Zirrilit held her cast to her chest, murmuring slightly at the realization that Mark had called her all the way back out of fear of seeing her injured. They were finished with their exercises and now walking back to the harpy’s room to rest.

Though, if not wanting to watch someone get severely injured wasn’t love, then she truly didn’t know what was.

Her muscular structure was powerful enough that when it swelled it could hold her own bones in place, though she knew from experience that her kin could flick it out of place with little effort. It should have gotten better within a few days even without the assistance.

Mark walked to her left, and they both followed the orcish nurse back through the metallic gray tunnel networks deep beneath the hospital.

The orc was small; she stood head and shoulders above him when she decided to straighten her spine. She could pick him up and tear his head off with her broken arm.

Though he likely had contingencies for just that, as although he wore simple white clothing and an apron, despite the meek appearance of his uniform she had noticed the glints of mail beneath his clothing. He likely had concealed weapons somewhere, and she tried to picture what he would use.

A knife? A gun? There were so many things she didn’t even fully understand. Her people did not have the capability to make even rudimentary structures, not to mention a building that went up dozens of floors that contained an enormous tunnel network beneath the structure.

She understood something called science had been used to create this megastructure. It was a type of magic which relied on long-term preparations and a large industrial base, turning mundane materials into advanced and powerful objects. Usually focused on durability and mass production.

Arcane studies was a completely different variant of magic. It also used long-term preparations requiring a fairly large industrial base, but it focused on individual power. The most advanced forms of arcane studies involved people suddenly conjuring whatever thing they yelled out loud into their hands, but also included crafting objects that did that for you.

Mark could clearly tell the difference between the two, while Zirrilit admitted that she still struggled.

“So what is that?” Zirrilit pointed at the small blue stick the orc was holding.

The orc looked up from his clipboard to answer. “That is a pen.”

Zirrilit tilted her head “How does that work?”

“It uses a small mana control node to direct a powder to the tip and fuse it onto whatever you press it onto.”

“Oh.” Zirrilit nodded, “That makes sense… and it is science?”

“No, that would be arcane manipulation.”

“Oh…” Zirrilit nodded. Pens were made using arcane manipulation. “So then what about that-”

Zirrilit pointed at the small greenish box with a singular antenna clipped onto the orc’s belt.

“That is a radio-” Hans saw her tilt her head and continued, “-it uses an internal battery to create electromagnetic waves which it then emits which other radios can pick up on. If I want to contact a radio that is far away I can bounce the electromagnetic waves off of the atmosphere to reach distant targets.”

“And that is arcane manipulation.” Zirrilit stated confidently.

“No, that would be science based.”

Zirrilit drooped slightly. She understood that for the most part if the object made something go really fast it was science, and if it did something else then it was not science.

Cars? That was science. Guns? Science too.

A small tin that could fit in a human’s palm, which could be used to project a spray that would blind whoever got it in their eyes?

“That would also be made with science.” Hans answered after being presented with the question.

“Okay, so what about when I beam at stuff with my mouth thing?” Zirrilit nosed at him.

Hans thought about it for a moment, “We haven’t fully tested it, but it is currently agreed to most likely be a direct result of a divine blessing. Your body doesn’t seem shaped for a proper light based attack, especially out of the mouth. Fire, acid, poison, or even lightning could be explained as natural phenomena and thus a type of science, actually some creatures do have bioluminescence; it's just that your trachea is curved. And if you could create light beams outside of your body instead of from the inside then it could be some type of innate arcane attack.”

Zirrilit didn’t really understand, but if she spat fire or lightning that was science. If the light came from outside of her body, that would be arcane magic.

But he was also unsure, so Zirrilit understood it could somehow be science, arcane, or divine based.

“So then… How would you test to see which one my breath weapon is?”

If she could learn how to test her own breath weapon, she could apply this to everything else she was seeing.

Hans tapped the back of his pen against his chin. “Well, we would probably do a more detailed survey of your trachea, then put you into a few machines to get a good map of your insides and check for unknown organs. You were resistant to standard x-rays and other such methods, so we might need higher power machines.”

“Did you guys not already check with those?” Zirrilit let genuine surprise creep into her voice.

“Well, we have somewhat of an understanding of your physical power as well as the rough limitations of your breath weapon. The mechanics behind why it works is less relevant since we already know of so many ways we can imitate the same thing. We only really need to study strange abilities we don’t fully understand.”

Mark.

Zirrilit felt a sudden breakthrough, “You can copy my breath weapon, which is probably a divine blessing, using both science and arcane methods?”

“Well, something similar at least.” Hans reasoned. “Laser weaponry isn’t exactly hard to replicate, and something that could be mounted on a ship or a large vehicle would copy what you have.”

So whether it's arcane or a blessing or science is irrelevant.

Zirrilit simply put it out of her mind and decided to focus on what was important.

They exited the elevator, Zirrilit stepping forwards slightly to shoulder past Mark, ensuring she was the person in front who would take any unseen attacks.

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Core was standing beside the elevator. The machine had been told it was not allowed into the basement and it had taken the news with no changes to its expression. Its face almost resembled that of a human, if a human was made of a pale type of steel. The mimicry failed at an inspection of its body, however. It bore thin, claw-like limbs made of a black material and a bare skeleton moving by exposed hydraulics systems. A large portion of it was covered in thinly plated armor looking more like something a necromancer would design than any machine.

It was too good at hiding its thoughts; its facial expressions never changed. The general lack of emotion both in its gestures and its voice made Zirrilit wary.

She knew if it attacked it would give no warning and so she regarded it the same way she regarded doorways.

She turned her head, surveying the hallways. Turning to the left to stare out of a window overlooking the hospital’s inner courtyard, she beheld the gardens down below, filled with flowers of all colors and twisting vines along with the tree in the center that rose from the ground like a monument.

No one was currently watching them.

That was the optimal conclusion. The tint on the windows meant Zirrilit’s current floor was much too high in the air for them to be randomly spotted.

She turned and surveyed the opposite side of the hallway. Rows upon rows of doors leading to their own rooms. Each room unsurveyed, hidden from her view.

Zirrilit repositioned herself to Mark’s right in order to interpose herself between him and any unseen assailant, whether they be assassins or disgruntled drug addicts.

She turned to look into the open room as they passed it, wondering if it had its lights turned off because it was not being used or if it was to keep the room dark so that people could hide within.

The dragonoid smelled nothing other than the cold steel and grease from the machine walking in front of her and the sweat Mark was covered in since he finished his exercises.

Core, Zirrilit noted, required fluid to be implanted along their joints or they would erode as they moved. That same fluid gave off a distinct smell, allowing her to know the machine’s position at all times.

She turned to resurvey the outdoors. The bright flowers and ginormous tree was irrelevant, so she was not drawn into staring at the annoyingly colored vegetation that Mark had been mesmerized by at first sight.

Of all the passing figures, none of them were staring at the floor they were on and so she only spared them a passing glance.

Zirrilit turned again. Every so often the monotony of the hallway would be broken up by a small piece of artwork. Usually a simple painting of an armored figure or some kind of large predatory beast, though oftentimes she would see a potted plant or a small fountain instead.

They turned, and Zirrilit stepped around the corner first as a precaution to intercept any hostiles that happened to be there.

The harpy burn victim’s room was down the hall and she sniffed the air. The ointments the harpy had to cover herself in to help prevent infections and revitalize her damaged tissues could be smelled from down the hall.

The smell of oil, a flowery odor to cover the acrid chemical scent that would cling to the back of your throat, and the cleaning detergent the staff used to wash everything religiously clung to the air at all hours of the day.

The smell of people and industry, with fake smells to cover those up on top of everything. The only scent more pungent than the concoction that plagued the halls was the unmistakable smell of blood.

There was a lack of magically blurred guards. Zirrilit saw a flicker of movement and without thinking she thrust her arm out-

Something embedded itself into Zirrilit’s cast with enough force it twisted her to the side, her claws dug into the ground to arrest her movement and stabilize her.

Mark screamed, Hans pulled out his radio, Core maneuvered in front of Mark, and Zirrilit charged blindly on instinct.

She covered thirty feet in four steps and reached out to slam her arm into the closest assailant only to feel her arm shoot backwards like a repelled magnet.

A shimmering barrier prevented the strike, so Zirrilit leapt eight feet back. The entire exchange happened over mere moments and she took a moment to actually identify her enemies.

Five figures, dark armor, blurred forms-

The hospital’s security forces were attacking them; one of the hostiles raised some form of polearm that she assumed was a staff from beyond the concealing illusion.

That shimmering barrier had repelled her arm, something that could shred steel. It didn’t feel like a solid wall, but rather a similar weightlessness to being thrown. Nothing to fight against as it was a simple repelling force.

Zirrilit opened her mouth and blasted the entire hallway, she closed her eyes to avoid blinding herself and heard the crack of the superheated air exploding as the laser tore from her lips and melted the concrete it hit.

She opened her eyes to see the destroyed hallway and burned artwork, but no corpses.

One peaked through a doorway and fired back at her, Zirrilit felt a heavy impact shell slam into her torso and she was forced backwards despite her grip on the concrete.

The explosion from the shot shattered the nearby windows on her left. She charged once more, hoping to corner the person firing explosives at her, and was blown back again, stumbling forwards into the next shot, which took her off her feet.

Zirrilit started to realize her problem; she was charging headfirst at someone firing some sort of grenade launcher equivalent at her in quick succession.

Her plan of running them down would not work.

She glanced backwards, realizing that there were people behind her. Mark was peaking through a door to her right, hunched behind Core but more importantly dozens of people in white clothing were running down the hall.

Were they enemies or-

A shot tore part of her face open and the blood splattered onto the wall beside her before dribbling out to decorate the ground at her feet.

She felt missing teeth.

Zirrilit launched herself forwards again and once more the same man fired another round. The bolt closed distance but this time fell to the ground inert. She charged the man down and reached to tear him to pieces, her claws scythed through the walls of the doorway but never met his flesh as a purple flicker of energy betrayed some form of teleportation that moved him out of her reach once again.

She crouched, taking a stance that would give her more mobility. Allowing her hands to contact the floor would give her the ability to launch herself in any direction with little to no warning.

Hans slammed a palm into her back and she watched glowing geometrical shapes begin to crawl along her limbs.

Runes. She knew their name but not what they did.

Hans moved his grip to Zirrilit’s shoulder, “Five targets, two in the room ahead, two in room five seventeen and one in five nineteen. Advance to the room ahead, you have ranged resistance- two minutes.”

A second nurse charged up next to Zirrilit and she watched the person raise their arms, one of the fountains that were spaced intermittently throughout the halls emptied itself of water and formed a waist high wall of ice in the middle of the corridor.

More nurses in their white attire lined up behind the cover, opening fire. Zirrilit was stupefied for a moment, watching the warfare tactics that could have only been created by people with the thumbs to use firearms.

Hans pushed at her back, “We need to breach. Head out.”

She shook her head. Distractions. A feeling of guilt sprung up in her stomach as she realized she had paused and stood like an idiot in the middle of an active warzone.

“Got it.” Zirrilit answered before crouching and leaping.

She hit the wall outside of the door and launched herself like a missile off of it.

Before she impacted, she finally saw the true form of her enemies.

Their blurring magical effect had faded and she saw a thin man in black armor pointing a hollow tube– a rifle at her.

He fired, and from this close, with the speed she had reached, the impact struck before the enchantment could stop it, but it didn’t matter. She hit him like a train and broke half the bones in his body and smeared what remained against the opposing wall before she crashed into that and left the wall cracked and broken.

She turned to see Hans slam a club into his assailant. An orc fighting a smaller and more lithe man with the head of a cat.

The orc’s club hit the wall as the cat vanished and leapt out of the orc’s shadow. He dug a knife into the larger orc’s back, as the nurse twisted and tried to slam the specialist to death.

The two were engrossed in a fight and Zirrilit interrupted it by kicking the cat so hard she felt their bones snap.

The second or third kick killed him, but she wasn’t keeping track.

She went back into the hallway and felt a round deflect off of her body. The firing line was keeping the assailants within the rooms. Zirrilit heard the glass shatter as someone entered the nearby room.

Gunshots filled the air and made it difficult to hear, while the smell of blood and smoke blotted out her other senses. She relied on sight alone as Hans put a hand on her shoulder and nudged his head towards the next room. She nodded. They would be breaching, and she was ready.

The firing stopped momentarily, when she turned she saw something strange.

A two foot tall humanoid, its skin color was similar to that of Mark’s but it had stark white hair.

A child? Albino? The thoughts raced past her mind.

Zirrilit looked down at the small hairy child, and tilted her head. Hans slammed his club forwards and Zirrilit pushed her own claw out to block the attack.

She reached down her other arm, ready to cover the bearded kid who had wandered into a battlefield as the gnome pointed a small twig at her.

The force of the blow sent her sprawling into the opposing wall; she felt herself being lifted off of the ground and scrounged for any handhold she could find, flailing about like a panicking animal.

The gnome held a hand out, then flicked his fingers down the hall and she felt herself suddenly flying at great speeds.

She crashed into the ice barrier and felt it crumble under her. The people around her barely had time to register the problem before a ball of fire crashed into Zirrilit and detonated.

The magical flames burned at her, so hot that it melted the concrete and turned the air into a black cloud of tar-like air that burned her lungs. The very force was enough that she felt her bones scream for a moment.

She barely registered the severed limb and bits of crumpled metal that splattered onto her as she stood up again shaking the remains of what had been a wall of riflemen providing covering fire.

Her weight quadrupled, and though she was scarcely effected, the walls cracked and crumpled inward. The sudden increase in gravity left her unable to dodge out of the way before the concrete pinned her in place.

Finally, she saw the gnome for what it was. A magically attuned race with a small profile, while Zirrilit’s size allowed her an increased strength and constitution it also rendered her more easily targeted by ranged attacks.

Even as she lay unable to move she pondered what he had that made him dangerous.

At a large distance, so long as the gnome had a weapon that did not rely on strength, the gnome’s size was superior. It would be much more difficult to hit someone that was about a fourth of the size of a human.

She struggled to breathe, he was crushing her now. The concrete was reforming into one solid piece and squeezing her from all sides like a giant stone fist. The dragonoid opened her mouth to use her breath weapon and the stone around her stretched out to clamp it shut.

The deathworlder was suffocating mere feet from the gnome, she struggled pushing her arms and legs out and finding no purchase.

Then she saw Mark leap out of the doorway to her right and slam his shovel into the side of the gnome’s head hard enough to nearly cleave it in half.

The tiny figure crumbled like a small puppet and Zirrilit felt the stone loosen ever so slightly.

Zirrilit tried to cheer and managed to let out a small squeak before she lost consciousness.