Laguna - North-center - evening

The moon hangs in the air, illuminating this dead city with its mysterious glow; settin’ the stage for an out-of-control Source-user, ventin’ his Source all over the place, and me, a handsome devil, whose skills with the blade are unmatched… Man, my luck sticks. I couldn’t find a place to take a nap, and to add to the pile, I need to settle this brat down. Why does a guy like me have crap luck?

“Leave, old man!”

Geez, no filter for his mouth or his Source. This kid is givin’ off a crushin’ atmosphere, enough to make me feel exhausted just standin’ near him. Not cause it’s too much for me to handle, of course; I’m a refined swordsman. This kind of thing ain’t a sweat for me.

“Come on, kid. Frownin' like that is gonna make all the girls not wanna talk to you. You gotta be happier. Come on…” I stretch my mouth, curvin’ it upward. “...Smile.”

“Quit clowning around!”

He charges in all half-assed, and his arms wide open. I side-step him, givin’ me the chance to - literally - kick his ass.

“Whoa, easy there. You wanna think about your actions before you do ‘em.”

“Shut up!”

He swings around, dartin' right at me again without a care in the world. I dance around every one of his strikes, movin’ before he can even close the distance. This kid is puttin’ way too much force into his blows, not to mention his moves are simple as shit to read; he should just try to blitz me with dirty tactics… But it’s strange. His Source is expandin’, yet contractin’. This only happens to Source-users who’re tryin’ to expand the radius of their Source around their bodies without a trigger.

Typically, havin’ your Trigger represents your understandin’ of the basics of Source control. So, in simpler terms, using Source without a trigger is sorta like a dog being leashed and tied to a pole; the little guy can move away from the pole, but he can’t go too far. But, when you have a trigger, you let the dog off, though, dependin’ on the person, the radius you can expand it differs from people with high or low Source.

“Kid, what’s up with your Source?”

Might as well ask him. Even if he doesn’t know what I’m talkin’ about, that could give me somewhat of an idea of what’s going on.

“Source? Stop talking nonsense!”

Knew it. Then why the hell is it actin’ like that…? Hmm, too early to make heads or tails on what the hell is happenin’. More importantly, these girls need to hightail it since I have him distracted. The black hair girl doesn’t isn’t lookin’ all too hot though.

“Hey you, purple-hair girl. Take that girl with you and run. I’ll buy you time.”

She doesn’t waste her breath with a pointless question. She picks up the black hair girl and bolts out of here like a bat out of hell. Some other kid follows behind them. Looked kind of rough, but they'll be fine, probably.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the scary-lookin’ brat spits.

He runs after them, but I cut him off with the swipe of my blade. “Come on, kid. We’re supposed to be dancin’ here. You can save them for later.”

Judgin' by that disturbin' scowl on his face, I only pissed him off even more.

“Move!”

“No can do. I told them I’d hold you off, and when I say somethin’, I mean it.”

“Then I’ll kill you, too.”

Ending off with a battle cry that messes with the tranquility of this quiet evenin', he attacks me with the same careless moves as last time. This kid must really hate that girl if he’s actin’ this irrational. Even serial killers who’re crap at hidin’ their killin’ intent aren’t this wound up. And from his nasty lookin’ Source, he’s gonna blow more than a gasket.

“Listen, kid, I don’t know what’s with all this rage, but you better get it under control.”

His eyebrows stiffen, with his teeth gnashing together. “What do you know about my rage, you old bastard!?”

Good question. What do I know. Maybe he has a good reason to be angry at that girl, or maybe not…

“Nothin’.” I respond with, givin’ him no bullshit, just the truth. “...I don’t know why you’re so angry, and I can’t understand it either. All I know is that–”

A footstep tappin’ the ground behind me puts me on full alert. The edge of someone’s weapon glides toward my neck. I parry the blow, not even flinchin' at the surprise attack. The young man behind me is shocked to see me guard the blow with my excellent swordsmanship. But, instead of gawkin’ at me, he swings back at me with a counter, turnin’ his failed attacks turn into another strike. It crashes on top of me with a ton of force, and he’s only usin' one hand. It ain’t a big deal, but I’m somewhat impressed.

“Hey, nice spearman ship, or whatever the hell that thing is.” Some sort of chainsaw? Wonder how the thing works… Never mind that. Seems like this creepy-lookin’ kid knows how to fight swordsmen, so I’m gonna assume he knows his own weakness as a spearman and got over it. His Source doesn’t look like its been messed with, formin' a skin-tight outline of his body, thankfully enough.

“Your reaction time is impeccable. I was sure you were fully distracted,” he says, sportin’ a kind smile, and talkin’ like we’re sparrin’ buddies.

“Don’t take me for an amateur, after all…”

The brat, simmerin' with rage, speeds up behind me, boltin’ across the plaza. Deflectin’ his blow, I punt him in the gut, flingin’ him back to his last position. When he touched the ground he just came back runnin’, and the other one twirls his spear, thrustin’ it at me. These kids don’t miss a beat. They’re vicious, comin’ at me without a shred of mercy. Their attacks differ in style, sharin’ only forceful pressure that punishes indecisiveness. Though, they’re havin’ a hard time synchin’ up. The angry brat pushed ahead of the creepy-lookin’ kid, killin’ their momentum.

“Cade, don’t–”

“Shut up!”

The angry-lookin’ one, Cade, leaps a few feet into the air. His blade reflects the moonlight. Bringin’ down the shimmerin’ blade. I hit it with mine, disturbin’ the attack’s momentum. Again, I kick him in the stomach, puttin’ a hell of a lot more force into it. His ass hits the ground.

“Listen, kid, I meant what I said earlier: lettin’ loose like this ain’t gonna end well for you.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What?”

“You probably ain’t gonna understand what I’m sayin’, but your Source says so. Even if it’s your own Source, an excess amount is no good. Constantly filterin’ your negative feelings through it can increase your output, but, there are two problems with that: 1. You lose control over your flow, and you output more Source than usual…”

Though, I guess that might be a good thing for him, since it could lead to his trigger, but I ain’t gonna mention that.

“Just shut up!”

Showin’ impatiens, he lunges at me with his best. But, like all the other times, he just keeps missin’ the mark, flailin’ his knife every which way. Ventin’ rage through his Source sounds bad, but not really. Negative or positive emotions, Source reflects all of that, so neither one ain’t inherently good or bad, but in this case, what I said about him losin’ control over his Source is true.

“...I can tell you aren’t listenin’, so…”

I slam the blunt side of my katana into his shoulder. Its collision thumps the bone in his arm. He gasps, stumblin' to his right. I spin around, striking his ribs next. The painful sound of his rib cracking forces him to scream out in pain. His legs buckle from the horrendous pain.

“Come, kid, wanna tone it down now?”

“Screw…that…and screw you!”

He comes at me with zero brain activity. Color me impressed. He should have broken rib, and he still wants to fight… Alright, then let’s wrap this thing up. Watchin’ his blade glide through the air, I tighten my grip around the handle, regulatin’ my breathing and easin’ my shoulders. Then, in the blink of an eye, my blade trades a blow with his. The blow provides an immediate result. He loses his dagger and gets knocked down on his ass.

“Get this, kid. No matter how angry you get, you can’t beat me.” I head over to my scabbard, pluckin’ it out the ground. “No matter how you try it, I’m gonna beat you every single time, so let’s stop here, ‘kay?”

The rattlin’ of chains returns my attention to that creepy brat, smilin’ for no reason at all. The chain wrapped around his guidin' bar lies on the floor.

“You’re not an ordinary swordsman,” he states, teemin’ with murderous intent.

“And you’re a creepy lil’ brat.”

“How rude! How can someone as happy as I be called creepy?”

Says it's rude, yet he doesn't really seem all that offended... No two ways about it, this kid has a few screws loose in that noggin of his.

He lifts the chain from the floor, whippin’ it at me. Knockin’ it out of the way makes him swing it right around again. Gotta give credit where it’s due, he has a pretty solid handle on that thing; if I were an average joe, I’d be super dead right about now. Good thing I ain’t. A single stroke of my blade rattles the chain, disturbin' its driving force. I advance, keepin' my sword to the ground as I move. Persistent, he continues to use the chain. Each attempt for my life ends in failure, but this kid rebounds the chain the second I deflect. Closin' in with that weapon in his hands is gonna be a pain in the ass. I shove my scabbard in the chain's link, stabbin' it into the ground. I enhance my legs, accelerating forward at the kid. My shoulder bulldozes into him. Since he couldn’t react, the dude went flyin', crashin’ into a tree.

“Guess that’s that… You, close-eyed kid,” I shout at, watchin’ him stagger to his feet. “...take this kid and leave. I ain’t gonna kill any of you, but you better not mess with someone stronger than you.”

“Stronger?” Hm? He’s still awake? “I want to be stronger… Strong enough to tear all of you to pieces!”

Great, now his Source is growin’ more unstable… At this rate, with how his Source is buildin’, he might find his trigger. Not exactly excited to find out what he’s capable of, so maybe I’ll have to go a lil’ harder on this kid.

“Cade!” Some slides between me and that brat, pointin’ somethin’ at my face. Is that a gun? Looks like total crap, but that looks like a gun. “Get back, or I’ll shoot!”

His face says he means it, but the rest of his body is tellin' a different story.

“Wow, didn’t know this place had weapons like that here.”

“Wha-what are you talkin' about!? Just back up.”

“Whoa, ‘kay, squirt. I’ll back up, slowly.”

As promised, I back up. There’s a couple of other kids here as well, watchin’ me with some pretty nasty looks. Are all these kids soldiers or somethin’ like that?

“Are you a bandit?”

“Nope, can’t say I am.”

“Then why did you hurt Cade!?”

“I kinda…um, can I say I was dragged into this?”

“You…”

His finger traces the trigger. Right when he fired the gun, the sound of it cocking was enough for me to flash my sword out of its scabbard, rending the bullet mid-flight, as well as the large cylinder barrel.

“Wha… How…how did you?”

“I’m pretty damn fast, not to mention I have some sweet-ass reflexes.” I sheathe my sword again. “Well, I’m done here. No point in continuin’ this little hoorah. See ya.”

“Wait, I’m not gonna let you go!”

“Be careful, kid.”

“Huh?”

I crouch in front of him, givin’ ‘em full-on eye contact. “You need to learn your weight class, ‘cause it’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

Gotta cast away my good nature for a second to let it sink in for her. These kids have guts, but it’s gonna take more than that to win a fight, let alone keep yourself breathin’. Though I hate spookin’ kids like this; kinda makes me feel like a dick; though that Proxy brat is a bit of an exception.

“Do you really wanna fight me?”

“What?”

“I said, do you really wanna fight me? Cause I don’t get that from you.”

“You don’t know me!”

“Yeah, you’re right, but I can tell when someone doesn’t have all their heart in somethin’, and this is one of those times.” His hands keep shakin’, edgin’ away from me. “...You hate killing, don’t you?”

The gun slips out of his hand, and his mouth slightly widens. “How…”

“I can tell. You got a good poker face, but your body tells the whole story.”

“Y…you don’t know what you’re talkin' about!”

“Maybe, but it ain’t such a bad thing.” I look at the kid behind her. His Source is still leaking out every which way, tryin' to break free. “That guy behind you. I don’t know what his deal is, but you should probably keep him from fightin’ anymore. If he does, you’ll lose him, I can guarantee that.”

A concerned expression widens his eyes, showin’ a little desperation in the mix. “To what, to an enemy!?”

“To himself.” Well, I better get goin'. Keepin’ my sleep schedule is important, and I really wanna get some shut-eye. “Hope you kids have a good night, and if you care about your friend there, then do what’s best for him. See ya.”

Enhancing my legs, I leap up to the rooftop of a four-story buildin’, liftin' myself on the roof with my foot on the ledge. My head tilts back to the kids, specifically the one pumpin' out his Source…

“That kid…”

I know I said if she stopped him from fightin’, then he would return to normal, but I doubt he can at this point. The way he’s using his Source is odd, and that’s obvious from his lack of awareness. Even if someone has Source, without trainin’, you can’t manipulate your Source like that… Wait, could he have…

“I might want to keep an eye on that kid.”

This churnin’ in my stomach ain’t good, definitely not, and if the worst thought about that kid comes true, then a real shit storm might be comin’.

“Well, whatever. I’m gonna go find me a good stop to sleep on.”

Leapin' from rooftop to rooftop, I keep jumpin’ into the air. The wind pushes down at me while soaring across the sky. Landin’ on the next rooftop is no different from the others. However, I feel this killer sensation, almost like a blade tearin’ through my neck.

“Not again! How long you gonna keep doing this!?”

Clad in metal armor, the moonlight reflects off his silver armor as the wind whistles. Those eyes on his shoulders stare me down, watchin’ me for any sudden movements.

“Man, you don’t know when to give it up, huh?”

“I will ask no more: leave.”

A suit of armor that came out of a fantasy story pushes all his animosity at me, not givin’ a shit about how he looks, and sharin’ no emotion worth jack. He’s just standin’ there, waitin’ for me to get this on.

“Sorry, but you and I know my answer.”

“Of course. Words are meaningless to swordsmen.”

“So you wanted to see if I was up to snuff?” He unsheathes his sword, ignorin’ my guess. “‘Kay, I get it.” I grip mine, feverously bursting out more of my Source, and he responds in kind. “Round 3, start!”

Our swords aim for the other, mine covered in the flowin’, yet powerful waves of the sea, and the silver that holds the moonlight… Damn, now that is poetic!