Most people spend weeks before they activate their Stigmata for the first time. A Tide? Only a genius can wield them within a month.

Three? You met three who achieved them in days? Plus, one of them used both his Stigmata and Tide?

You must think I’m gullible to believe in such bullshit. Still.. it’s you… so I’ll let her know.

* Centurion Rasa’s letter in reply to Claudius’ report on Dante’s crew.

“Well, shit. They just dropped us off like that?” Sonna half-laughed with nervousness as she stood in front of the Starport alongside her troublesome group.

Lucius stared down at her, his many wounds bandaged together and speedily recovering. Beside him, Rejo gave her a similar glance, though he wasn’t sure what she said as the planet they had arrived at distracted the Araki.

It was a luxurious one, built for vacationing moguls. They were only allowed access thanks to the credentials of a Judge. Even the local name, Splendrous, was ostentatious. The tropical air stung their noses, long used to freezing or arid climates, with concrete filling out the rest.

The doctor wrapped her arms around each other as she addressed the others, somewhat annoyed but amused for the most part, “Of course. They don’t want to deal with us. And they only left us alone because of Dante’s deal with Claudius. We’re lucky he’s a decent guy. Now, do you have any ideas about what our next step is here? We have almost no money.”

Lips twisted as everyone realized that they were broke, fresh from prison, or gave all their income to their captain to ration out because they couldn’t do it themself. The lattermost, Rejo, despondently looked to the ground as he imagined all his credits burning away in a starship’s fire. Then, he imagined Dante’s wealth refilling it all later, and consuming the planet in the weight of endless gold.

Each individual thought of manners to gather money, and the two offered them at once.

“We could kidnap people and sell their organs while regrowing them.”

“Bounties? Surely some of these rich people have prices on their heads.”

Sonna stared at Joan and Lucius in awe, “What!? No. We can’t do either of those. That’s so awful!”

The soldier nodded, murmuring under his breath, “Right. I bet the rich bastards here have guards that are equal in value to their prices. Without weapons and cooperation, we’d get killed.”

While ignoring Lucius, Sonna clasped her hands together and peeked at Rejo. She hoped against hope that he had an idea. But as she looked at the man, she realized he was still clenching his hands closed at the long-lost currency.

These fucking idiots. I miss him already. No way, I just thought that...

Sonna wiped her brow as Joan grew more impatient. She wanted to find Dante so he could, first, pay her back and, secondarily, take her deeper into the galaxy. If that wasn’t possible, she was willing to give Claudius a call. Though… no one wanted to see the man again for obvious reasons. And for equal reasons, all present ignored Rejo’s rambling.

Thankfully for them all, the young man situated on the ground mumbled out an idea that they, by some miracle, heard between their arguments, “Scrapyards... I... I can build a ship.”

The anxiety-driven woman levied a finger at her companion, shouting with joy, “Ah hah! That’s it! We don’t need to buy a ship or safe passage! Arch can build us a ship, and then we’ll be off! Perfect!” Relief filled Sonna’s mind as she leaned down and reached out a hand to thank Archimedes.

Lucius, however, caught her wrist with force, causing a spike of pain through her arm. She yipped, stepping back while glaring at the soldier, “He doesn’t like to be touched. We traumatized him enough, carrying him earlier. But yes. That is an excellent idea. Are you sure you can do that, Arch?”

The boy nodded, relaying only a short condition, “Ye... yeah. As long... scraps aren’t bad. A full chassis.”

His speech’s confusing and nonsensical manner made perfect sense to no one but Lucius, who nodded his head in understanding, “Right, right. He needs a somewhat working ship, at the very least still with a whole body. He can’t just build it out of nowhere on his own in so little time.”

The soldier’s head jerked around, scanning for a scrapyard, but there was none in sight. They had no idea where anything was on this planet.

A moment of silence passed before Sonna groaned, raising a hand to her temple, “We’ll spit up and find it. Rejo, come with me. Lucius and Arch, I trust you guys. Joan... don’t... get caught doing anything illegal. Meet back here in... three hours.”

Several words of comprehension passed before the group fractured and went in different directions. API and his bodyguard looped to the other side of the Starport and went north. Joan slid to the west, taking some random face before departing as her natural face had quite the value on it.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

That left Sonna with Rejo.

The Weren looked at the Araki, and he turned to face her back, the tendrils on his face flickering in inquiry. Sonna rolled her eyes and walked southward along the luxurious street. Odd cars, short in stature, drove around the Starport with long, thin clubs hanging out the back and conspicuous drunks driving the vehicles.

Just a few seconds into their walk, Rejo pointed out what they might be to Sonna, “I think ‘ose are golf carts! Dante ‘old me ‘bout them!” The excitement he held wasn’t able to pierce through Sonna’s crippling stress.

The woman was shaking on the inside, doing her best to fight through it all. At least she had gotten a proper night’s sleep on the floor of the ship. She had slept in worse places, after all. A cold metal bed was better than laying next to an overheated vent, forced to receive burns or punishment.

It will only get better from here on out. I’m a new woman. A new person. First, we find this scrapyard. Then, we save Dante. If... we can... are we just delivering ourselves to our deaths? Maybe. But... we all need him.

Sonna’s feet carried her across the tropical paradise with purpose, though that purpose wasn’t sure of its guidance. Instead, the woman clawed into her mind, deciding to use her emotions for what felt right.

Sublimating ice formed out of her palms, leaving trails of wispy smoke in her wake. As she walked, however, more and more of the haze formed, and gradually, she started to gain an idea of how it worked.

She strode past a slim reptile of some sort, and as the dry mist fell over them, the liquid in the creature’s body siphoned outward. It flowed through the haze and delivered itself to Sonna, rejuvenating her body and providing her with strength.

The cuts, scrapes, and exhaustion she had felt dulled, and in its place, excitement rose. She understood what was happening. Sonna wasn’t just taking moisture. She was devouring life through the Lightsea’s manipulation.

The Tide she held was the second rarest, behind only the mystical Unnatural and above the sought-after Miro for the latter’s healing capabilities. Arido held tremendous potential for violence and death, not that Sonna understood the true nature of her powers.

Nonetheless, she was careful with her mists, using them only on the animals nearby and not letting Rejo graze them. In a mere few minutes, all of her wounds were gone, and a brief smile lingered before it fell to the reality she was in.

With this... I don’t need Dante. I could become someone important. Someone strong. All on my own. But... he saved me. I... I can’t just...

I can’t leave him to die.

As she tightened her jaw, the woman called up Rejo’s attention while his eyes scrutinized everything nearby. Her Tide was difficult to see, not to mention this planet wasn’t as populated as the previous, meaning she wasn’t worried about it being seen. But as they got further out from the Starport and started seeing fewer and fewer people in the fields of green that spread out, she wanted to help the Araki.

A stronger Rejo was a higher chance they would all live if they ran into Astraeus again. His Stigmata was incredible. Sonna believed that hers paled in comparison, and if her recollection of Eight’s words was accurate, it suggested that Rejo and the cryptic young man were both users of Cryo.

Most importantly... if he could create objects to use his Stigmata on out of nowhere, then that would be a massive boon. Rejo wasn’t the smartest in the world, but from what she had seen, he was far better in a fight than her.

Both his instincts and his physicality far surpassed hers.

“Rejo. Let’s try to get your ice working while we’re looking,” the Araki’s face was bereft of meaning as he peered back at Sonna’s words. She rolled her eyes, realizing she signed up for something immensely difficult.

He didn’t understand a word of what I just said. Damn it.

*********************

Lucius stood against a wall, listening to Arch ramble to himself about where a scrapyard most likely would be. The soldier let the young man continue, giving him ample time to come up with a decision. While Isaac struggled to articulate his words and often seemed slow, Lucius knew he was anything but.

It was the transfer of knowledge that he had difficulty with. If that wasn’t the case, then Archimedes could run circles around even Dante in wit. Lucius hoped, prayed even to Gods that wouldn’t listen or care, that Pythagoras would one day mature to such a level.

But in the meantime, Lucius rolled the spherical container in his right hand. Before he had left the starship, Claudius pulled him aside and handed him this device. Claudius had told him that Eight snagged it from one of the many dead Dirge before it decomposed back into the waters beyond.

A stored Qualae. An Immortal Corpse was the only way one could gain the power of the Lightsea without being born into it. One of inferior quality, meaning it wouldn’t give an immense boost in power, but it would still bestow the imbiber with access to the Lightsea and all the woes that came with it.

Lucius scrutinized the object, the item that had caused so much terror and pain throughout his long life. Most of those who delved into the Lightsea used these devices, whether it was the Judges and their ceremonies or the criminal underworld.

Few, truthfully, scant few had Dirge forced these abilities upon them. But it was more unusual than that, as it rarely amounted to anything, for those given Qualae were often slain after.

This came from an Anarchy, meaning he would only get a subtle boost in his already absurd physicality and a minor temporary talent increase. For a few days, maybe a few weeks, if he was lucky, he’d have a heightened sensitivity to the Lightsea.

Such a thing could help him train, but the blessing of an Anarchy wasn’t likely enough to overhaul his fighting style. It was more than that, though, Lucius didn’t want such a thing.

He despised these creatures, and he loathed those who used their strengths. Though... he was coming around to the latter. Rarely did he encounter Seafarers who weren’t unpleasant, and he had come across several in a row.

The soldier began to believe that it wasn’t the Lightsea, but rather the Empire’s military, that resembled such behavior. So, he continued to roll the orb in his hand, yet he would be more willing if it held a higher rank.

Lucius had heard legends that the stolen corpse of an Anacrux had been gifted to the slayer’s son, and that child had decades of incredible growth. The stars whispered his last name alone, and his first name was so terrible that no one dared to speak it.

Legate Vicar was born with gold in his veins and injected with rocket fuel, destined for greatness. Lucius, however...

The soldier was born in a lab, forced to survive countless experiments, and then, when ultimately freed, he fought in hundreds of engagements, suffering injury after injury.

And when he eventually got his life together... He lost everything.

In order to use such a thing... would only cement in his mind that he was meant for nothing but to be the dirt beneath some powerhouse’s boot. As such, he quietly placed the gift back into his pocket.

He’d give it to Joan. A thing like her deserved such a sentencing.

“Lucius? I... I have an idea,” Archimedes’ gaunt voice drew a smile unto the man, and he pushed himself off the wall to hear what was next.

********************

A figure slipped through an alleyway, dragging a man unable to scream as slurred words left his mouth. Four firm arms kept the drugged man still as another serum entered his veins. The victim grew limp as his eyes clouded over, and Joan’s grin emboldened at the art of her chemicals.

This one here wasn’t a flawless truth serum, but it made people more suggestible. With such an elixir, asking for something as mundane and unproblematic as a scrapyard was guaranteed.

“Where is the nearest scrapyard?” Joan’s voice slithered into the rich man’s ears with a crawling sensation, her tone mimicking that of a different person. The doctor couldn’t help but loathe her ‘partners’ methods.

They were too safe. Too... lawful. It was ineffective. Such reasons were why she enjoyed allying with Dante.

He would win.

That is that. The path didn’t matter, only the efficacy.

An answer came to her hastily, though blurred, “Reichter’s... Street... North Ave... Wwwwwhy are you dooooing this? Money? I can pppppay you...” Joan’s faux joy faltered as she shook her head.

“No, no, no. I don’t need money. Well, I do, but credits are easy to track, especially for someone like you. Have a nice day, rich man. Thank your stars that I’m busy,” Joan said as she stepped back after filling the man with another dose of liquid and put her hands on her hips, all four of them.

Well, now I have around three hours to kill. Let’s see what kind of unique fauna such a place has. I’m sure there are poaching galleries. Before I get a Qualae, I’d like to finish my fourth Biotic. The Brute needs just a little more.

Joan plunged deeper into the darkness of the alleyway, vanishing just before the man’s friends arrived, shouting for him, “Hey, Charres! Charres! Are you okay? Wow! You’re sloshed, man! This is a business retreat! You can’t be drinking so much!”

The people were none the wiser as Joan’s form cracked and rippled, falling onto all four and bulging with muscle. The Pouncer was out, and Joan had some destinations to visit.