Emil

Emil woke up to the dim glimpse of dawn. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon—its gentle rays peered through the gaps in his blinds, slowly heating up the blankets enveloping his wary body. Spoiled by the warm caress and the comfort of his own bed, he gradually closed his eyes once more.

He was on the precipice of deep sleep. Random thoughts adrift his subconscious. Mia's cooking. Fixing the broken chairs. Cleaning up the tavern. The vibrant cocktails by Caiside that he wanted to share with Mia.

The orphans that he failed to save.

Emil shot up, jolted awake by the horrific imagery. The scene of the children buried beneath the flaming wreckage of the Nostra facility flashed before his eyes. The disturbing sight was forever seared in his mind. He clenched his chest, trying to stop the furious pounding of his heart.

I did everything I could.

He repeated those words to himself, trying to silence his guilty conscious. It took a solid minute before he finally felt calm enough to settle down. Emil groaned as he sunk back in bed. A dull, scalding buzz washed over his torso and limbs—the unhealed scars from his fight with Decim.

This is going to take awhile to heal, he thought, hoping that the witch was aware of his wretched state. He didn’t expect her to be sympathetic to his troubles—empathy didn’t exist in monsters like her. But at the very least, he believed that she was rational enough to spare him from any new missions for a little while. Overworking an injured agent would only lead to disaster.

Thankfully, he uncovered the Azurite cache and left the hospital yesterday at a fortunate time. If he would been any later to return to the tavern, then Mia might have gotten—

Stop it. He shook his head, catching the panic flaring in his chest. The worst didn’t happen. Let’s not think about hypotheticals.

Still, the irony of the situation was not lost on him. His assignment with Nostra was to prevent a stolen Azurite cache from escalating into a national security incident. His task with Grenze was to reduce their authority and destroy their exploitative businesses within the slums. Both missions were supposed to be for the betterment of society. And yet, his actions somehow directly led to Mia suffering.

It felt like the world was playing a cruel joke on him.

Either way, this area isn’t safe anymore. We probably need to move. Or I can petition the witch to add more security to this area until thing stabilize—

Tap, tap, tap!

Emil turned to the window. A carrier pigeon was pecking on the glass.

***

The witch summoned him again.

Fuck! I can’t believe this!

Emil stomped towards the elevator shaft separating the halves of Dannan.

When he first realized the pigeon carried a letter from the witch, he immediately wanted to tear the pages apart and ignore whatever message was written. It wasn’t until his eyes caught the first line that he forced himself to stop.

“Don’t rip this apart—or I’ll remove the agents I placed around your home.”

That damn witch, she knew.

She knew that his patience had worn thin, and she knew that the tavern had been ransacked last night. Dannan was Steiger’s headquarters, so naturally the witch had prying eyes surveying the city. And of course, she knew exactly how to tug at his conscious to make him do her bidding.

If she was willing to go this far to convince him to come, then something serious must be brewing. Emil shook his head in disbelief. He had to come up with a ridiculous lie for Mia to let him leave. Like a puppet being pulled on taut strings, he made his way towards Upper Dannan.

He eventually arrived at the Royal Bank of Ardair, the undercover headquarters of Steiger—the same dreary building that looked laughably out of place amongst the opulent splendor of Upper Dannan. This time, however, the receptionist led him downstairs from the ground level.

After an agonizing descent down a long treacherous flight of stairs, they safely reached the bottom. There was a narrow room with a door and a tiny lamp affixed to the wall. The receptionist went to unlock the door.

“The director is waiting for you inside,” she said before turning back up the stairway. Emil stared as the receptionist faded into a moving silhouette. Suddenly, he was alone.

Calm down.

He took a deep breath. Claustrophobia was already gnawing at his nerves. He tried to silence the panic rising to his chest. A meeting with the witch was always an ordeal, and he had to prepare himself for any of her disgusting mind games.

Emil pushed the door open.

Rather than a modestly furnished room, he was surprised to find himself before a large underground chamber containing a wide field. The ceiling of the chamber was nearly two stories tall. Torches lined the stone walls, brightly illuminating the space, revealing an impressive array of weapons and equipment arranged along the field’s perimeter.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I can’t believe she has an underground training facility right below headquarters.

The witch was standing at the center of the field. She was wearing a casual outfit more compatible for movement, consisting of a simple undershirt and linen braies that stretched to her ankles. Her long hair was tied back. A cloth towel draped over her shoulders. Beads of sweat clung to her exposed skin, glistening from the torchlights.

“You certainly love to dawdle, Emil,” the witch said with a chilling grin. Emil scowled as he approached the center. I have a bad feeling about this.

“...I’m not overly fond of being summoned when it’s supposed to be my time to rest. This is the second time that this has happened,” he spat, not bothering to hide his fury.

“Then logically you should have hurried up to get this meeting over with instead waiting by the door,” the witch retorted, “I’m also short on time, so let me get to the point.”

The towel on her shoulder suddenly fell towards the ground. Emil blinked. Hortensia inexplicably vanished from his sight.

Huh?

His eyes were slow to process what just happened. The left side of his neck suddenly itched. In his periphery, he caught a glimpse of the air vibrating. Specks of azure crackled at the edge. His instincts screamed at him to move.

Emil tossed his head back—right as Hortensia phased into existence on his left. Her arm swiped laterally in a wide crescent, splitting the air where his neck had been just a second prior.

“Not bad. Your sensitivity towards mana certainly improved.”

Emil forgot to breathe. Air returned to his lungs as the harrowing realization set in—he nearly just had his head cleaved off.

“W-What the fuck?!” he screamed, taking a few steps back to increase the distance between him and Hortensia.

“Spar with me,” the witch demanded with authority. Emil winced at the murderous pressure exuding from her presence. Suddenly, he was regretting his decision to step foot into this place. Still, he refused to be ordered around like a slave.

“A-Are you insane? Do I look like I can put up a fight right now?” he lifted his shirt and pointed at his torso, still wrapped in yesterday’s bandages. Patches of sweat and blood already drenched the surface.

“Irrelevant,” the witch said nonchalantly, “You’ve awakened a second Gift. This has never happened before in the short history of the Exalted. You’re an anomaly. I need to understand how the Awakening has changed you.”

So she summoned me here to beat the shit out of me. Emil clenched his teeth, suddenly indignant.

“How about fuck off and find someone else to be your punching bag?! I’m not doing this shit right now!”

As much as he wanted an opportunity to bash the witch’s face in, Emil was not stupid. The gulf between them was immeasurable. Hortensia didn’t ascend to the position of Steiger’s director due to nepotism or seniority. The woman was fiercely competent—both as a combatant and a field agent. It could be said that the infamy of Steiger’s Cleaners as ruthless and relentless hounds originated from her feats.

“An extra week’s pay,” the witch suddenly said. Emil froze. The rage boiling inside his chest was instantly quenched as if someone had submerged him in cold water.

No! I’m not falling for this again!

“I don’t ne—”

“And if you impress me, I’ll double it.”

That silenced him. Emil’s jaws dropped at the irresistible deal. “…Are you serious?”

“Yes. When have I ever lied to you about compensation?” the witch said with a devilish smirk. She knew she got him. Emil bared his teeth, hating himself for being tempted by the trap.

He needed money. Bad. The raid on the tavern meant that particular area of Lower Dannan was no longer safe. He had to move Mia and Raz to a more stable location. All of that costed extra money he currently did not have.

“Fine.” He resolved himself and got into a fighting stance. The witch raised an eye, seemingly amused at his sudden change of heart.

A distance of twenty meters separated the them. Emil waited, focused, ready to react to any subtle twitches or flexions along Hortensia’s body.

Mana suddenly gathered at the soles of her feet. What? He's never seen mana move in such detail before. The changes to his vision perplexed him, but he had no time to dwell on it. Hortensia dug her heels into the ground. Immediately, she lunged, crossing the gap in an instant.

Shit! Emil ducked left. Hortensia’s fist rocked the air. Gust from the impact of her punch grazed the side of his neck. He immediately retaliated with a right hook, fighting to control the momentum, aimed at the witch’s jaws. She easily weaved out of the way. Sensing danger, he retreated—right as Hortensia countered with a vicious kick.

“Not bad. Your reaction speed is greatly improved.”

Sweat trickled down Emil’s neck. He let out a heavy breath. They barely exchanged two moves, but Emil was already exhausted. The pressure exuded by the witch was suffocating. His nerves were on constant alert, frazzled by the knowledge that one direct hit will likely knock him out. His unhealed injuries didn’t help either.

Still, he wasn’t completely helpless.

I can definitely see more now.

Sparks of azure danced around Hortensia’s body. Emil’s eyes could now pick up on the turbulent mana coursing in Hortensia’s vicinity. An effect of his Awakening. Reading how the mana fluctuated, he could somewhat anticipate the witch’s movements.

“Let’s see how you deal with this!” Hortensia suddenly vanished.

She’s using her Gift now! Emil’s eyes scanned the vicinity, turning his head in quick bursts, trying to decipher where she was going to appear.

He was mid-turn when the ambient mana suddenly surged. Hortensia phased into existence, appearing at the spot where he was facing just a second prior.

“Ngh!”

Pain exploded on the right side of his torso. Emil felt his body airborne as he was flung to the side by Hortensia’s empowered kick. In his periphery, she vanished again.

He crashed into the earth. His back throbbed. His torso screeched in pain. But there was no time to agonize. Emil suddenly sensed Hortensia behind him.

Immediately, he rolled to the side, struggling to his feet, narrowly avoiding a heavy stomp to the chest. Hortensia pursued him like a relentless predator, unwilling to yield the initiative.

Desperate, Emil activated his Gift.

“Burn!”

His Azurite pendant glowed a brilliant blue. Fire snapped into existence, swarming his body. He ignored the flash of agony as he beckoned the blaze to devour the witch. The flames surged with a sadistic glee. Right before they made contact, however, Hortensia phased out of the way. She immediately re-appeared to his left.

This time her punch connected.

Emil’s skull rattled. Tears clouded his vision from the thunderous pain. Hortensia gave him no room to breathe. Another punch loomed. The hairs on Emil’s arm rose. Goosebumps slithered across his skin. His instincts screamed.

Unlike the previous strikes, this one possessed an intent to kill.

“Ahhhhh!” He cried out of desperation. Mana swelled out of his pendant. He crossed his arms over his chest in a last-ditch effort to intercept the killing blow. As Hortensia’s fist approached, his arms were suddenly encased in a layer of earth.

Crunch!

Emil was sent to the ground. His arms stung, abuzz with a searing pain. Stone fragments dropped around him—the byproducts of his new Gift.

He blocked Hortensia's killing blow.

Excited, he tried to stand up—only to find his body unwilling to comply. The ceiling of the underground field suddenly began to spin.

“Looks like that’s all you got,” the witch’s voice boomed in his ears, sounding disembodied. She was crouched beside him, eyeing his pathetic state with a sneering grin.

“Rejoice, I just thought of your next assignment.”