It was finally time.

Beneath a sky I couldn't lay eyes on, I walked through abandoned streets. The sun shone down on the world below, creating long shadows born from the shells of buildings that had long since been discarded by the people of Divastyr. It was a surprisingly calm and clear day, given what was to come.

The rays of light covered nearly everything in sight, making the surrounding area easy to see. Though among everything within my zone, the easiest thing to see by far was me. The Don wouldn't be unhappy with that, I was sure.

The silver coating all along my mech's form glinted in the light, shining brightly in the early afternoon sun. My 'costume' had turned my dark grey mech of mixed metals into a gleaming bastion that looked far more eye-catching than the cobbled together 'mech' I'd formed from the cage I'd woken up in after my rebirth.

The true mech was beneath the 'costume', cleaned and easy to present. The worn metal had been polished, oiled, and scrubbed free of dirt. It was only after layers of caked mud and mushy snow that had been mashed into the metal had sloughed off that I realised just how dirty my form had been. Even that squeaking noise I'd noticed had vanished. The motions of my mech were sleeker and all but silent now, even if that wasn't going to improve my stealth capabilities given that I was shining like a [Light] Spell in the sun's glow.

My helmet had also been covered by my 'costume'. While it retained the Street Snail shell pattern of spirals along the brain-like shape that the bronze helmet beneath still had, it gleamed a shining emerald now. The colour of my Aera. It was a nice touch, and one I'd been very fond of once Debby had presented it.

On the 'knees' of each leg, where the joints allowed for movements, I'd gotten extra plating designed to help support the weight of the 'cage' portion. On each knee plate was the symbol of our organisation, a five pointed lavender colour star with darkened tips. It was one nice touch among many, but it paled in comparison to the aspect of the 'costume' I liked the most.

The bronze rose at the front of my mech had been changed. The leaves beneath the rose itself were violet, much like the stars now applied to each leg. It was the rose that had led me to give Debutante true credit after she'd presented it.

The 'rose' was split into two halves. On the left was a white pattern with blue edges, with small, dark grey craters along the surface, while the right half was orange with a yellow outline, one with a misty pattern to it, as though distorted by heat. The top of the 'sun' half pushed into the upper section of the rose, while the bottom of the 'moon' half invaded the lower section. Pushing and pulling against one another, the equilibrium between night and day.

Equinox.

The patterns were beautiful. I was almost upset at the thought that I was going into battle 'wearing' all of this, given that it was likely the 'costume' would get stained. I'd felt a little bad using all of this material for my little idea, and I felt heavier as a result, but Debutante hadn't been bothered. Despite the cost all of this must have been, I'd learned that money wasn't something she cared about. As long as she got the results, that was all she wanted.

She was one of those people. The type that prioritised level growth above all else.

I'd had my doubts, but as eccentric and pushy as Debutante was, her skills were the real thing. That, and she'd managed to flesh out four full costumes and facilitate my little idea in the time it took for our morning preparation to come around. It was... astounding, given the level of craftsmanship needed. Even if she was a Lich that didn't need sleep, to be able to manage something like this in how little time she had, it was beyond impressive. It was something to aspire towards.

Now that my idea was set in place through my 'costume', I was stronger. The extra weight of it all did nothing to hamper me. It was reassuring. With this, my options had grown. I might even be ready to fill in for... for Toya's role in the team, now that he was gone. My toolbox had expanded, and I was feeling ready for anything.

Between the excitement I felt now and the anxious fear still rolling around within me, I feared that I'd be pushed towards taking action faster than I needed to. The warring feelings rolling around inside me were dying to be let out, to be expressed. Still, as much as these feelings tried to cloud my judgement, I had to remain cautious. Now more than ever, I needed to keep a level head.

I was standing in the midst of a street I'd never seen before. It was in the slums, not far from the sewer entrance where we'd first entered Divastyr. This was further to the west, closer to the 'Death District'. I was in position, and all of my tools and gifted supplies were resting firmly within me.

One of those tools was a rounded golden gemstone sitting snugly within my compartment. The others were given one each, too. They were all connected by Screen's magic, an artefact that formed a communication [Network] between the holders, as well as being capable of summoning a [Light Screen] with a map that those taking part in the operation could follow.

I was glad that I didn't need to pull the gemstone out of my compartment to use it, given my zone's advantages over standard senses, but it wasn't like the lack of visible light would help me hide, anyway. This '[Network]' was a long range variant of the [Message] Spell that allowed all of us to speak and coordinate over a distance. It wasn't an easy Spell to manage, or so Shafu had told me, especially over entire street blocks with many people connected to it. Still, Screen wasn't the secretary of the Star for nothing. We could trust her with this.

There were 'Chimen' here too. The word had come up back at the meeting, but I hadn't thought anything of it. I'd suspected they were some form of artefact, but that wasn't the case at all. They were living creatures.

The 'Chimen' were small, gold coloured balls with tiny pinprick black eyes. They had a small pair of Fly-like wings beating quickly enough to blur in the face of sight that wasn't as precise as my zone. They reminded me of depictions in books I'd seen of Pixies and glamoured Faeries as a child.

Two of them were following me around, and more than once they'd gotten very close to my body. I suspected that they were either drawn to the silver of my mech's 'costume', or worse, they were easily drawn in by shiny objects. Given that they were the catalyst that allowed the Don to record the fights, I hoped they wouldn't be so easily distracted later. If they were being controlled, I hoped the Crown Caster or artefact had a more firm grasp on their movements when the time for battle came.

Now, it was only a matter of time before-

"[Members of the Velvet Star. Do you hear me?]"

The voice was familiar, but came with a slight echo. The words were injected straight into my mind with no outside sensory output that my zone had detected. It was... a little jarring. Was this what other people felt when I spoke to them?

"[I hear you, Screen,]" I responded, speaking through the [Network] Screen had created, rather than using [Telepathy]. It wasn't a difficult switch to make.

For a few moments, the silence dragged on. Was she waiting for the others to respond to her? I'd been hoping to hear their voices sounding off to help steady my rolling emotions, to remind me of the allies that would be fighting alongside me, but they never came.

"[It's nearly show time, everyone,]" came the smooth voice of the Don, voice brimming with barely concealed anticipation. "[Advance slowly with [Insight] active and keep your eyes open for traps. Ensure you follow the route laid out to you on the map. If you have anything to report, do so, but keep your reports tight and precise. All responses will be filtered through Screen, and will only be passed on to myself or other members of the operation if necessary. That is all. Move out.]"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. Maybe the Chimen had picked it up, but I hadn't thought about it. The action was reflex at this point.

I activated [Insight], sending the 'lens' of magic through my [Sensory Zone] as the world took on a new shade of colour, with thin mists appearing throughout my vision. Ambient Aera, and the Aera given off by the Souls of small insects and animals.

The slow, steady walk towards the enemy base began as I pushed through the streets, my reinforced legs easily traversing the cracked, uneven ground.

Walking through this place brought feelings to the fore, familiar feelings that carried with them the memories of our first time here. Entering a place we'd never been in, not wanting to be discovered, knowing that potential enemies could lurk around every corner, and an ever present, pervasive feeling of being alone.

I wasn't truly alone, not with my allies in streets nearby and connected through the [Network], but that piece of logic wasn't enough to fight back the irrational beast that was my rampant emotional state.

This close to the enemy base, there were no stragglers. No homeless people or wandering, desperate orphans, no [Muggers] or [Thieves]. Just... silence.

The buildings around here were a little different. They were empty shells, just like the others, but carried more... weight. Signs of old battles that had never been cleaned away lined the walls and pathways I passed by. Pools of dried blood. Long gashes on walls. Huge piles of rubble and buildings half collapsed, some falling so far as to have crushed the walls of the buildings next to them. Some of the rubble even spilled onto the street, making the climb over or around them a hassle, yet I stuck to the route.

As much as sights and hazards like these might have deterred others, some couldn't care less. While sapient life avoided this long dead place, it was the perfect breeding ground for Rats, insects, and other small animals and weaker monsters that called this place home. They subsisted on moss, rotten excess from the time of this region's hayday, and one another. They were all devoid of the fear and understanding of what this place represented as they eked out a meagre life.

This place was far from the extravagant and well kept gardens within the estate surrounding our own base. Perhaps these people didn't have the manpower, time, or abilities to clean up the region surrounding their warehouses and direct territory. Perhaps they kept it like this on purpose, as a reminder of all that had happened before, or as a way to scare and deter those that would enter their territories to challenge them.

Or maybe they just didn't care enough to keep anything beyond their living spaces clean. I didn't know, and in the end, it didn't matter. Our objective was the same. We needed to beat them. They needed to be taken down for the Velvet Star to regain control over the Sova region.

My body stopped moving mid-step out of reflex. My [Honed Vision] snapped my attention to a glint that had just entered my vision at the very edge of my zone, one along a broken down street far ahead of me. We were getting close.

"[Report. I've detected a thin tripwire in the middle of the street further ahead, about knee height for an average adult Humanoid,]" I said, thanking the Gods that I sounded normal, refined, and not nearly as giddy with the baffling mixture of anticipation and fear as I felt.

"[Magical or mundane?]" Screen asked, her voice echoing lightly within my head.

I continued walking forward, spreading my zone into the surrounding buildings as more tripwires came into view. They were all connected to small catapult-like contraptions carrying sharpened metal stakes and what I presumed to be smoke bombs. Others were connected to bells. None of them were glowing, nor adorned with magical runes that shone through my [Insight]. They might've been altered in some imperceptible way by Skills, but that was unlikely. Hidden as they were from [Insight], they couldn't escape my [Sensory Zone].

"[Mundane. Several traps designed to harm, and others attached to bells,]" I reported. Was this all they could make, or all they were bothered to make? I could've done better myself.

"[Good. I'm going to wait for reports from the others,]" she told me. "[If they find similar traps, we'll trip them simultaneously from a safe distance for maximised effect.]"

Screen... She was in full business mode now. Compared to the casual, carefree person she'd been during our first meeting and during our visit to the restaurant, she was practically unrecognisable. She was able to seamlessly switch between formal and friendly at a moment's notice. I really envied her for that.

I waited idly in the streets, watching some insects as I slowly approached the traps, moving at a casual pace. The world moved on around us, uncaring about this mission or the lengths we were taking to coordinate. It was-

"[Now. Trigger the traps at range.]"

My 'costume' split to allow my compartment enough room to fly off. With the help of my [Telekinesis], four of my metallic hands, all coated in my silvery 'costume', flew forth from within. The others had been given some of Fareel's Familiars to trip these traps at range, but I hadn't needed them. I could manage this much on my own.

The sharpened nails on one hand were pointed forward as it cut through the air, slicing through multiple tripwires as it flew around rubble and debris. The sound of chiming bells and ringing alarms filled the air as metal spikes whizzed past my hand, all effortlessly dodged with the help of my zone's awareness.

I began to walk forward, uncaring of the smoke and gas released by the traps. None of it could affect me, given that I couldn't breathe. It didn't even hamper my ability to see.

The echoing sound of more alarms triggering in the distance rang out, punctuated by the flashes of [Release] used throughout the region, blowing away clouds of smoke as they rose into the air or were dispersed into streets within my vision.

They weren't the only sounds I heard. Gruff yelling pierced my zone, too. Not the sound of ours, but of the enemy. I continued forward, moving quickly now as I worked to pinpoint the source of the sound. Heavy footsteps and the sound of jangling metal armor became audible as I moved forward.

"[Proceed,]" the Don ordered, even if I was already way ahead of him. "[When you see the grafted warehouses bearing their emblem, stop and wait for further instructions.]"

I forged ahead, making good time as my zone soaked up everything it could. It was then that I saw a warehouse in use. Not the 'grafted' warehouse that the Don mentioned, but the ones that Streiphen had reported stealing from, back while we were staying in Dronrowth. Outside of the warehouses, I saw them, a cluster of Orcs wielding large weapons in heavy metal armor, chattering amongst themselves. The enemy.

"[I've found Orcs standing guard outside the warehouses designed for storage. Should I engage or disable them?]" I asked, the thought coming quickly. If it was just Goons like these, I could dispatch them quickly. Stealth wasn't necessary anymore, either.

"[No need,]" Screen responded. "[Continue moving, but remain aware of your surroundings.]"

"[Understood,]" I said back, feeling surprisingly pleased with the swift, clear communication. As haphazard and irritating as the Don's plan was, I couldn't fault his smooth execution. No... I shouldn't get distracted by that. I needed to remain on guard. If this plan went poorly, I wanted to be ready for that.

Having continued through the broken streets and ruined rubble for little over two more minutes, I arrived.

Their base was in sight now, and I understood exactly what the Don had meant by 'grafted warehouses'.

The base itself simultaneously was and wasn't a single building. Instead, it looked as though three separate warehouses had their side walls destroyed and magically reformed to attach to one another. The spaces between the warehouses had walls that were smooth in ways that suggested they were magically formed, rather than by hand and Skill. The shoddy work of a [Geomancer's] Earth Magic, maybe.

Three sets of doorways led into the warehouse(s), all guarded by squads of Orcs, watched over by a massive symbol of an Orc's head haphazardly spray painted above the double doors of the central building.

I waited in a side street, crouching down in an alleyway big enough to hold me as I expanded my zone. I didn't need direct line of sight to see what they were doing. Lots of Orcs were arriving from side streets, approaching the guards with worry and irritation in the curl of their mouths and the cold mist huffing from their snouts. They were passing on the message from the other warehouses and outposts, explaining the situation at hand. One Orc at the central entrance nodded, allowing a collection of Orcs that had arrived here to enter the main building. I couldn't see inside it without getting closer and revealing my location, but I was able to observe plenty from here.

All around me, I saw more people arriving. Not Orcs, but people in costumes and armor. Familiar, yet different. People I'd seen every day since I'd joined the group I now called my own, now prepared and ready for battle.

Some stuck out to me more than others, those that were in uniforms and costumes that were freshly made and still adjusting to the bodies of those wearing them.

The members of Equinox.

Streiphen stood tall with a smile on his face, hopping over a small pile of rubble to take refuge in a ruined building. He wore a sky blue jacket that seemed far lighter than his previously worn puffy coat. The inside was lined with white fur, keeping him warm with less weight to hold him down. The back of the jacket was dotted with silver stars surrounding the Velvet Star's logo. Silver lines linked the stars, looking like a constellation with the lavender star in the center, a daytime sky with everything laid bare. The jacket was unzipped at the front, with a similarly coloured blue shirt and looser black pants beneath. It suited him. His weapon was on his back, polished and sharpened. He looked proud of it all.

While he didn't have the Velvet Star visor quite yet, he had a metallic black eye-mask. He tiptoed to the wall closest to the base, leaning to the side to peer out an empty doorway at the base. I didn't want to do anything to ruin his confidence or concentration, and so I didn't have the heart to tell him that his horn would be visible and sticking out. I figured it didn't matter, given that the enemy knew we were here already.

Fareel was predictably happy with his uniform, even if I'd had my reservations about it. He wore a skin-tight wetsuit, one that was a deep blue with a pattern that matched the rest of his scales. Flaps lined the arms and legs, allowing his fins to poke out freely. Debutante had made the argument that it made him 'blend in', especially for underwater missions, but I'd brought up what I'd believed was an obvious oversight in that the outfit blended with his skin too well. If one wasn't looking closely enough, it would seem as though he was completely naked. I understood the logic behind it, but Fareel had been cackling happily, overjoyed at the idea.

I'd tried to distract myself, thinking about how Debutante must have been able to work with rubber and other materials too if she could craft that, even if thread was her specialty. Anything was better than knowing Fareel had gotten his... fashion of choice, even if it had been in a roundabout way.

He took a deep breath, his chest swelling as the wetsuit expanded with it. A swathe of transparent eggs tumbled out of his mouth as he retched, producing more of his... Fareelings? His Familiars. Still, I couldn't help but notice they seemed a little... bigger? They looked different in a way I couldn't easily discern. I watched as he idly swatted at one of the Chimen hovering around him, pushing it away with the back of his webbed hand as it flew too close to his eggs.

The one who looked the most different wasn't Streiphen, or Fareel, or even me.

The one who'd changed the most was Sigura.

The Nekari Halfblood stood tall, leaning against a wall in a form-fitting skin-tight orange outfit. The suit covered her entire body in a smooth material that hugged her form, with golden coloured pads at her shoulders and knees. Golden metal 'claws' extended from each finger and toe, but curled up as she clenched her fists. The back of her suit was marked with the Velvet Star, one surrounded by a golden circle akin to the sun.

Two round golden patches of thinner fabric marked her eyes, alongside many small golden 'dots' around her nose and mouth, presumably to help with her breathing. Two protrusions stuck up from the top of her head, both in the shape of her Cat-like ears, with a thinner blonde portion at the front to let sound through. Three sets of golden 'claw marks' lined her cheeks too, in the same spot as the natural marks on her face. There were some holes in the uniform too, a small round circle for her long tail to snake out from, and a larger one around the back of her head, allowing her long, spiky golden mane to spill out of.

With her back against the wall and looking completely at ease within the costume, she looked professional, dangerous, and... impressive. Her head was slightly turned to the side, allowing her to see the warehouse past a shard of broken glass by a window.

Alongside every member of the Star that arrived in adjoining streets came two or three Chimen, all hidden with them inside buildings and around corners, providing new perspectives for the Don and his recordings.

Up ahead, more Orcs began to spill out of the grafted base, weapons drawn and extended, eyes darting side to side as they worked to keep watch for threats.

One of the Orcs that stepped out held an axe in one hand, and a red megaphone in the other. The artefact was enchanted with a sound amplifying rune, one with an open mouth and lines extending out from it. It was a common design for such a rune, although this particular version had a pair of thick tusks poking up from the bottom lips. Resting around his head was a small black earpiece shaped like an Orc's head, a goofy design reminiscent of the spray painted symbol overlooking the spacious area. I saw his eyes turn towards the artefact within his ear as he listened intently to the sound produced from within.

He brought the artefact to his mouth, and I caught a brief flash of pinkish Aera rise from his hand and into the device.

"Invaders! I speak on behalf of Big Tooth!" the Orc's voice bellowed. The sound was abnormally gruff sounding, although I couldn't tell if that was his normal voice, the result of a Skill meant for intimidation, or just a side effect of the megaphone's rune.

He was speaking on behalf of Big Tooth. Not the organisation, but the leader. It was something the Don had clarified beforehand. It was a little confusing, but not something I'd never heard of. Some people in the south had named their teams and organisations after their Epithets too. It wasn't such an outlandish thing. A little egotistical maybe, but Casters all needed to be, to some extent. It was in their nature.

"We know you're hiding somewhere around here! Come out and face us!" he yelled.

"[Step into view, but don't approach them. Block or deflect projectiles with [Release] if need be,]" the Don advised.

I rose from my crouch, stepping out from within the alley as the sun once again caught the gleam of my silvery 'costume'. Streiphen stepped out of the building, as did Fareel, his group of Fareelings following behind him like a cluster of Ducks with their mother. Sigura hopped out of the window frame, sitting on the ledge as her clawed hand snapped off the piece of glass she'd been looking through, weaving it between her fingers. Even with the outfit obscuring her face, I could see the outline of her toothy smile.

The Orcs only grew more guarded as our allies stepped into view, moving out from within their hiding places.

"Greetings, people of Big Tooth. I am Don Giovanni Romano, leader of the Velvet Star," came the projected sound of the Don's smooth voice. One of my allies must have been holding out the golden gem that Screen had given to physically project the sound. "I'm sure you all understand why we are here."

The Orc with the megaphone said nothing, glancing around worriedly as he waited for a response from the earpiece.

"You... You are making a mistake," the Orc spoke, his voice losing some of the energy it had held before. "This is your last chance to back away now and not make any further mistakes, you small, arro-arrogant man."

"You have two choices," the Don continued, unruffled. "You may stand down peacefully, an option I am giving you out of courtesy, one I give to all who have earned it in one way or another, or you may engage us in battle and go down fighting for what you believe in."

I didn't need to have precognitive powers, nor levels in the [Oracle] or [Prophet] Classes to know what their answer would be. It was painfully obvious, a formality done only for the Chimen.

"We will fight," the Orc responded simply, losing the bit of fear that had seeped into his voice after a deep breath. "The Velvet Star had their chance to protect this territory. You gave it up when you decided to run and hide, when the people needed you most. We'll fight to keep this territory that we've earned."

"You sat in an empty throne and called it your own," the Don replied. "It's an easy thing to do, taking charge after the threat had already left. We stood up against the Disciples when they arrived to minimise damage. We saved the lives of those even in enemy groups for the sake of Divastyr's unity. Can you say the same, Big Tooth?"

"You... You did it for favours and deals alone, not out of goodwill," the Orc said, his voice becoming lower.

"Yet it was still more than any of you did. Your group came together out of necessity, not out of ambition, drive, or dreams. For that reason, we have a greater desire to win, and superior Casters."

The Orcs grew angry at the suggestion as [Mantles] flared up all along their side, blanketing the warehouse behind them in a blending tide of colour.

"We... We will not let the likes of you steal what we have earned!" the Orc declared.

"Then I hope you are ready to defend it," the Don finished.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"[Step forward. Handle the Goons as you go, support one another, and attempt to orchestrate duels with your designated opponents. Afterwards, work on taking down the remaining Goons and stalling others that seek to disrupt the duels of your allies. I look forward to seeing how you all perform,]" the Don said, his voice echoing in my mind, and the minds of those around me.

"[Go.]"

With that single word, our forces advanced. Our Casters and Goons stepped forward, [Mantles] glowing on all sides brighter than the sun's light. Coloured shadows blended with one another on the walls, weaving tapestries of mixed shades and hues that possessed greater complexity and variation than that of the Goons against us. It spoke only of the sheer difference in strength between the two sides.

There were Goons among our ranks too, some that sought the spotlight and Experience that would come from a battle like this. They'd arrived in small squads, following behind some of our Caster allies.

As we stepped forward into the open space before the Big Tooth's grafted base, the enemy advanced, a wall formed of meat, metal, and [Mantles].

The compartment on the side of my mech opened once again, allowing eight hands covered in the same silvery 'costume' as my body to fly out, balling into fists. They flew forward, colliding with blades, armor, and faces. I could have exerted more pressure, but this would be a battle of attrition. I needed to conserve all the energy I could. There was no need to use [Heated Steel] or [Sheen], not yet.

Not for them.

As the blade swung off his back, I saw Streiphen sneak a glance at me, the stars in his eyes visible within the holes of his face mask.

"[I'm here. If you need help, call for me,]" I told him, letting the boy know I saw. He smiled, nodding without a word as he advanced.

As blades clashed and the sound of battle filled the air, I went straight to work. The enemy outnumbered us, but we possessed superior quality. Every Caster on our side had their purpose and specialties, and it was important that we abused those strengths to the fullest.

Some Casters excelled at duels, taking down one to three opponents at a time with brutal efficiency.

Sigura became a blur of orange light as she darted forward, refusing to wait for the enemy to collapse on her. Instead, she leapt into the center of the crowd; arms, legs, and claws snapping out to crumple metal and down Orcs shielded by [Mantle] before they even knew what was happening. She blurred with motion, likely from the help of a Skill, the colour of her skin-tight suit covering nearly every inch of her body made brighter by her Aera, resembling a blurring beacon of battle.

She spun on the spot, arm snapping out to catch an axe mid swing. She pulled backwards, dragging the holder towards her as an elbow smashed against his snout, cracking a tusk in the process. His grip loosened on the weapon as he fell to his knees, clutching at his face. Sigura wasted no time flipping the weapon around in her grip, grabbing the handle as her Cat-like ears twitched. The weapon was brought around in a sideways arc, smashing against the blade of an Orc behind her with brutal efficiency. The force of the strike was enough to crack and destroy both her weapon and that of the enemy. The weapon flipped in her hand once again before she drove the handle of the ruined axe into the disarmed Orc's face.

Off to the right, Overcharge fought similarly to Sigura, albeit with less speed and finesse. Instead, he was the type to rely on his stamina and durability. He wore a golden skin-tight suit similar to Sigura's albeit without a full mask or helmet, his face only obscured by a V-shaped violet visor. Each punch from a clenched fist with an orange glove dented metal or enemy facial structures, knocking Orcs back into one another as they struggled to reach him.

"[Careful!]" I yelled to him through [Telepathy] as an Orc swung a club down hard, smashing it against the back of the man's unprotected head.

Electricity crackled from the impact, and for a moment I thought it was part of the enemy's attack, a strike designed to stun. Overcharge twitched, barely staggering where I thought he'd fall, spinning to smash a fist into the opponent's chin with a brutal uppercut. The strike launched the Orc clad in metal armor into the air with immense force. Between that and the electricity dancing along his costume, I saw that he was strong. I could understand why Sigura had trouble fighting him.

They were both strong in their own right, behemoths in close combat that could dispatch even the largest among the Orcs. Still, there was only so much damage they could do at once. As Sword Casters, fights like this weren't their specialty.

They were mine.

Metal came forth from within my compartment, piles of assorted iron, bronze, and steel of varying shapes and sizes rising into the air. Thick sheets of metal connected to one another, creating a thick wall in front of my armored form. Hovering blocks and spears sat in the air around me, flying forward to lash out against the blind spots of my enemies detected through [Battlefield Awareness] and [Thought Acceleration]. Sword fighting against multiple opponents while another flying blade or improvised club struck them from behind was simple, now. Thinning out the numbers while guarding myself was a simple task for a Caster capable of controlling the battlefield.

My awareness snapped around constantly, darting through my zone while being guided by my Skills. I sought out weak spots, or Goons that exhibited magic that could pose problems to the Casters closest to them. I sent my hands to fly above the crowd, striking some while on their way to snatch glowing red potions, pouches, and weapons around their waists or strapped to their backs. If they were for healing, this would prevent downed enemies from getting back up. I wouldn't risk using them on allies, just in case they were specialised for Orcs or possessed unknown side effects.

I wasn't the only one who excelled at thinning out the crowd. As much as Sigura's abilities were tailored towards duels, she was a prodigy in battle, one capable of using everything she had at her disposal to defeat as many foes as possible. She was deep in enemy territory, in a spot where she could use her magic and [Heat Aura] to melt armor and augment her strikes without worrying about collateral damage. She was in her element.

On the other side of the fight, a massive shadow was cast over the Orcs. The shadow sent fear running through the trembling bodies of our foes, but they advanced regardless, as futile as such an attempt was.

The Aetherman, a colossal mech of white plating and interlocked magic and metal, stood tall before the crowd, swinging an enormous blade with glowing edges that I had to admit was impressively faithful to its inspiration. With its size and power, it cut through swathes of enemies, striking multiple Orcs down with each swing. Gamechanger was an incredibly talented Caster to have made something like this.

The sensation of clubs and bodies striking against my wall brought my senses back to me. They could have crumpled it with time, but I wasn't willing to give any of them that opportunity.

Goons fell on both sides of the battle, with [Mantles] dimming and dwindling to nothing as people were knocked unconscious or rendered too weak and injured to keep them active. I brought my fists back, dropping their stolen goods near the houses at the edge of the clearing before they flew back to me, all eight striking against the enemy in unison, batting them away from my wall as I slowly advanced.

Plates and the hands flew around the battlefield, grabbing Goons that fell on our side before dragging them away, using the confusion to pull them to safety. It was a job I'd declared I'd handle before the mission began. It was something I was able to do while fighting, and a mission the Don had approved of. Some of our Goons falling helped to give the enemy courage, yet not even a single Caster on our side had fallen yet.

It was an idea that made me want to think positively, but I needed to be realistic. Even if they were falling far faster than we were, their Casters hadn't emerged yet. This was just the beginning. This first wave of weaker Goons was designed to wear us down. On their side, some Orcs had abandoned the fight, instead working alongside some non-Orc allies to drag their fallen comrades back into the building, presumably for healing and rest.

We were whittling down their numbers with our superior power, and the mission was looking good, but we were outnumbered and in their home territory. I couldn't let that-

The Orcs dragging their fallen allies inside moved out of the way, allowing the second wave to join the fray. They leapt out of doorways, windows, and even from the warehouse's roof, [Mantles] glowing brightly as they attacked in unison with their allies. Even without my [Insight] to help assess it, the glow and complexity of their Aera was different to that of the first wave.

They were bringing out Casters of greater force and skill now. And among them-

"[The Casters of note have emerged from their base,]" the Don said, his voice echoing through my mind as I began to focus on assessing those coming from within. "[Be ready to find your opponent.]"

The second wave seemed... angrier looking. Was it indignation because of our attack? Because we'd attacked their fallen brethren? Or maybe it was because of who the Don was.

It didn't matter.

They were stronger, more durable, and willing to fight harder. None of those in the second wave were going down in one or two hits from my attacks. Their [Mantles] were thicker. Some reached out, grabbing my flying metal from the air as they worked to bend or cut my controlled material, weakening my control. Others shot plumes of flame into the air, working to try and melt my metal without success. I increased my focus on attack now that the majority of our fallen Goons were left by the buildings behind us.

Brute forcing this battle was making things more difficult. I understood the Don's viewpoint, and that this would grant us more Experience. It was an investment for the future, but it brought with it great risk.

If Toya had been here, this mission would be much easier.

With his abilities, he could have disabled groups of Orcs with ease. His slime was hard to break free from, and could be applied over a wide area. At this critical juncture I knew I shouldn't be devoting so much thought to him, but it was hard not to notice the gap in our team's skill set that he created when he left us. I liked Toya, and I knew him leaving would hurt Streiphen, but the pain I'd felt when he left was beyond simply losing a friend. He'd become ingrained in our group, and the dynamic had changed somewhat when he left.

That 'change' was what I feared the most.

Battle was a poor place to have sudden epiphanies about my worries. Even if his ability would've been invaluable here, he was gone. That was something I needed to accept. It was because he was gone that I'd trained and developed the new 'idea'. The strategy I'd been able to form with Debutante's help.

The flying silver coated hands striking at the crowd stopped, hovering above the Orcs as they worked to press through our defenses and dogpile onto our Casters, abusing their durability and strength in numbers. The Goons on our side were gone now, and some of our less combat oriented Casters were beginning to struggle.

That much had been easy to predict. I knew it would happen, given Big Tooth's numbers.

The silver 'costume' around my metal hands began to unravel and part, turning back into lines of thread controlled by my [Telekinetic Field]. I wasn't able to control thread through [Telekinesis] like Debutante could, but this was different. The thread thinned out and interlocked with one another, weaving into nets formed from thin threads. I'd learned how to weave nets of twine from my parents to help catch fish, and although this was different, I'd been able to adjust to it since this morning.

The nets were different from the ones I'd formed with the supervision of my parents. They were thinner, weaker looking in comparison. I sent them flying down, ensnaring groups of Orcs as they thrashed beneath it, swinging blades against the threads only to find their attacks having little effect. The thin threads turned an emerald green, strengthening further. [Sheen] was easier to use on these nets, given that they were all thin and interconnected.

They were flexible threads, ones compatible with my [Telekinetic Field], and incredibly durable. Metal gauntlets gripped the thread, trying hard to pull the nets apart. Exposed skin was sliced into. Armor crumpled and bent as they pressed their weight into the net. As the nets began to press tightly together, our foes were finding it harder to maneuver and strike without lashing out at an ally.

The nets, and my costume, weren't made from normal fabric.

It was webbing. Webbing formed from the thread of an Ironmaw Spider. A gift from Debutante.

I sent more nets over the crowd, sowing confusion and chaos with even greater range and efficiency then before. They weren't that sticky when compared to the threads of a normal Spider, but they were flexible, and they were durable in a way that even typical threads couldn't match.

They were formed from the Ironmaw Spider's unique physiology, a product of their diet being a mix of larger creatures they'd captured with traps, and their ability to consume and digest metal, hardening their bodies, hairs, and webbing through integration. An Arcane Mutation that had been adapted into stable Racial Skills spread across an entire species.

The threads were thin, and far different to anything else I'd worked with in the past, but they were filled with enough metallic material that, like I'd hoped after hearing about them last night, my [Telekinetic Field] took to it with ease. It felt heavier than it should have given its physical weight, but it was still manageable. Even with the impurities of meat and silk in the threads, much of it was metal in composition.

My nets worked to restrain the enemy as much as possible, weaving overhead and around legs to tangle and bind as many Orcs to one place or each other as I could. Blades came down in an attempt to cut the thread, yet it refused to budge. Debutante had told me that the threads were resistant to slashing attacks and fire, which made them excellent for costumes.

Some were able to enhance their weapons with [Sheen] or bolster their muscles with magic to chop through the net with blades, slowly cutting themselves and their brethren free. Some even took to it with their teeth. In some cases, it even worked, which had to have been the work of a Skill.

They weren't called 'Big Tooth' for show.

Even if the nets couldn't hold them in place forever, that wasn't their job. The nets slowed down the enemy. It brought chaos to their rank and divided them, sullying any attempt at coordination they'd been able to muster. Above all else, it helped my allies take them down in the confusion as they carved a path towards their designated opponents.

I began to trudge forward, my metal mech covered in a dense, protective layer of Ironmaw Spider thread. It moved ever closer to the enemy base, my focus entirely on defense and disruption. Those that managed to get past my wall as I stepped into the crowd were met with flying blades and pipes. The precious few that got close enough to strike me saw parts of my form bulge as thick whips of telekinetically controlled threads snapped out, knocking them out or smashing limbs to disarm them before rejoining the rest of the costume.

My focus was on disrupting the enemy as I approached my foe. It was a job I was pleased to have, especially given that my designated target wouldn't provide much of a 'battle'. It had been disappointing in the moment, but I understood the Don's rationale. It was a sound tactical decision, and it gave me more time to multi-task and support my allies elsewhere.

Then, I saw him. The red furred Orc with a pair of enchanted cooler boxes at his waist. He wasn't a combat type Caster, but he was still a prominent magic user among their group. Even now, he was dispensing cooked steaks and chicken legs from the glowing red boxes. I couldn't tell if they were conjured or simply enchanted, but each bite seemed to relieve those eating them of their fatigue as injuries closed up.

'Red Meat'. Big Tooth's best Syringe Caster. He was a [Healer], which naturally made him a prime target. Given my great range and ability to control the battlefield, the Don saw me as the best person to take him down.

If he wasn't as heavily guarded, the task of taking him down would be a simple one. He was surrounded by several armed Orcs and two of them had created [Magic Barriers], twin domes of light that formed a double layered defense, one that wouldn't make it easy to break through without thinning out the number of Orcs defending him first.

For now, I needed to focus. Slowly advancing while beating back the horde and making things easier for my teammates was a very different kind of support to the type that Red Meat could provide. The ability to sow chaos on the battlefield was a useful one, an ability that bore fruit as our Casters began to arrive before their designated targets.

One of the Orcs, a mass of flab and pink fur, stepped through the group. He wore dark clothing and leather guards in place of metal armor, equipment that inflated in size as his body grew. Soon, he towered over the other Orcs present, casting a shadow over his allies as they retreated from his form. He was the largest I'd ever seen an Orc become, with a size that bested even Venison's transformation. The Orc raised both arms, covering his clenched fists in a deep reddish brown [Sheen]. It couldn't have been easy to coat that much skin and muscle in Aera, but he managed it.

He stepped forward as the [Sheen] spread down along his forearms, moving to intercept an opponent that towered above even the Orc. In the middle of a crowd that moved to give both combatants space to strike, the giant pink Orc clashed against the Aetherman.

Close to the walls of the grafted warehouse, I saw a light figure bounce over the heads of the Orcs, a shadow passing momentarily over them as they struggled to keep up. Clever Girl, who was wearing her Velvet Star uniform with a lab coat over it and a rounded blue mask with a scaled pattern along the edges and blue glass-like lenses over the eyes, managed to keep out of reach. She was leaping around the battle barefoot, yet still easily hopped along pillars and even on top of the shoulders of our foes as though she was truly weightless.

She chased another unfamiliar Orc Caster, a mountain of muscle with dark grey fur, a skin tight black shirt, and a perpetual grin slapped onto his face. The tusked monster wore no pants, although I suspected that was a necessity, given his magic. He was another Caster that relied on a transformation, even if it was more abnormal than the others I'd seen. His lower body had extended, stretching backwards as more legs had formed from the sides, turning the Orc into a six legged mountain of muscle that moved far faster than someone of his size should've been able to. It was odd looking, a sight that reminded me of a Centaur or Arachtaur.

She worked to catch up with him, but hadn't reached for any of her potions yet. The six legged monster carried an armored Orc under each arm, bringing a pair of his unconscious allies back to the warehouse before dumping them at the porch, breaking off into a run again as Clever Girl's [Sheen] empowered fists connected, harrying him before she leapt into the air again and away from his swiping hand.

Patty and Trotter. Two of the 'executives' of Big Tooth, powerful Casters that the Don had informed us of beforehand. Both were users of Transformation Magic, yet both employed it in dramatically different ways. They were dangerous when they could coordinate and truly make use of their strengths, but we'd selected opponents that were incredibly difficult for them to deal with.

I saw a number of familiar faces, too, if I could call Casters I'd fought before 'familiar'.

Both of the Orcs that Sigura had fought in the streets of Divastyr when the Big Tooth patrol had ambushed us during a peaceful day of shopping were being beaten back by our allies.

One of the Velvet Star members I knew very little about, Mire, was a Half Elven man with dark green hair and a thick robe all around his body. The robe itself was a light green, yet the fabric was hidden beneath a thick layer of moss, dirt, and soil that clung to the costume. All along it, glowing mushrooms of varying colouration had sprouted from his suit. He wore no face mask, but had the V-shaped violet visor of the Velvet Star.

The man, who I'd been informed was a '[Fungal Druid]', some specialised version of the [Druid] Class, plucked a mushroom from his cloak. He held the mushroom by its long stem, staring down at the fungus' head, black with purple spots dotting it. The man took a deep breath, his face grimacing before he reached down, biting the entire head off of the mushroom.

He continued to chew as the stem elongated and appeared to harden like dried mud, turning into what looked like a Caster's staff without a head. A deep purple smoke rose from the end of the staff, taking to the air. He tapped the butt of the staff against the ground, causing the grey stone all around him to soften, turning a purplish shade. The Orcs in armor around him attempted to run, yet the more they moved and thrashed, the faster they began to sink into the ground. The material clung to their legs, as though he'd turned the stone into a sticky quicksand. I knew he was part of the group's alchemy division, but I'd never properly been introduced to him.

His opponent, Marinate, had both hands next to one another, a creamy liquid swirling between his cupped palms. The liquid had turned into a peach coloured fog that matched the colour of the fat Orc's fur, but as the purple smog Mire had formed began to spread, it drowned out whatever effects Marinate was able to produce, causing the Orcs he'd previously been empowering somehow to break into a coughing fit, struggling to escape as moss spread along the ground.

Kitchen knives slashed through the air, catching many colours along the steel as the light of [Mantles] splashed against the surface from all sides. Sigura's second former opponent, the slender black furred Orc, Mince, was moving slowly. Against Sigura, he'd been moving faster and faster with every slash. This time, his opponent wasn't letting him get even a single hit in.

Tick Tock kept his distance, wearing his Velvet Star uniform beneath the bronze clockwork chestplate, shoulderguards, and contraption on his back. He reached into his pocket with a dark gloved hand, pulling free a small bronze ball with a clock on the front. He chucked it forward, letting it soar through the air towards his foe as Mince winced. I saw dark light begin to form around his blade as he attempted to launch a [Release] at my ally. The bronze ball exploded, creating a similarly coloured tinge in the air around the Orc, a sphere of tinted light.

The [Release] flew, yet the shockwave it produced slowed to a crawl, a slash in the form of black light moving at the pace of a Street Snail. Even Mince's fall from his previous jump looked slower, with gravity taking longer and longer to bring him back to earth.

The work of a [Chronomancer]. Time Magic.

All around me, the Casters of the Velvet Star were finding their opponents, and like the Don had predicted, we were winning.

Although their numbers were creating more of a challenge than the simple duels might have allowed, my nets were minimising their impact. With this, the battles would only get easier provided I didn't run out of material.

Abalone, the talkative 'leader' of the Orc squad that had led the charge against our team twice had nothing to say, now. It was clear by his expression that Big Tooth were on the defensive, even on their home turf. They had superior numbers, but they were outclassed in sheer skill.

He wore his blue-green shell-like gauntlets and armor, but couldn't land a hit against his opponent. The silvery [Mantle] glinted off of Pale Edge's cloak, one that crinkled and sparkled like tin foil. The ends of his forearms had transformed, turning into a pair of blinding white blades. He was easily able to keep up with the Orc, driving him further and further back with each swing, dodging and weaving to line up cut after cut, slowly whittling down his opponent.

Now, it was only a matter of time. The other members of the Velvet Star didn't need my help. The Orcs attempting to reach me were blocked at every opportunity. Controlled metal pipe and panel against blade, and silvery threads to block arrows, balls of flame, and stone chucked at me. Even without [Thought Acceleration] and [Battlefield Awareness], it was a fight I felt like I could've won with my zone closed off. They didn't have the raw power to break my defenses, nor the speed or skill to weave around them.

I found myself feeling bitter that the fight was going this well. Given his utter lack of a plan, I hadn't wanted the Don to be right. This was the extent of Big Tooth's power as a group, and we were crushing them, even without our full forces.

I looked elsewhere, electing to check up on those I suspected would need help the most.

Fareel ducked and weaved between the legs of the Orcs, focusing entirely on evasion. He'd sustained a few nicks and cuts, but nothing that would've disabled him. His Familiars were out in force, working to take down the enemy the Don had assigned to him.

His foe possessed similar Familiar abilities that were equally as macabre as Fareels. While Fareel's blue insects bit and slashed, Veal's Familiars swatted ineffectually at the creatures swarming them. The smaller pink Orc was attempting to guide his own Familiars, a collection of Pig-like creatures standing upright, but they possessed even less control and finesse than Fareel's, moving like puppets held aloft by a wobbly hand.

It was eerie, watching the clusters of insects swarm the Pig-like puppets. They'd been effective against a weakened Streiphen during the fight in the streets, but now they were the ones who were outnumbered. Fareel vomited to create the eggs that formed his Familiars, while Veal used a knife to carve away chunks of his own swiftly regenerating flesh and blood to give his puppets life.

Magic was a strange, strange thing.

The sight of it reminded me of Ants grouping up to take down something larger than themselves. A memory came to mind, one of Addersbrook. During our first mission hunting in the [Farmer's] fields, the first Bogworm I found had been grievously wounded by something else. A wild animal, or the [Farmer's] Dog, maybe. It had quivered on the ground as a colony's worth of reddish grey Ants swarmed it, cutting and eating it alive. It made for the easiest first kill that I could've asked for.

Then... my awareness shifted from the uncomfortable duel to one that gave me a very different type of anxiety.

Streiphen was breathing hard, but although he had a few bruises and cuts, he'd held his own and remained standing tall. I saw half a dozen Orcs around him, either wounded, unconscious, or breathing hard. The training he'd done on his own, the training he'd done with Sigura and I... It had all paid off.

Now, he stood before an Orc larger than any of them.

The Orc grew as I watched, dark grey fur and skin rippling with muscle as it grew and transformed. Its snout elongated as two thick, curling Reindeer-like horns sprouted from atop his head. Dark clothes, leather shoulderguards, and matching brown kneepads expanded and stretched as he grew.

[Insight] told me the clothes weren't enchanted, so it was likely something in the material that let them grow so much without stretching. They were made from a creature with special properties, like the threads of the Ironmaw Spider that allowed me to control the battlefield as effectively as I was.

Watching the small, Chimera boy stand there as the shadow that engulfed him grew ever larger, I was struck with a temptation. I almost called out to him, then and there, to ask if he wanted my help. To rush to his side and send metal plates to surround him in a protective dome.

But I couldn't.

Behind that eye-mask, I saw resolve. In each and every one of the silvery stars that made up the space within his black eyes, I saw determination. Even as Venison grew, he kept his eyes on that of his opponent, not pulling them away for even a second. Seeing that look on his face, even while his body trembled from fear, anticipation, or both, forced me to stop. To ask him if he needed help now would've been the same as trampling on the courage he'd worked to build. The courage he had developed to fight this Orc and win.

"You have come to lose again, Thief," the Orc's abnormally deep, gravelly voice said as one of his muscled arms raised an enormous [Butcher's] knife, one he'd had strapped to his back. Even if it seemed small compared to his current size, it would've been a broadsword for any regular sized creature. "Your people are foolish for challenging us, and will learn the consequences of surrendering your 'throne' soon enough. You are not enough to defeat us, not anymore."

Streiphen shook his head, raising his own blade, one that caught the green light of his [Mantle], yet looked pitifully small in comparison to the Orc's colossal weapon.

"I... I have to be stronger for everyone," he replied, his voice holding not even a quiver. "If I don't... I'll just hold everyone back. We all need to get better if we want to live happily, so... so I'm going to beat you!"

"Strength..." Venison grumbled. "Strength is all that matters. This much you understand. Yet your people abandoned your 'strength', and you do not have what it takes to beat me, nor take it back. I will not go easy on you, Thief, child as you are. Not when you have come to my home and waged war on my people."

The Orc raised his arm, bringing the blade high above his head. If he brought it down, I feared he'd have split Streiphen and the ground beneath him in two.

"I hope your Don will care enough not to abandon you, too, when you are broken and beyond use to him. Prepare yourself."

Then, I felt an intrusion. A woman's voice, echoing into my mind.

"[Stardust has requested that everyone activate their [Insight]. He's going to reduce battlefield visibility.]"

The blade swung down, and Streiphen darted to the right. Steel tore through stone as though it were paper, leaving a long indent in the ground where the boy had been standing. White smoke exploded off his body in sheets, forming a thick cloud in the air. The other Orcs around the two ran away from the shadowy silhouette within the mist, trying to get to a position where they'd be able to offer support.

Not that I would let them. Not when Streiphen had created an arena and begun his duel.

The blade rose off the ground again as Streiphen slipped behind the towering transformed Orc. His twisted sword swung around in an arc. Green light glinted off of each individual blade protruding from the length of the abnormal weapon, sending a flurry of thin, smaller [Releases] at his opponent. Venison's eyes widened in the gloom as the back of his legs were peppered with cuts that were thin yet deep. Even the penetrating power of his attacks had grown.

The enormous blade swung around again, yet compared to the speed of my telekinetic hands, it was slow. Slow enough for Streiphen to duck and roll under. As powerful and durable as Venison was, it meant nothing if he couldn't hit Streiphen. If Sigura's battle against Trainmech had taught me anything, it was that speed could trump strength. This would be a battle of attrition. If Streiphen began to tire, he'd be flattened.

The massive Orc clenched his leg muscles, squeezing the wounds closed as his eyes flashed a dark grey. Streiphen and those on our side weren't the only people capable of using [Insight]. Even if Venison could track Streiphen in the glow, he'd be nothing but an emerald streak in the fog if he continued moving quickly.

Streiphen swung over and over, sending the scattershot of [Release] at the back of the monster's legs again and again. With how many blasts he fired, the accuracy was low, yet against someone of Venison's size, he had a big enough target to land most of his strikes.

After a few failed swings, Venison clenched his free fist, swinging it around as a blast of dark grey Aera filled the area. The force of the massive [Release] sent the [Smokescreen] Streiphen had created blowing outwards in all directions, returning visibility to normal.

But it didn't matter.

The battlefield once again filled with smoke as Streiphen repeated the process. As strong as Venison was, I was willing to bet that Streiphen could keep the [Smokescreen] alive. He had a Chimera's abnormal Aera reserves, and he was willing to abuse it to achieve victory.

Then, Streiphen was gone.

My heart sank. My zone snapped around, scanning the smoky area around the Orc's cloven feet, searching for any signs that Streiphen had been crushed or slashed. But... he was gone.

I saw a flash of green light with silver stars and black streaks, and more blood began to flow down the Orc's legs. I saw him, darting around just like he had been, even if he'd somehow evaded my [Sensory Zone]. For a moment, it had been difficult to focus on him. The effect was weaker, but familiar. It reminded of Languish's ability.

Streiphen had concealed his presence.

Over and over, he continued to unleash barrage after barrage of thin emerald blasts, chipping away at his opponent's vitality as he leapt high and ducked low to avoid the bladed swings of the Orc. Venison was working to restrain his anger, but Streiphen's strategy was getting to him.

He swung the blade down towards the ground, burying the blade in the stone. Venison took a pair of steps backwards, flexing his fingers. When he saw Streiphen again, he brought his arms around in a wide arc. It was too low to the ground for the boy to duck under, but his jump managed to carry him barely over the outstretched forearm.

Venison had abandoned his weapon. The blade of his [Butcher's] knife was too thin. Against someone as evasive as Streiphen, he couldn't rely on a method of attack with such a small surface area. His arms had a higher chance of striking, and he knew it.

It was only a matter of time before Venison fell. Streiphen had-

Flesh collided with flesh. Both of Venison's arms had been collapsing on Streiphen from either side. The Orc's massive palm smashed into Streiphen, rising to catch him mid-jump. My plates flew forward on reflex, but I forced myself to stop. I had to be patient.

Streiphen gritted his teeth, taking the force of the blow. His [Mantle] had thickened at the moment of impact, lessening the damage. He planted his feet on the base of the Orc's palm, kicking against them. With weapon in hand, twin flashes of emerald light sparked out from his feet, sending him sailing out of the monster's grip before his fingers had managed to curl around an arm or leg.

He'd used the shockwave of [Release] to send himself sailing upwards, even while being attacked. It wasn't like the blow had been weak, either. It was a strike that would've crumpled metal and sent Streiphen sprawling and coughing had it hit him before. Against Streiphen now? It would leave bruises, but he was far from downed.

Streiphen rolled as he hit the ground, coughing as he produced another cloud of smoke, thickening the obscurity in their vision.

Then, he gripped the handle of his blade with one hand the other reaching for the zip on his left jacket pocket. He pulled it down, reaching in for...

What was that?

Streiphen disappeared again, and my zone worked to find him with the help of my [Honed Vision]. When my sight locked onto his blade and I spotted him again, he was holding an odd looking weapon in his off hand. It had the appearance of a baby blue coloured pistol, one with a wide, circular barrel and two goofy looking horns on the very end of it. Stuffed into the back of the gun was a glass cartridge above a thin tail with a triangular spike at the end, a cartridge containing...

Blue slime. It wasn't just any blue slime, either. It was all too familiar. How...?

"You will not grow if you hide yourself and dance about like a mouse, Thief," Venison's voice boomed within the smoke. "Come out and face me."

"I am facing you, and I'm using everything I've got!" Streiphen yelled back, darting out of the Orc's line of sight before he could line up another swing. "You... you said you weren’t going to go easy on me, but I'm not going easy on you either!"

The Chimera boy swung the gun around, pulling down on the trigger as an explosion of blue goo erupted from the barrel. Venison turned in time to see the goo expand, splashing onto the concrete, his leg, and an arm. Steam rose from the skin and fur as it burned. Different from... from Toya's goo, but unmistakably the same visually. What did Shafu make for him?

Venison attempted to turn further, working to raise a leg now stuck fast to the ground. He struggled, muscles bulging and veins popping as he tried to pull free. But he couldn't. That was the goo that had kept Trainmech down. A Caster larger and stronger than Venison. One of his arms was stuck fast to his side, burning with every passing second.

Then, the realisation hit home. I didn't know how Shafu could have expanded it so much, but... but it was the leftovers from Toya's arm. The arm that had Streiphen had been pulling on, begging Toya to stay. When... when he left, and the arm began to melt, Streiphen had kept it.

And now...

"What is this? This is not mere glue or a Slime's remains!" Venison boomed, unable to pull himself free.

Streiphen didn't respond. He reached into his other pocket, using his thumb to pop off the cork of a small vial, one filled with a familiar sky blue liquid. He brought it to his lips, downing the contents in a single gulp. He tossed the vial away, the sound of it shattering against the concrete pulling Venison's attention to the left.

Streiphen's arms and legs increased in muscle mass fractionally as deep silver scales began to grow around his cheeks, neck, and on his arms and legs beneath his clothes.

The Chimera hadn't been striking randomly. He'd never aimed for Venison's upper body, not once since the fight began. He'd struck the arms swinging in retaliation, yet he'd never aimed for them. All of Streiphen's strikes were aimed at weakening Venison's legs, and now the damage was going through. He was beginning to wobble as his fur was stained red from countless cuts that were thin yet deep.

Streiphen stopped in front of the gigantic Orc, disabling his [Conceal Presence] before kicking against the ground with [Release]. Cracks spread out along the pavement as he was launched into the air, empowered by Clever Girl's potion.

"This... This is what Equinox can do when we work hard!" Streiphen shouted, gripping the handle of his blade with both hands as the steel turned emerald, silver stars appearing along the weapon I'd forged with the help of his [Sheen]. Twin wings of black smoke speckled with stardust formed from his back, keeping the boy aloft in the air, floating.

"[Spinning Slash]! [Release]!" Streiphen roared as Venison's head turned towards the source of the sound, his eyes widening as he saw the boy's body right in front of his face. The Orc tried to swing his head down to impale the boy with his antlers, yet he was too slow.

The malformed blade I'd crafted simply to appease Streiphen had been turned into a true weapon. Blades cut into the Orc's cheeks as the sharp shockwaves snapped outwards in all directions, leaving a spider web of cuts and spraying blood in its wake. Venison's head was snapped backwards from the sheer combined force of the blade and the shockwave. His eyes widened with shock as he grimaced from the pain.

His legs couldn't support him after a blow like that. Venison took a step back, trying to steady himself, yet the remnants of Toya's slime stuck fast, preventing his retreat. The colossal Orc toppled, crashing against the pavement as the cloud of smoke was dispersed around him.

Streiphen had knocked Venison down.

The Orc was left panting as his body began to shrink. More steam rose from his trembling form, the blood loss intensifying as his body returned to its normal size.

Looking down towards his fallen foe, Streiphen continued to hover in the air as the wild spin drew to a stop. He was panting hard, letting himself slowly drift back towards the ground on wings of smoke. He reminded me of something ethereal, like a Faerie. As his feet touched down on solid ground, the 'wings' dispersed into smoke, becoming nothing but wisps of stardust that scattered to the winds.

He was trembling, wobbling side to side with dizziness as he brought the tip of his sword against the ground to steady himself. The sparkling [Sheen] left his blade, returning it to polished metal.

He'd won. He'd taken damage, but Streiphen had come out on top.

His training had paid off.

All around the battlefield, other battles were beginning to reach their conclusion.

Fareel was hiding behind a downed Orc as his insects converged on Veal, biting and scratching at his skin. Evidently, his powerful regeneration only worked on self inflicted wounds, if the blood freely trickling down along his chestplate was any indication. An exploitable weakness.

Sigura stood over her opponent, one thread-clad foot firmly planted on the steam covered body of an unfamiliar Orc with blood red fur. The air was distorted from heat, making her and the Orc beneath her appear hazy.

The war still raged, but it was swiftly coming to its conclusion as battle after battle throughout the area drew to a close.

It looked as though we had the upper hand. Our Casters had been injured, but none had fallen. In contrast, many of the enemy Casters were on the verge of unconsciousness, or drawing closer to their defeat with every passing moment. It seemed like the battle was coming to its end without a single proper casualty, just like the Don had predicted.

It was irritating, but I'd need to grin and bear it. I was glad my 'poker face' wouldn't let him easily read how annoyed I'd be when I returned. He was the type of person to give a speech and laud his victory over his opponents for the Chimen recording the battles, too.

I just had to wait it out and-

Oh. My sides turned red as embarrassment washed through me. I'd been so focused on Streiphen's battle that I'd forgotten my own mission. The Goons had been thinned out by my metal and nets in the meantime, with many having retreated inside the warehouse.

I saw my target, the red furred Orc, Red Meat, speaking to a pair of people that were just now entering my vision as I came close to the grafted warehouse.

His expression was one of worry. Panic. Fear.

At first, I believed it was due to the realisation that his group was about to lose to us and surrender their control over the Sova region. Then I saw the two people he was talking with, and those same feelings in his expression spread through me, too.

They weren't wearing metal armor, and they weren't Orcs. They were a pair of Humans in lighter clothes, yet still equipped for battle. One had a metal pipe strapped to their back, and the other a huge broadsword.

They wore black leather jackets, both of which had a symbol on the back.

The head of a white Wolf with its jaws spread wide, fangs bared. Three golden chains were wrapped around their neck.

As my zone expanded into the building, I saw more of them. [Delinquents] and [Gangsters] alike, all brandishing weapons and ready for battle.

To our left and right, I saw figures emerge from behind the warehouse. A red haired Minotaur woman in bronze gladiator armor wielding a pair of massive bronze broadswords stepped out from the left, while a living cloud of black smoke with the face of a woman that had hollow indents where the eyes and mouth should have been flew out from the right, both flanked by a horde of [Delinquents] brandishing weapons.

Another figure came into my vision, a grinning woman with teeth bared, three white tails swishing happily behind her. She walked throughout the grafted warehouse with one thick basket held by each tail. The baskets were full of glass bottles jangling with movement, bottles that were being passed out to many of the wounded Orcs resting within, including some of our designated Caster targets that had been dragged back to safety while I'd been busy indulging in Streiphen's battle.

When I saw the word on the front of each and every one of those bottles, whatever 'heart' I had within me began to beat violently as many Orcs popped the corks on the containers, downing the contents within with a single gulp.

'Boost'.