact, shouldn’t they have Brighthomes floating around here? Not like the thing’s hidden.”
“It’s prolly cuz’ of that.” Cole pointed, making them focus their attention towards the tower.
Buried in the side of the mountain was a dark ring wrapped around the tower. Unlike the other pieces of Blackstone debris, the ring had a number of massive Obscuris Crystals arranged in different patterns along it. It was a Blacklight Ring, the core piece of any Noirite vessel responsible for both propulsion and defense.
Despite the fact that the Tower was completely grounded, Cross was able to see the Blacklight Ring still had active Obscuris crystals. They weren’t fully spent like the Blacklight Caster’s back in the ruins.
“The Ring still has a charge.” He noted, turning back to Armel and the Newblood “That means-!”
“Still good for blastin' any Blankin' that gets close.” Armel finished before looking around “Kiddies must not wanna risk more vessels blastin' it, and set up overwatch around instead.”
“They can’t get close, but neither can we.” The Newblood grumbled “Where’s Formal? We should be able to hear him even from here, right?”
Cross closed his eye and focused, but there was barely any thought speak nearby to latch onto. Just distant whispers so quiet and muffled that he couldn’t even tell which direction they were coming from. It could’ve been more Noirites hiding around the Canyon, or Blanken keeping watch over the Tower.
“Don’t matter if he’s in there or not.” Armel rubbed his forearms with a smile “I doubt the cargo’s still here, we would’ve heard it a while back, but the refinery inside should have enough Ichor to keep us going through the search. Not to mention weapons or-”
“Don’t!” the thought speak made them all go still and immediately move to the edge of the cliff with Armel.
“Comrade, you are not quick enough!” the voice shouted with a growl rising under her words “We cannot-!”
“He needs us!” another responded before a chorus of laughter rose up.
Below, Cross could see him. A Noirite racing out along the pieces of Blackstone towards the Tower. The laughter intensified as other voices joined, whooping and hollering as a flash of light caught Cross’ gaze.
From the other side of the Canyon, a beam of blue light spewed from one of the leaking holes. The Noirite launched himself behind a piece of Blackstone debris just before the beam slammed into the green pool beside him.
“Why run?” one of the voices asked “We bring freedom, my friend!”
“Blanken.” Cole grumbled before pointing to the other side of the canyon “Hearin’ at least a dozen of 'em up here, ain’t takin’ the direct route with them around.”
Cross noted the grumble the Newblood gave as he rubbed a hand along his Caster
“Such arrogance.” he grunted “To hide behind that savior nonsense."
Cross frowned before looking down, watching the Noirite dodge two more blessed beams before the third ripped through his shoulder and sent him spinning in an arc of ichor. That third one gave him pause, because it came from a hole in the ridge far above them. There had to be Blanken scurrying around the caves on their side as well.
Another beam tore the Noirite in half before he crashed into the green sludge, where he struggled to right himself, movements getting slower as he sank out of sight.
“You cannot keep us out forever.” the first voice stated “We know where you're firing from.”
“Then come!” a Blanken voice demanded “Come and remove us, friend. See the mother’s mercy firsthand.”
Armel pushed himself back from the edge and stepped away, prompting the others to move back as well. He went silent for a minute before glancing along the ridge they’d been travelling on, his gaze travelling from the Tower to the nearest cave.
“Seems Chance’s pinned down there.” He turned to them and jerked a thumb towards the hole “Let’s give ‘er some aid on the way. If we’s lucky, one of these caves'll lead to the tower.”
“And if we’re not lucky?” the Newblood asked
“Then we’ve got more skulking about to do.” Cross sighed before smiling “Either way I’d say we’re just about to get a proper fight.”
“Proper fight he says.” Cole snickered as he strolled past Cross towards the cave “Sixty turns in and I still don’t get Newbloods. Any fight for the King’s a proper fight.”
Yet again Cross found his wants shot down by the obvious, the way Armel smirked at him only went to further inflame the sting of discontent. But he knew his place, there was no way that Cole didn’t have seniority over him in some way. He had the partially muddled speech of Formal’s crew and a number of misshapen patches along his shell that spoke volumes about the number of battles he’d taken part in.
But the Newblood didn’t seem to share his hesitation, as he was quick to scoff at Cole’s words.
“Oh please, you were once a Newblood just like the rest of us.” He stated “Surely at some point you also longed for a real chance to-”
“Wrong.” Cole’s response was sudden and hearty, perhaps too hearty since Armel quickly patted him on the shoulder before gesturing for him to lower his voice. He gestured to the other leaking holes around them as Cole shrugged and turned back to them.
“I was shaped on the battlefield, Comrade.” Cole continued as Armel carefully climbed into the hole behind him “Nulmerra Quadrant Turn BQ-76. Where you two from?”
“Factory security.” Cross pointed out, only for Cole to smirk and turn back to the leaking hole.
“Thought so,” he began climbing in after Armel “neither of ya’ fit a mission like this. Ya don’t go sneakin’ this far into enemy territory with Newbloods. Ya need warriors! Hardened, deadly warriors.”
“Maybe you should’ve gotten some then.” The Newblood grumbled, but he kept his voice low as he glanced towards Cross “Can you believe this? Acting like we aren’t natural born killing machines.”
“I’m sure we’ll get to prove that before this mission’s end.” Cross gestured towards the cave “With how bad things have been, I’d be surprised if there wasn’t-”
A clattering of rocks made him go silent and whip his head back around. The ridge was devoid of movement save for several pebbles falling from one of the leaking holes behind them. Pieces of rock saturated in green were coming loose, but there were no signs of enemies even across the canyon.
But Cross locked his eye on that leaky hole, he could just barely hear the sound of something over the splattering of falling rocks.
“Keen senses there, comrade.” The Newblood spoke up just as he began working his way into the cave behind the others “Nice to have a wary one watching my back.”
Cross nodded, but kept scanning their environments up until the Newblood just barely disappeared inside the hole. But right before Cross followed, he paused again as he heard that strange sound over the dripping of the sludge.
Something hard was rubbing against rock nearby, but he just couldn’t see anything except the oozing sludge and the occasional piece of falling rock. Narrowing his eye in annoyance, he pushed into the cave, his hands surprisingly nearly sinking into what he thought was the floor. Instead, he found that the entire place had a layer of compressed green sludge lining its walls.
Flicking it from his fingers, he grumbled before pushing onward after his comrades, not realizing that odd noise was moving closer until it was right upon him.