“Damn it…” I muttered to myself as I rubbed my eyes.
“That makes twelve people we’ve interviewed now,” Hob said, huffing in displeasure.
I nodded, looking around the massive training hall of the Dynamo Cog, where all the Energy Controller fluxborn, the Codebreakers, the Magdrivers, and the Chargecasters of the guild lived.
At the far end of the room, I could see a group of Breakers competing to hack a set of test machines the fastest. The middle and most significant chunk of the hall was taken over by two groups of Drivers. They appeared to belong to the same sports team, all dressed in yellow-scaled outfits and were tossing and catching half a dozen metal spheres of various sizes without touching them.
Some would use their powers to send a metal sphere careening at other spheres to deflect them; some tried to directly shoot them between the poles that constituted each opposing team’s goal, but they appeared to be evenly matched.
“These are the infamous Yellow Mambas?” I asked a vaguely familiar Caster who was walking by. Like most Chargecasters, the man had a pale complexion and was wiry thin. He stared at me, slightly slack-jawed, glanced at the two groups of men and women practicing and gave me a twitchy nod.
“Um, yes,” he hummed hesitantly, a musical lilt to his words as if he was singing along to a melody only he could hear. Because he was. “The quarter-finals of this year's cup are heating up quite a bit, what with a non-sponsored or Clan team like them getting this far. Everyone else is gunning for them, so we’ve been helping them as much as possible. Us independents gotta stick together, right?” He gave me a wide grin.
I nodded and smiled at the familiar words. His last sentence was one that I repeated to others many times in the past. “Damn right. You have a nice song, by the way. Reminds me of a raindrop falling through smoke to land on a leaf.” I told him.
He blinked at me, and his smile widened. “So, you know our customs. Curious, you don’t look to belong to the circle. Most others tend to avoid thinking about us, let alone learning about proper etiquette.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully while he looked at me up and down as if searching for something. “My name is Sothog, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance once more, Razel the Rust Reaver. Your voice has no song, yet it sings nonetheless. I can hear the sound of bullets.” His eyes went a little unfocused. “Blood on metal. Rust flaking off. A crackling of… fate. Death. Pain. Freedom. War. ” He trailed off, his gaze completely empty. Every Caster I’d ever met had the tendency to zone out on occasion, too focused on the unique song every single one of them could hear, but this one was the strangest I’d ever met by far.
I squinted at him suspiciously, his cryptic words sending a chill down my spine. Nobody had identified who I was until now. I purposefully put the open offer forward as Razel Ibicas, trying to slightly obscure who I used to be. I wanted competence, not people looking to ride the coattails of a long-gone legend.
“Once more? We’ve met before? And what did you mean with all that?” I said, breaking him out of his strange reverie, as with a twitch, he returned to the present.
Sothog smiled and nodded. “You and Sister Silver rescued me when I was but a child of 13 from a gang. The Maulers of the Fourth Quadrant, they used to call themselves.”
I grimace with distaste, remembering that mission. “Ah, I remember now. How are you and your… ‘siblings’ faring?”
“As well as can be expected,” he said with a smile. “Seven years have been enough for us to mostly break out of the codependency they had ingrained in us, and we’ve all found new families and new friends amongst our fellow Fluxborn. We still keep in touch, though.”
“That’s good,” I said with a soft smile. Silver and I had found Sothog and his ‘siblings,’ a group of nine terrified fluxborn children, kidnapped and brainwashed into considering themselves a family unit, clinging to each other, shivering in the cold, sterile room of the Mauler compound seven years ago. Had the Orphanage not hired us to investigate the disappearances, who knows what would have become of that fucked up experiment. “I’m glad we found you, and you are now thriving.”
Sothog winced and laughed awkwardly, running his hand through his short, curly hair. “Some of us more than others. Rota, the eldest one,” he glanced at me, seeing I didn’t recognize the name, “Dark-skinned boy with a shaved head, the lodestone.” Ah, that one! “Yeah, he’s…” Sothog cleared his throat. “He was with the Maulers the longest. The programming runs deep. He’s still obsessive and extremely possessive with us, but he’s slowly learning to let go.”
I could see Sothog’s mood take a nosedive, “I’m sure Rota will be fine. He has you watching over him. You’ve grown to be a fine man.” He gave me a shaky smile, took a deep breath, straightened, and nodded at me proudly. I extended my right hand and nodded at him. “But please, don’t let me keep you any longer from your training. It was good to see you.” at the same time, I sent him my contact details. “And let's keep in touch.”
He accepted the contact details and sent his back to me, clasping my hand simultaneously. Right before our hands touched, I saw an arc of dark purple energy spring from his hand and connect to mine. The jolt of electricity caused both of us to jump and take a step back from each other.
Sothog looked down at his hand, now crackling with purple lightning, and gaped. “I… My apologies.” He focused hard on his hand, and the electricity disappeared. He glanced around worriedly.
“What is it?” I asked him, alarmed at his own alarm.
He hesitated before speaking. “The other Casters are still very wary of my powers. If anyone saw what just happened, I’m in deep trouble.”
I glanced around, seeing that nobody was paying attention to us. “Well, you’re in the clear. Why are they so worried?”
He hesitated, but something in his eyes hardened with resolve and… trust? “The commonly accepted rule is that the lighter colored your lightning, the more power and the more destructive it is. The vast majority of people have blue lightning. Some rare and powerful individuals have yellow. I alone have purple. And despite my lightning being amongst the darkest, it holds far greater destructive power than it should. It is also far more unstable and hard to control.” He sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark blue trousers.
“I spent four years earning the control certification when most do it in two.” He glanced around again. “If someone had seen that, it might have gotten my certification revoked.” He turned to me, his face paling and expression filling up with shame. “Oh, Rings. I’ve been talking about myself this entire time. My deepest apologies. Did I hurt you? Are you alright?” He asked in a rush.
I glanced at my HP and my MP, expecting to see my HP missing a couple of points, but both bars were full. “I’m as healthy as one can be,” I told him reassuringly. “It merely tickled.”
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He looked down at my unscathed hand and then back up at my face, confused. “Oh. I. Huh. Good. Good!” he said, confusion giving way to joy. “This is the first time someone was struck by my lightning and didn’t start screaming in pain. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m not gonna look a Priest in the face as he passes me by,” he said and sighed with relief.
I nodded and patted him on the shoulder, the man flinching slightly at the touch, but when no more lightning came, he relaxed. “Don’t worry about it, go do your training, we’ll talk later, yeah? I’ll be here for a while longer 'cause I’m recruiting for a mission.”
He hesitated at the last sentence and opened his mouth to say something but seemed to decide against it, shaking his head with a smile and waving at me as he walked off to join a group of Casters around a complicated-looking machine.
A Caster was grasping two metal rods sticking out of the machine, one in each hand, and glancing rapidly to either side of him. To his right was a display with a bar randomly going up and down. To his left was another display with a bar, seemingly controlled by the Caster. Whenever the one on the right would jump up, the spectators would cheer him to give it more juice. Whenever the bar dipped low, they would urge him to ease off. In the middle was a display that had a point counter on it. The faster the Caster responded to matching the right bar, the more points he gained.
Huh, that was quite a clever way to make a game out of training. But, enough gawking. “Hob, what happened?” I asked my companion as I exited the training hall.
“I am not sure, sir,” Hob said, deep in thought. “But something did happen. You have this alert.” He said and waved his hand, a window opening and moving with me as I walked towards the stairs.
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[OMEGA DETECTED]
Compatibility: 32%
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I stared at the unhelpful red notification before waving it away. “More and more questions. Once Aren is safe, you and I need to sit down and figure some shit out.” I grumbled.
Hob nodded solemnly. “That we do, sir.”
I reached the stairs and glanced at them. I was on the middle floor of the Energy Gear.
Every Energy Controller Fluxborn I had interviewed thus far had been a dud. Most were just not up to the task. Some saw that I was offering four [Ruby Tokens] and thought I was some naive tourist from the Middle Ring, ripe for the swindling. I disabused them of that notion promptly.
Taking the stairs leading up would take me to the Alchemia Cog, where a large number of Fluxborn whose powers revolved around Material Manipulation, Dissolvers, Ringshapers, and Metalweavers were waiting for an interview.
Taking the stairs down would take me to the Vitalis Cog. Only a handful of the Fieldsensers, Lodestones, and Ironcoats that lived there showed any interest in the mission, but they all seemed interesting.
I stood there for several moments, trying to decide where to go, before throwing my hands up in frustration.
“Screw it. After a dozen disappointments and getting zapped, I need a break and, more importantly, lunch.” I said as I started stomping down the stairs. I ignored the floors of the Vitalis Cog as I descended down to the Leisure Cog.
In a sullen mood, I walked to the nearest open bar and found an empty table. It was busy but not full, and a digital singer was on the stage, giving the place a nice ambiance. I plopped down with a grunt and waved at a waiter. “Can I get uh... The house special?” I asked, “And a glass of beer, please. Give me the mid-range stuff. Something light and sweet that pairs well with the food.”
The waiter nodded and tapped on his tablet. A few moments later, he returned with a plate of barbeque ribs with fries, steamed veggies, and a glass of pale blond beer.
“Is it really alright to drink that?” Hob asked worriedly.
I waved his concerns away. “I genuinely enjoy the taste. Thanks to you, I feel no compulsion to drink myself into oblivion. I’ll just have this one glass and then get back to it. It won’t be enough to get me even close to tipsy.” I thought to him as I dug into the ribs. The meat was tender and delicious. Terra, bless whatever chef came up with this recipe.
Within minutes, only bones remained on the plate, and I leaned back, patting my belly with a satisfied sigh. I used a terminal integrated into the table to connect to my Novas, opened the list of applicants, and refreshed it. The list grew larger in the few hours I spent in the Dynamo Cog. I snorted at a man asking for all four tokens, dismissing his application without dignifying it with a second glance. Anyone with enough power and confidence to tackle a seven and eight mission on his own, without even knowing what the mission is, would be someone I knew the name of. That everyone would know the name of. And his, I did not.
“Sorry, Glonthorth, but attaching an image of your place on the Ironcoat lifting leaderboard under the nickname Sleepywinner578 doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.” The man wasn’t even in the top 200. “Kudos for the ego, though.” I chuckled to myself.
I deleted the people I had already interviewed and those asking for more than two tokens. The shorter list was still intimidating to behold. Especially since I had no plan and I was going by vibes at the moment.
Then, everything came to a standstill as my Novas pinged. A message had arrived, and a new symbol appeared in the top right of my vision. A golden, closed padlock encased in a bubble. I knew what that meant. I clicked the notification for the message I had waited half a day for.
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[Message Recieved]
Mr. Ibicas,
I am most pleased to receive your reply. You Outer Ringers have a tendency to die so easily that I had entertained the possibility of your expiration.
No matter, we shall meet at a club named “Neon Gridlock” in three days. Come at midnight, alone. You will walk up to the VIP balcony, hand over the item, and receive the child.
After that, whether you leave with just the child or a happy, wealthy, powerful man is up to you.
Regards,
Ignatius Toriklas
“This message will self-delete in 60 seconds”
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[System Enforced Protection Order]
You are unable to be harmed by anyone. Only an official member of the Ecclisiarchy can prematurely remove this buff.
Time Remaining: 64 Hours and 24 Minutes
“Be blessed, for you are safe under my care.”
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Ugh, even the way he sent messages pissed me off. And that buff gave me the creeps. But at least now I had a location and protection. Finally, I could start coming up with a plan. But first, a drink.
I looked at the beer, untouched, and hesitated. I remembered the days I spent in a stupor, all of them starting with one drink. I steeled myself. Hob had solved this issue. I was in control once more. Aren needed me. I could enjoy a beer and leave it to one drink. I could do it.
I raised the glass to my lips, the beer's aroma giving me goosebumps. I wasn’t sure if they were good goosebumps or bad. But I powered through. I took a big gulp of the beer.
“What are you drinking? It smells nice.” Whispered Zuri in my left ear.
I turned to find her face an inch away from mine.
“PFFTBWGUGAH!” I eloquently replied as I spat out my beer all over her face and gracefully fell out of my seat, my head hitting the metal floor with a thump.