Emil

It was night of the mission.

Emil tossed the hood of his cloak over his head and fastened his Nostra mask over his mouth. Rain poured from the pitch-black skies, slamming against the earth in violent patters. Cautiously, he advanced—his feet already drenched in the puddles of the incessant rain as he held onto a lantern encased in glass. The flickering candle inside barely illuminated a few meters in front of him.

Baer and Caiside were close behind. Further down the line was a wagon hauled by a few of Baer’s sturdier men. The rest of them surrounded the wagon, diligently escorting it down the muddy roads.

Emil was at the vanguard. His eyes darted back and forth, scrutinizing the darkness for any signs of an ambush. They were supposed to be the decoy to draw attention away from the delivery of the real shipment. If they did their job well, then a fight was almost inevitable.

I don’t know if I made the right choice. Emil’s mind drifted amidst the raging downpour. In the end, he decided not to inform Steiger of this potential lead. His gut feelings last night convinced him that this was another test devised by Decim. When he thought about it rationally, however, he couldn’t erase the thought that this was a missed opportunity.

This is stupid. Did I seriously let a vague feeling change my mind? He gritted his teeth, suddenly regretting his inaction. This was an affair of national security he reminded himself. The royal family and House Belle, the victim of the stolen Azurite, were observing this situation closely. The witch will not tolerate failure.

Fuck. He clenched his fists. Rain thundered in his ears. I really hope I’m not wrong.

“Take a left, Miles,” Caiside said, his voice muffled over the raging rain. Emil turned, rounding the bend of the road.

“We’re out of Nostra territory now. This is the neutral area. Stay vigilant,” Caiside announced. Emil narrowed his eyes, picturing the map in his head. They were about a quarter of the way through the assigned route. The wagon behind them creaked loudly as it struggled to make the turn.

From the lantern's dim lights, he could make out the outlines of their surroundings. The road they were on was straight, flanked on both sides by scaffolding from abandoned and unfinished buildings. The strange feeling of déjà vu wormed into his conscious. This is near the compound. His heart screamed, overpowering the stampeding rain. He hadn’t set foot in this area since that incident.

Stop. He bit on the inside his gums to steady his nerves. The throbbing pain echoed in his mouth. You can have your breakdown later.

Suddenly, he caught a distinct mechanical thunk amidst the rain. Emil turned. A glint of silver crossed the air from the atop of the scaffoldings. He instinctively covered his vitals with his arms.

“Argh!” the man beside him suddenly groaned. He writhed maniacally—the light from his lantern flickering out of the control until it smashed onto the ground. He collapsed, twitching, choking as blood pooled from the bolt embedded in his neck.

“We’re under attack!” Emil yelled.

“Shields up!” Baer immediately ordered. His henchmen reached for the metallic plates strapped on their backs and raised it above their heads. They crouched to make themselves as tiny of a target as possible. Iron bolts shot from the skies, peppering the plated shields with heavy thuds.

Emil dove to the side and clung to the wall of the left side of the road. The lantern was still in his hands, projecting a dim glow into the darkness. The man that was beside him now laid lifelessly on the ground.

Shit! If he hadn’t gotten caught up by his memories, he might have noticed the ambush earlier.

He raised his lantern and peered into the darkness. Several bolts instantly flew in his direction. He dropped flat onto the ground upon seeing the glimpses of silver. The bolts blasted the walls right above his head.

Arbalists. About fifty meters away. Atop of the makeshift tower from the scaffoldings.

Harrowing screams from Baer’s men soon screeched over the downpour. Despite their shields, the iron bolts were finding their marks in the gaps between their formation. Slowly, injuries were piling up. Men began to collapse. The wagon couldn’t advance further. There was no cover on this road. There was nowhere to hide and nothing to protect them from the relentless barrage, except for the flimsy plates of metal in their hands.

I need to get rid of the arbalists.

Emil chained the lantern against his hips and sped across the road towards the closest tower. Baer’s voice cried from behind, “Miles! What are you doing?!”

What am I doing?

The question thundered in his head. He was rushing into the fray alone into an unknown group of assailants. It was foolish. Even if he was an Exalted, he was still human. He wasn’t invulnerable. And for what? To save the lives of a couple of lowlifes dwelling in the slums?

Over the past week, he grew increasingly disgusted with how Nostra exploited the residents of the slums. He was honestly glad that some of their members were dying a pitiful death.

But even so, I’m still undercover. Even if he had to turn a blind eye to revolting scenes before him. Even if he was disgusted with himself. Even if he had to put his own life on the line. Emil could not betray his cover.

Because doing so will forsake his mission.

“I’m attacking!” Emil yelled back, unsure if his voice would travel. The base of the scaffolding came into the view. As Emil got closer, he could make out silhouettes of five men guarding the base of the tower. Under the illumination of his lantern, he caught a glimpse of the insignia woven on their shoulders.

Aois Nua again.

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

Emil revealed the machete beneath his cloak. He lunged at the nearest person and lashed out with an overhead swing. The Aois Nua soldier shrieked as Emil brought down the machete against his shoulder.

Clank!

Huh? There was resistance against his attack. His machete bounced off as the rebounding shock numbed his hands.

They’re wearing armor.

Unfazed, he swung laterally. The Aois Nua soldier was still reeling from the initial strike—defenseless as Emil’s machete sliced through his neck. The other four guarding the tower finally snapped into action.

Emil shoved the dead soldier backwards into the direction of the oncoming guards. Three of them were blocked, entangled by the mass of bodies. The fourth one rushed at him, hatchet in hand, aimed at his head. Emil leaned back as his assailant’s attack swiped the air uselessly. Without hesitation, he drove his foot into the guard’s knees.

The horrific crunch of bones teared through the air. He immediately put the man out of his misery.

Behind him, he could hear Baer’s voice shouting out orders. The clash of steel and blood echoed over the rain. More Aois Nua soldiers streamed out of the darkness, surrounding the wagon. The rest of their assault had begun. With everyone occupied by combat, no one from Nostra should be watching him.

It should be fine now. Emil took a deep breath. A cerulean blue suddenly glowed from the inside of his clothes. His chest instantly felt lighter as if his heart was caressed by the soothing light. High density mana embraced his body. It came from the fragment of Azurite dangling from his pendant.

The mana responded to his will, coursing through his body, imbuing his limbs with an inhuman strength.

He was using Mana Arts—an alternative technique that allowed the Exalted to use mana itself, rather than manipulate it to manifest their Gifts.

Emil rushed at the remaining soldiers. The guards stared at him in disbelief—hesitant at the otherworldly light surrounding his arms. Mana was usually invisible to Ordinaries, but in high concentrations, they could be seen as a pale blue light.

Taking advantage of their hesitation, Emil swung. His fist drove deep into the first guard’s chest. His body armor screeched as it caved under Emil’s inhumane strength. His ribs soon followed, fracturing with a resounding crack.

Emil twisted his fist. The mana in his hands spontaneously burst, ejecting a concussive blast that flung the guard backwards. The guard’s body crashed into the legs of the makeshift tower with the momentum of the mana blast. The scaffolding immediately collapsed, burying the remaining guards and arbalists atop into an untimely grave.

One down. Emil stared at the carnage before turning to the remaining tower across the road. His eyes were icy cold, gleaming with a savage glint.

***

BAER

What the hell is he doing?!

Baer was speechless as Miles’ body disappeared into the rainy darkness. He was about to run after him when Caiside pulled him back.

“Baer! We don’t have time for him!” Caiside yelled, his face frantic with fear. Baer finally realized that something was wrong. Out of the darkness, members of Aois Nua suddenly emerged from their flanks and sides.

They knew we were coming, Baer sneered uneasily. He was glad that they were fulfilling their roles as the decoy for Decim, but the number of enemies was beyond his expectations. They were here to buy time, not to get slaughtered.

“Form squares!” he ordered above the roaring rain. His men immediately shifted into a square formation with the wagon at its center. Their shields were raised to the front, forming a formidable wall along the perimeter. In their main hands held machetes brandished at the side, waiting, ready to attack once the enemies got close.

In the near distance, something tall seemed to have collapsed amidst the darkness. Baer noticed that the attacks from the arbalists had lessened significantly. That must be Miles’ doing. He smirked wildly, resolved not to be outdone by the newcomer.

“Roar! Slaughter them!” he yelled. His men responded with a resounding cry.

The soldiers of Aois Nua rushed in. They slammed into their square formation from all sides simultaneously. The walls of shields held firm. Machetes slewed through the air, clashing against flesh and iron. Bodies began to topple as the deaths steadily rose.

“Caiside! Take command!” Baer said, wrapping his fists in a pair of iron gauntlets. The rear of their formation was being pushed back. He jumped into the frontlines, wasting no time as he immediately lunged at the nearest foe.

Squelch!

Blood sprayed. His victim went down as their face was brutalized by his savage blows. Baer didn’t relent. Like a vicious beast, he continued his wild assault, rampaging through the enemy ranks with reckless abandon.

More. His mouth curved into a murderous smirk as another foe was downed.

More! His heart thumped with ecstasy.

More! More! More! His hands were already drenched in his enemy’s blood. Bodies sprawled around him. Death loomed over his head, gnawing at his subconscious, threatening to devour him at any moment. He reveled in the fear, the thrill, the rush of fighting to survive aside his men.

Could there have been a more joyous moment than this?

“Baer! We need support on the left flank!” Caiside’s voice rang over the chaos. Baer halted his advance and spun back towards the left side of their formation. There, his men were getting violently pushed back.

A single person led Aois Nua’s advance. Baer watched as the leader unleashed a devastating punch against their defenses. The wall of shields instantly folded—the metal plate caved in like it was a piece of parchment, bending inwards with a metallic screech.

The sight confounded him for just a moment. Abandoning his thoughts, Baer rushed at the leader of the assault. He tossed out a fast jab at the man’s side. His fist landed—not against flesh, but something insanely hard. Baer winced as the recoil stunned his hands.

The man turned to face him—right as a machete came down on his blind spot.

Clank!

Baer’s eyes grew wide. The machete chopped down at the man’s bare shoulder. Just before the blade made contact, however, the surface of the man’s shoulder suddenly morphed into a layer of silver. The result was the machete’s blade bouncing off with a resounding thud.

What the hell was that?

There was nothing that could have explained what Baer just witnessed. In the midst of his confusion, the man spun around and delivered a kick into his assailant’s torso. His leg was like a hot knife, slicing through Baer’s henchman with ease. His henchman flopped onto the ground, eviscerated in half as his blood splattered against the rainy earth. The grotesque aftermath sent terror rippling down the line.

Baer wavered for the first time.

He's like Decim. That was the only way to explain what he just saw. An Exalted. He wanted to order a retreat immediately. They stood no chance against one—not with just a group of Ordinaries.

But the midnight bell hadn’t rang yet.

The Exalted lunged at him. Baer retaliated with a right cross, aimed at their neck. Cling! The Exalted didn’t bother dodging, electing to take the hit head-on. His fist bounced off uselessly as the Exalted swung.

He saw a glimpse of death. The Exalted’s punch was like a steel hammer as it smashed into his chest. His body armor cracked instantly. His lungs screamed. His head tossed back, whiplashed and dazed. In the midst of his stupor, he felt himself airborne, before his body finally crashed into the wooden frame of the wagon.

“Ugh…” he groaned. Pain seared from his ribs. Something threatened to erupt from his throat. Baer tried to suppress it, but instinct took over. He threw up. His chest was drenched in a viscous puddle of red. His vision blurred, frazzled by the concussive blow. Agony rippled through his lungs each time he breathed.

Someone was screaming his name. But Baer could only keep his eyes on the Exalted. It trotted towards him with a sneering arrogance. The rest of his men were occupied by the other Aois Nua soldiers. Not that they can do anything anyways.

He forced himself to smile. He tried to rise from his spot, but his body refused to cooperate. Slumped against the wagon, he simply stared at his executioner.

There was no need to fear death. He knew that the moment he joined Nostra, his life was on a timer. Tonight was just the end of his luck.

Heh, do your worse.

As he embraced death, something shot into his vision. It dove into the Exalted, knocking it out of Baer’s view.