"Well?" came a voice from across the room. A voice too quiet to hear for anyone but me. "Is it everything you hoped it might be?"
"[It is,]" I responded sheepishly. "[And more.]"
All around me, the Velvet Star's workshop was in motion. Compared to the days since my release from the infirmary, it finally felt as though the room had come back to life, in a sense. Even if I hadn't seen them for just a few days, it felt like much longer. Some of the other regulars were back in the workshop. Even if I wasn't as well acquainted with some of them, it felt... off, not to have them around. Like they were a missing piece of the workshop experience.
Gamechanger was sitting on his purple cushion, visor over his eyes and controller in hand, loudly directing a number of Goons standing at the foot of the mangled Aetherman. The group of men and women in Velvet Star uniforms were working to place panels of metal back onto the towering mech. Gearhead was back, too. The spiky silver haired Human with bright eyes obscured beneath a thick metal helmet dotted with tiny holes was hard at work. His hands were glowing with a silvery gunmetal hue as he worked to mold entire sheets of metal with his bare hands. Now that I possessed the ability myself, it was easy to see that it was '[Metal Shaping]', albeit at a level beyond what I could handle. The massive muscles on the oversized Human's arms probably helped in pushing and pulling it into place like it was putty.
Tick Tock was back at work too, pen in hand as he wrote a collection of notes in a journal or workbook by his desk. His arm and wounds seemed to have healed up just fine, and I was glad to see him back. With his bronze tinted glasses over his eyes, he looked relaxed and in the zone. I didn't pry into whatever he was writing, even if I was curious.
Not far from the [Chronomancer] was Shafu, who was also sitting by her desk. Strangely, she seemed to actually be doing work for once. Or rather... the closest thing to 'work' I'd ever seen her do. She wasn't performing magic or doing handiwork, but instead she was sketching out some design for an artefact she wanted to produce onto a blueprint. The design itself looked much like her chair, albeit with a thicker frame and some... extra attachments.
"[What're you designing?]" I asked, having no qualms about staring at her work. I knew she would have done the same to me.
In a huff, Shafu's mechanical arms swung over the blueprint, her expression warping into one of mock anger. I was really glad I'd learned to tell when she was joking. The old me might've been horribly offended by the glare. Now, I just felt like rolling my eyes. Or, well... the mental equivalent to rolling my eyes.
"[I use a [Sensory Zone] to see, Shafu,]" I told her drily. "[I can see it beneath your arms. I'm not just looking over your shoulder.]"
The red skinned Darkling snickered, moving both arms to link her hands behind her head, leaving the blueprint open and on full display.
"It's a secret," Shafu grinned.
Even if it was a joke, I decided to pull my awareness away, if only for the sake of courtesy. I had other great reading material to get back to anyway-
"You can look if you like, Yur," she said, rolling her eyes. "If it's more interesting than that catalogue anyway."
With a smile I couldn't express, I looked away from the Steel Soul catalogue and back towards Shafu's haphazard blueprints. Calling her a Caster specialised in 'chaos', as nebulous as that was for someone who hadn't seen much of her works, seemed pretty accurate given the contents of the blueprints. Alongside various attachments, the chair had compartments along the sides, a bulkier design than its current form, and metal platings around the legs that, if the supplementary images were correct, could morph into actual legs, allowing her to walk rather than wheel around.
"Gone quiet again? Bet you're so impressed you've been stunned into silence," Shafu grinned, pushing a number of other pages with sketches and failed attempts to the side. "Guess where the inspiration for this came from. Go on, I'll wait."
It was pretty obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. And in my case, even to people without any eyes at all.
"[Why do you need to modify your chair, Shafu?]" I asked, looking down at the mock replica of my own mech. "[You're never going to use this in battle... Why does it need...]"
I stopped, looking back over the plain writing in Scandian Common, rereading it just to ensure that it wasn't a misunderstanding or me having seen it incorrectly.
"['Dual-mounted firearm barrels'?]"
Shafu gave a waggle of her finger, a shake of her head, and a repeated set of tuts as she turned my way.
"Yuri, Yuri, Yuri," she sighed. "You're not sounding like a real [Tinkerer] with thoughts like that. It doesn't matter if it'll be used in battle or not. I do it for the love of the craft and pursuit of magic, not for the sake of practicality! That's how all the best Casters are, y'know? Magic is about exploring everything you want, are, and could be. Not just... prepping for the next fight."
While that was true, I had no idea how much an endeavor like this must cost. Granted, I doubted that someone of Shafu's skills was low on coin either. The freedom she got as an Anvil from having a backer like the Don let her pursue these sorts of strange experiments regardless of their functionality.
"[I suppose you're right,]" I 'smiled' back, hoping the emotion was expressed through my tone alone.
Then, I returned my focus to the catalogue lying open in front of my mech, two silver thread-covered hands hovering over it to turn the pages where necessary. The catalogue itself was the dark grey colour as the store that we'd... 'liberated' from the watchful glowing eyes of the Constructs that had supposedly been attacking customers earlier today. The catalogue, much like I'd hoped it would, managed to both live up to my expectations and surpass it.
Within was a stunning amount of materials and goods for sale. I'd spent the first few minutes going over an assortment of metals and crystals available for purchase. Copper. Bronze. Iron. Steel. Tungsten. Selarium. Waffnium. Snowsteel. Rubies. Sapphires. Emeralds. Grimstone. Cloudstone. Dozens more.
It was a shocking collection, with each and every picture and price being accompanied by a description of the material itself and some common uses for Anvils like myself to learn from.
There were pricier materials further into the catalogue, and I'd been astounded to see one of those particular materials. It seemed like we'd hit the jackpot by finding that bunker with Lyridium, because it was shockingly expensive if the catalogue was any indication. Seeing the amount of Dia required for even a single ingot of the stuff had served as a reality check. It was truly shocking that my coworker could afford enough of this material to make an enormous mech like the Aetherman. With coin like that, it was evident we weren't in some small time group. Even materials that cost this much were within our reach. It was... crazy to think about.
I knew the Lyridium in the bunker we'd found and covered up again would dry up as I built with it, so I'd resolved to use it sparingly. Still, it was relieving to know the material could be bought at a regular store, even if it was quite expensive.
Beyond simple building materials, later sections of the catalogue boasted an impressive collection of weapons and artefacts. Swords, spears, scythes, shields, armor, firearms, Force Pistols, Lance Scabbards, something with an overly complex diagram called a 'Dhilifura', and a whole host of others.
Reading through the catalogue at my leisure without needing to worry about time while listening to the sound of metalwork all around me just felt... right. Like everything seemed to fit. Like it was the place I belonged.
It felt as though I was looking at the meagre market catalogues and booklets from the small town of Addersbrook back in the safety of my warm, cozy basement, just at a far greater level. The workshop was far larger, of course, but it felt no less relaxing to be in. After everything that had happened, I felt incredibly lucky to have ended up here of all places. To be surrounded by such capable and supportive individuals, and Casters that shared my interests and allowed me to grow further and further.
Moving my metal hands, I pushed ahead to the next section to once again reread through it.
"[This is an impressive catalogue, Shafu. I'm surprised I haven't seen you reading this before. There are many artefact types I've never heard of in here,]" I said, calling out to the Darkling through the aid of my [Telepathy].
"Yeah, like what?" she responded at a normal speaking volume. Nobody else but me would have heard her, especially given our physical distance. It felt strangely normal to communicate like this now.
"[Cosmoscopes, Kingshields, Imprinters, Adaptive Tools, Drives, ArcSuits-]"
"If you want to hear about Drives, you should bring it up with Comnica, Yur. Her race practically invented the things, y'know? They're pretty... Wait, you didn't even have Imprinters where you came from?" Shafu blurted out, cutting me off with a grin. "Wow, you really did live out in the sticks, huh?"
"[No...? Should we have?]" I asked.
"Yeah," Shafu grinned, her pen returning to the blueprint. "How else did'ja think books get made around here? That they're all written by hand?"
Actually... yeah. I knew of [Writers], [Authors], and [Scribes] in both Addersbrook and my hometown that developed Skills to write and record details at supernatural speeds. The idea of an artefact performing the task seemed... a little counterintuitive. Wouldn't it be better for a person to perform the task instead to earn Experience through deadlines?
"[Yes. We didn't have 'Imprinters' where I came from. Isn't it better to do the work by hand?]" I asked, idly flipping to the next page.
"Huh... Guess if you live far enough from a city, anything is possible," Shafu smiled. "Artefacts don't get Experience or anything, but here in the city, demand for some books can be huge. Even if you had a group of Dolls working the whole time, Imprinters can just be cheaper depending on the demand. Handiwork can't solve everything either, Yur. I've got an Imprinter upstairs in my room too. I used it to get all those pictures Streiphen took on his Recorder down onto pictures."
Oh! I hadn't thought of that application for them, but... it made sense. That would've been far harder for even an [Artist] to replicate.
"[Thank you again for that, Shafu,]" I replied.
"Don't worry about it," Shafu said, brushing off my gratitude with a smile. "Some of 'em, the really expensive ones, can even print working Runes onto stuff. They work best with Scrolls because of the Conditions making them not last as long. They're pretty pricy, but really damn helpful. They're not good at complex Spells, but even lower tiered Scrolls in bulk can be useful as a Demon without half the risk. Needs a lot of recharging from whoever made the runes in the first place though."
Wow... That did sound impressive. Being able to copy out magic onto temporary Scrolls in bulk sounded invaluable. Much more than simply printing words onto paper anyway.
Hearing about all of this, it felt as though a whole new world had opened up right before my eyes. I thought I'd been blessed when Shafu had followed me to the workshop, bringing out a box of new, high quality tools and my own Rune Tuner to experiment with Runecraft as a surprise after my recovery. I'd been looking forward to exploring my own Aera and that of others with it to better understand the scope of what I was capable of, but that was barely scratching the surface! With everything in this catalogue, it felt like another level entirely.
"Where's Sigura anyway?" Shafu asked, lowering her head closer to the blueprints as she scribbled furiously. "Haven't seen her since she came to drop you off here earlier."
The choice of words could've been more flattering. Shafu made it sound more like I was being left at a day-care rather than Sigura keeping me company until I arrived here safely.
"[Ah... she just has to take care of some other business,]" I responded vaguely. It was a little embarrassing to talk about, but I hoped Shafu would catch the-
"Got it. She's going to teach the kids again?" Shafu responded, muttering under her breath.
"[Yes,]" I responded sheepishly. Given where we stood now, it still felt strange to think we were training a group of orphans on how to become Casters on top of our existing responsibilities and workload.
"You seem like a better teacher than Sigura, if you don't mind me saying," Shafu commented. "Why aren't you doing it? She just fillin' in until you recover fully?"
"[She's better at connecting with people than I am, and she's been doing vastly more research on Luster Arts,]" I explained, my tone... a little defensive. "[She's more knowledgeable in that area, and Luster Arts are far easier to pass onto a group of younger students, given that they can be learned regardless of magical specialties or Soul composition. That... and they can be practiced with less risk of... negative effects.]"
Soulburn. An issue I was well acquainted with. And if they'd already ingested Boost in an attempt to get stronger without training... Luster Arts were the safest thing they could practice, and it might help their Souls to stabilise too. I was relieved that even after everything, Sigura hadn't forgotten about them.
"Yeah, makes sense," Shafu nodded, returning to her normal volume. "Don't put yourself down so much though. You're polite and patient, which is more than most Scandians can boast. You've got that 'Lucanian charm'. Besides, I'm not that great around kids either Yur. I'm sorta like that Aunt that teaches you offensive magic, or tries to get you into using weapons when parents aren't looking, y'know?"
I had no idea how to respond to that. People had aunts like that?
"No? Just me?" Shafu responded idly, waiting for a response that never came. "Just me then, alright. Thought that was a more common thing."
"[You come from... Zeradonia, don't you?]" I responded gingerly, not sure how much of a touchy subject this would be with her. "[I've heard it's a... very different type of place.]"
"Oh, yeah," Shafu grinned. "Some people abroad like to say Scander and Zeradonia are pretty similar just because they're both combat focused and all, but trust me, they couldn't be more different."
It was something I could believe. I'd had to adjust quite a bit after arriving on this continent years ago. Coming to Selvania from Lucan had been a serious shock, from the races I frequently met to the customs and cultural differences too. Learning the Selvanian Common had been a struggle, even if I'd had plenty of time and patient tutors. My parents had helped me to bridge the gaps between Lucan's Common and Selvania's. Then... came the jump to arriving in Scander. The shock here was admittedly not as bad, but I didn't know how much to attribute to that being used to the continent, and how much to... the other memories I had inside me helped to normalise things.
"[Is it true that Zeradonia is filled with monstrous races?]" I asked. She seemed fine with talking about this, so I decided to pursue it.
"Yeah, it is," Shafu nodded. "Whatever rumours you've heard about the place are probably true. Even if Humans and Tierakin are dominant over here, Western Drow and Darklings make up most of the population in Zeradonia. Though a lotta races people are afraid of here don't have as hard a time back there. Vampires, Lycanthropes, Insectoids. They can be pretty scary at times, but so can Humans and Half Elves. They're just... different, y'know? Oh, and... people don't just go around killin' each other for no reason, that rumour's not true, but it is more... lax on security. You've gotta watch your own back way more than over here, but it's not that bad."
I didn't want to offend Shafu, but the thought of living in a land where Vampires and Lycanthropes wandered around openly was a little off-putting, as was the lack of security. Though... given what I'd become now, a criminal Chimera in a city with little innate security, I didn't have much of a leg to stand on, so to speak. It was just another irrational gut instinct I needed to squash.
In the midst of idle chatter and flicking through the catalogue, I saw Gearhead begin to walk towards me. He must've called a break while I wasn't focused, because the Goons by the Aetherman were sitting on boxes, eating lunch, and chatting idly to one another.
"Homebound!" the huge Human bellowed, grinning widely. "I'm glad to see you've come back to us!"
"[It's good to be back, too. Thank you, Gearhead,]" I responded sheepishly. I was usually more comfortable around the quiet types. People with this much energy were hard to keep up with in a conversation. At least most of the Anvils here were more like me in temperament. I gave thanks to the Gods for that small mercy.
"I've been looking to give you congratulations for your excellent work at the Big Tooth event for days now!" he spoke, coming to a stop in front of me with both hands on his hips.
"[Thank you, Gearhead...]" I replied, feeling a pang of regret form deep inside me.
"You've done a brilliant job! I saw the whole thing afterwards, you know. That battle against Big Tooth was impressive! Your tenacity and strength were inspiring, Homebound!" Gearhead bellowed once again, raising both arms to flex. I got the impression 'bellowing' was his natural state of conversation. "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to visit during your recovery, but the Don's been working some of us to the bone! Not that I don't appreciate the chance to grow, of course."
"[He has?]" I asked, hoping to divert his attention from praising me for beating an Orc to near-death. "[What have you been doing?]"
"Oh, nothing much around here," Gearhead responded with an idle wave of his hand. "Just checks and chats with people around the city and beyond to remind everyone that the Star is still shining brightly!"
Shafu turned in her seat, crossing both arms with one hooved leg swung over the other, rolling her eyes at the boisterous Anvil's words.
"We've been making sure our return is as smooth as it can be!" he grinned. "Your patrols have been helping spread the word too, Homebound, and for that you have my thanks!"
"[No problem,]" I replied with a smile in my voice. "[But you don't need to thank me for that. It's just part of the job. I enjoy doing it.]"
Gearhead laughed, a sound that reverberated through the workshop before he planted a heavy hand on the top of my mech.
"I'm delighted to hear it, Homebound! When it comes to being a Caster," he smiled, flashing bright white teeth. "That's the most important part! I hope to hear you keeping up the good work!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a good night's sleep back in our room, it was time for another day of 'good work', as Gearhead had called it. While I wasn't exactly hoping for combat that I knew my team expected me not to participate in, Sigura seemed riled up and ready to go.
Sigura had organised the patrol. She'd worked to get the other two up for breakfast at the cafeteria, trying to get us out onto the streets of Divastyr as early as possible. Strictly speaking, we didn't have to do another patrol again so soon after yesterday's venture, but Sigura was eager to be active. I was relieved that she'd gained a greater appreciation for appearing in the community. Her initiative took a weight off my shoulders in terms of leading the team, one I was grateful for.
The streets of Divastyr were... duller than they had been yesterday. That wasn't to say they were any less active and full of life than they usually were, but I could tell from the deep shadows on buildings and the lack of light shining down from above that it was a cloudier day despite it being so early out. I hoped it wouldn't rain. Even if it didn't bother me, it would definitely bother Sigura. I didn't want anything to get in the way of her desire to do good work, especially something as out of my control as the weather.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"So, how was the catalogue?" Sigura asked with a grin, hands stuffed into her pockets and oblivious to my less than optimistic train of thought. "Was it everything you hoped it'd be on the way home?"
"[It was,]" I confirmed with a smile in my voice. "[Thank you both for getting it for me. I plan on tallying up my money later today to know how much funds I have to spare for gathering new materials.]"
"Glad to hear you liked it, Miss Yuri!" Streiphen exclaimed with a smile, strutting along the sidewalk with arms swinging by his sides, completely undeterred by the dull weather. "Oh! The Cat Adept that works with the Don told me that your special Vox is being made now too!"
The Vox? Already? I... didn't think it would be coming so soon.
"[Thank you for passing on the message, Streiphen,]" I replied as he beamed up at me, his smile making up for any lack of sunshine around us.
"So what're you gonna buy, Yur?" Sigura asked, looking over her shoulder in my direction. "Bet you've got a good amount saved up, right?"
"[I'm... not sure,]" I replied sheepishly, my walk stuttering for a moment. "[I... want to wait until I have more funds before I think about making a purchase beyond the Star. It's important that spending for the team comes first. It's my duty as a team leader, so if any of you need something for work-]"
My train of thought was cut off as a stern looking Sigura lightly bumped the side of my mech, stopping me in my tracks on the middle of the footpath.
"Stop," Sigura commanded. "We have our own money, Yur. We've gone over this. You worry about what you want, alright? Spend your money on yourself. You're our team leader, not our Mom."
"[U-understood,]" I replied sheepishly. "[Sorry. Got it.]"
Streiphen smiled to himself at that, giving me a reassuring pat on the leg before I began to walk again, allowing the group to continue our patrol as the Chimera child glanced out towards the streets around us.
Even when compared to the average bustling day, Divastyr seemed to be even more active during the morning, heedless of the weather and cold. I wore a thin blanket beneath my helmet to keep out the chill, but the natives to Scander seemed to take even this cold weather in stride.
The roads were occupied by civilians, [Merchants], and adventurers alike. Wagons, both wooden like the ones I'd seen back in Addersbrook, and others reinforced with metal and... metal-like materials that didn't respond to my [Honed Vision] lined the streets, going to and from our path. I presumed some of the 'metal' was synthetic, crafted through transmutation for temporary protection, or formed from monster carapaces, shined to perfection. Others were less subtle, using thick, tanned monster hides to coat the side of their wagons, hides that would've been stronger than the otherwise weaker wood.
The wagons were painted with symbols of companies and organisations both vaguely familiar and utterly alien, making them stand apart from the crowd. Beyond wagons, some [Merchants] and adventurers rode Moa, tall Ostrich-like Birds with pouches on their sides, weaving around the traffic. I even spotted the occasional [Runner] darting around wagons, likely from other cities and towns if their outfits and getups were any indication.
On the other side of the street, I heard the shaking of a can. In the middle of a darkened alleyway, a purple skinned Darkling holding the can began to spray a cloud of violet onto the brick wall of a store. His hands moved with great care, evident of love and practice. A [Graffiti Artist] with the [Nimble Hands] Skill, probably. From what I could tell, it was just a design formed for fun, not a gang sign. It was just the warped head of some Darkling character or person of interest I knew nothing about. Still, it looked harmless enough, not designed in a way that struck unease into those who saw it, like... like the Orc's head symbol for Big Tooth had been.
The thought put yet another damper on my mood. A damper I was determined to not let infect my teammates.
"Why're you so keen on gettin' this Vox anyway?" Sigura asked, looking down towards Streiphen as we walked. "You've been goin' on about this thing nonstop."
From behind his hardened black eye-mask, Streiphen's starry gaze turned back towards the Half Nekari Chimera, even if he had to crane his head up to look.
"If we get it, we can do lots of things!" he chirped back. "Like... research, or talking to people from all over!"
"Oh yeah," Sigura murmured, scratching the side of her neck. "It lets you do that too, huh? The 'VoxNet'."
Streiphen's eyes turned to meet my helmet, gazing over his shoulder.
"Maybe... we can find people on there to help Miss Yuri! Or... to find other people like us!"
"Like us?" Sigura asked, her shoulders hunching up. "Other... Chimeras, y'mean? Not a good idea, pipsqueak."
"Why not?" Streiphen asked, almost defensively, as his eyes returned to hers.
"We're all fine," Sigura told us, waving an arm to gesture towards the rest of our group. "Well... mostly fine. Fareel's a bit of a nutcase."
The Fishfolk grinned at that, reaching a webbed hand up to pull down one of his bottom eyelids as his mouth contorted into a ring shape. Just a silly face, or some gesture for Fishfolk, maybe. I had no way of knowing.
"Point is," Sigura continued after a snicker and a smile at Fareel's reaction. "Is that Chimeras can be pretty nuts, pipsqueak. You need to be real careful who you talk to."
"But we're all in this together!" Streiphen retorted, his face taking on a tinge of... combativeness. "We all got changed by Chimera, so we should all help each other out!"
"Not that easy," Sigura replied as we turned a corner, arriving at a busier market street. Even then, people moved to let us pass without complaint, even if we got some wide eyes and civilians ushering each other away as we approached. "Trust me, I met some real freaks before I got that escape team together. A big group of Chimeras can be risky, and we don't know shit about Chimera even though we were cooped up in their facility for so long. Remember that... what was her name? The freaky girl with the Don?"
"[Plague Prophet. The Swampfolk,]" I added.
"Her," Sigura nodded. "She gave me some real weird vibes. Creepy as all Abyss."
"I thought she seemed okay..." Streiphen replied, deflating a little as his eyes turned down towards the pavement.
It wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but now that the others were bringing it up it came rushing to the forefront of my mind. Were there... other Chimeras in the city? How many managed to get loose and escape during the breach? I never saw that... 'Plague Prophet' in the facility, and Sigura never mentioned having seen her either. Did that mean anything, or was I overthinking things?
Were there... other escapees? Could they be out in the Scandian wilds somewhere, seeking food, water, and shelter? Needing help? Were any of them hiding in the slums, like we'd been?
Depressing thoughts, but nothing we could easily put into action. There were many questions we still needed answers to, but knowledge of Chimera as an organisation seemed to be painfully scarce.
"[We can ask around,]" I interjected. "[Even if they're dangerous, we should check around and see if there are others.]"
"Yeah, guess you're right," Sigura responded with a sigh. "We'll ask the Don to keep an eye out, or spread the word to other Sova people."
"[We might need to... ask farther than that,]" I replied uncertainly. "[There are regions to this city beyond Sova. It may be wise to inquire about other territories, too.]"
Sova was now under the control of the Don. The Velvet Star. Before that, it had belonged to Big Tooth. But the others? We knew little of the city beyond this pocket of territory we called our own.
"We don't even know if there are others, Yur," Sigura grimaced, looking back towards me as we walked. "For all we know, that 'Plague Prophet' lady could've been around for far longer than us. Maybe she escaped from a different breakout."
Even that was a strange concept. Did that mean there were breakouts before ours? Would they not have increased security? Did she come from somewhere else? Was she transported here, even against her will? There was the possibility that the Don-
Ting. Ting. Ting.
Sigura's nails rapped against the side of my mech, making a light, reverberating sound.
"You're getting too worked up over this, Yur, I can tell," Sigura commented, patting my mech once with her palm before looking forward once again.
"That just means it's even more important that we get a Vox!" Streiphen added, fists clenched as he looked back towards me. "We can get connected and talk to the community way more easily!"
"Yeah, yeah," Sigura grinned, rolling her eyes. The grin on her face looked stiff. Hiding a seriousness or nervousness she didn't want to have leak out. Or... maybe I was projecting. "Sure, we'll do what we can, but remember that we're still training a bunch of orphan brats and doing work with the Velvet Star. If we let ourselves get overwhelmed with too much shit, it'll affect our job performance."
"[Right,]" I nodded along once Sigura's sight landed on me once again. She... was right.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group as we passed by another small crowd, finally leaving the denser market street.
"So... where should we try and patrol today?" Streiphen asked quietly, hands linked behind his back. "We could ask the [Guardsmen] for other things to do, maybe?"
At least someone was trying to recover the mood. I should've been doing the same, but I had no idea what to say. The tumbling thoughts of Chimera took up too much space in my head to think properly.
"Ugh... I don't wanna have to talk with the Watch any more than we have to," Sigura grumbled. "I'd rather just ask other criminals than them."
If that was the case, I suspected Sigura wouldn't want to talk with adventurers either. I filed that potential suggestion away for later. Still, the thought of Sigura joining the Guild, and the benefits that would provide, rang true in my mind.
"Where could we find some?" Streiphen asked. "We could... go to the warehouse we went to before, but the people there probably don't like us anymore... or... we could talk to the Chained Wolves?"
The warehouse. Where we'd inadvertently burned bridges by crashing a gathering of Caster criminals. And the Chained Wolves-
"Not a fuckin' chance," Sigura growled, echoing my thoughts. "They're too damn dangerous, and not worth the risk."
"Then... maybe we should just patrol a little further from home and see the sights!" Streiphen smiled.
"[Just... we won't leave the Sova region. Just in case,]" I advised, a comment that got three nods of agreement.
From then on, we wandered in silence, keeping our eyes peeled as we gradually traversed the Sova region of Divastyr, heading further from the Velvet Star's base of operations. We spotted some locations familiar to us, passing the Nastrega Shopping Center's tall walls of warm light without going inside. Fareel pointed out a restaurant he'd entered once before, one that specialised in selling seafood. If we were going to patrol properly this early, it was important to do as much as we could first. As much as he grumbled, I told him we could get something to eat there on the way back if he was hungry.
Whenever we came to a crossroad or fork in the street, we took turns picking a random direction to go, taking our time to soak in the people and places of Divastyr. After walking for some time, Sigura began getting more active in the decision making process, making recommendations and comments to try and guide us down certain paths. Guessing she had something specific to share, I gave her the go ahead to properly lead the way, something the others had no objection to.
Following along behind the Half Nekari Chimera, the three of us watched as the bustling crowds of people gave way to trickles of civilians wandering the streets. Eventually, even those too died away to the very occasional individual. The bright neon store signs began to gradually disappear too. Rather than every building being a store, they were replaced by the occasional corner-shop or family owned store.
We passed out of the bustling market areas of the city, entering what looked like a long residential district. A concrete street lined with well-kept houses boasting gardens and a clean presentation. The only thing marring that was the lack of people. Despite it being early morning, there were no children playing outside, nor any people walking with their pets or loved ones.
Some of the houses clearly looked lived in, with recently cut grass, empty mailboxes, and well kept pet houses. They lacked the cold, abandoned look of buildings in the slums, but they'd been marred. Touched by graffiti. Patterns that looked more like random splotches of paint that had been thrown directly from a bucket onto the sides and even fronts of houses. They were all wild mixes of colour, possessing some sort of rhyme or reason to them that I couldn't discern.
The graffiti was new, too. Still fresh.
"[Should we be here?]" I asked, following along behind Sigura as we slowed our walk. The others were on edge, too.
"No, probably not," Sigura admitted, not making any move to turn around.
"[We might scare civilians and residents walking around a place like this,]" I continued. "[Why did you lead us this way?]"
"I came here on a hunch, but there's definitely somethin' up with this place," Sigura murmured back. Streiphen nodded silently in agreement.
"[A hunch? Have you been here before?]" I asked.
"Just once on a night out," she replied.
I'd never been here before in my life, yet I felt a strong feeling of irritation, seeing some of these houses marred by splashes of paint. It didn't feel like it belonged, even if there was no way I could've known that. Was it an instinctive feeling from my unpredictable heart, or an echo from the people that made up my new form?
This place felt off, and so did I.
Silently following behind Sigura, I kept my zone stretched out to its maximum, [Insight] active and ready to spot anything beyond the ordinary. It wasn't long before I found something amiss.
"[Casters up ahead, five of them, potentially hostile,]" I said, informing the trio with me through [Telepathy].
"Enemies?" Sigura replied with wide eyes, glancing back towards me. "Are they adventurers, Yur?"
Even as she asked, I saw her begin to speed up. I couldn't tell if it was out of worry, anticipation, or simply an instinctive reaction after hearing about potential combat.
"[I don't know yet, but-]"
My words cut off as I saw not only their Aera, but what they were doing. Sigura had led us into a cul-de-sac, a street with a ring of road at the end acting as a dead end. In the center of that ring was a patch of lightly swaying grass cleared completely of snow and rain. Flowers stood within the patch, acting as a miniature garden. Or... a memorial.
In the center of the ring stood a tall stone obelisk surrounded by worn, tired candles and fresh bouquets of colourful flowers. It stood tall, taller than the group that surrounded it. Text was etched onto the front of the monument. Names, dates, and a speech about the heroic acts of people who defended the city in its time of need.
A memorial for the Miracle Workers, the Casters who fought off the Disciples and managed to kill one of their members.
As little as I truly knew about the city's history or who these 'Disciples' were, their impact was clear everywhere I looked. The slums, the orphans, the shift in power within the Sova region. All of those changes and consequences were due in part to the Disciples. The ones who had fended them off, the Miracle Workers, were viewed and remembered highly by those I'd spoken with. I thought their memory had been a sacred topic.
Until now.
Surrounding the monument, standing in the midst of a miniature garden, were a group of five unknown Casters.
Earlier, I'd been thinking about Sigura's battle against the Goons yesterday. How she'd been able to easily defeat them without even relying on her magic. While civilians were easy to defeat, Casters were different. Neither of us could rely solely on the strength our abilities granted us, as there was never a situation where our victory against an unknown Caster was guaranteed. If Casters like Sharktooth and the Golem gravity manipulator existed, who had effective ways of dealing with my magic, then other Casters that were capable of countering our abilities also existed.
I didn't know who these people were, but they outnumbered us. More than that, they seemed like they knew what they were doing. They weren't dressed or outfitted like the common Goon. Settling this without violence was preferable, but if I needed to step in to protect my team, I would.
The most unassuming of the group may have passed for a regular civilian in the middle of a crowd if not for his Aera. Through my [Insight], I saw that he had a clear, silvery aura, one that moved like gently flowing water. Thick streaks of colour moved along the silvery surface, looking like swimming Eels or Snakes.
He was a man with pale cream skin silvery-white hair that puffed outward. It looked like a miniature afro, or the frizzly looking hair of a Gnome, even if he had a Human's height. He wore a light moustache and beard of the same colour, which looked out of place given his Half Elven pointed ears sticking up from the sides of his head. I knew the facial hair of Elven races grew slower than that of others, and I'd never seen one with quite as much as him. It looked... unnatural, almost. A stark contrast to his ordinary looking outfit, a brown apron stained with paint over a light blue puffy jacket akin to the one Streiphen used to wear, and darker blue denim trousers. All around his waist, I saw paint cans, all open and exposed to the chilly Scandian air, held in place along a brown belt.
Standing behind him with arms crossed was a being that stood even taller than Sigura, with a stark, grey aura dotted with very deliberate looking black 'cracks' that formed in thin, interconnected clusters, branching outwards without curving or bending. The eight foot behemoth looked like a mix between a Centaur and a Goliath. His upper half was bare-chested and muscled, covered in rough, stony grey skin, while his bottom half was coated with puffy white fur. The small tail and the nature of his hooves and fur led me to view him as more Goat-like than Horse-like, something I'd never seen on a Centaur.
He had long, puffy white hair, some of which draped around the pair of small, nubbly light grey horns poking up from his forehead and his stern expression. Red rectangular marks were painted horizontally beneath his eyes, with another painted vertically along his chin. His arms were crossed, and his eyes, which glowed with [Insight], were locked firmly on our group.
The second of the group silently staring us down was a Half Elf, one with the telltale 'glow' of their kind that made her appear 'sharper'. More real, almost. Her aura was strange, like a slow moving, transparent mesh of painted colour in layers that blended into one another, moving so fluidly that it seemed like something unreal. Ethereal and beautiful. Otherworldly.
She wore a bright red dress and slip-on shoes that didn't seem fitting for combat nor the weather. She wore a steel ring on her finger, with a small, glowing red crystal embedded in it. The Aera the glowing crystal emitted carried a similar 'impression' to my Heater Boxes. A ring designed to keep her warm despite her outfit? She had long black hair, light brown skin, and... a red blindfold covering both eyes, matching the colour of her dress.
With the aid of my [Sensory Zone], seeing beneath the blindfold was simple. Both eyes were wide open, and the only word I could use to describe them was 'breathtaking'. I knew that the eyes of most Half Elves tended to have two colours, unlike the eyes of Humans, but this was on another level. Both of her eyes were sparkling, shifting kaleidoscopes of endless colour. She was staring directly at us despite the blindfold, and she didn't seem to be using [Insight] either. A Skill, maybe? Eyes overly sensitive to light?
Standing next to her was a woman wearing a matching dress and shoes, albeit with no ring on her finger and clad all in black. Her skin was as black as her clothing, dark as night, or charcoal. She was a tall woman, one I suspected to be of Half Elven origin given her pointed ears, but I'd never seen an Elf like her before. A Western Drow, maybe, given that her skin was even darker than Streiphen's. Her ears had small holes on the bottom, as though they'd been nicked by a blade. It didn't seem like a normal injury either. Both ears were nicked in exactly the same spot.
Her 'hair' was a blurry stream of wavy black mist that hung in the air, floating much like Yrlack's brain had. Ethereal and unreal. Her eyes were no different to the rest of her body, entirely black with the exception of two white pinpricks to serve as pupils.
Her Half Elven 'glow' and Aera were as dark as she was, making her appear as though she was constantly clad in shifting shadow. The impression of her Aera felt... familiar, in a way I couldn't easily place. Like something I'd felt before.
I hoped that the dresses meant they weren't here to fight. Or... they were used to fighting in dresses. Casters had done stranger things in the pursuit of cohesive identities for magical growth.
The final Caster within the group was in the process of painting long, red strokes over the front of the monument. Desecrating it. He wasn't a race I'd ever seen before. He stood at 5'7, his body covered in light brown skin-tight fur. His Aera was multicoloured, a tapestry of differently coloured patches in rough square and diamond shapes slotted together like a malformed jigsaw.
He had a pair of glowing red eyes with small black dots in the center. Both eyes were surrounded by natural looking white rings with small spike-like patterns at the 'corners'. A patch of white fur sat around his neck like a collar, a colour that led me to believe the purple coloured hair swirling up from his head like the end of a paintbrush to be dyed. A pair of thin antennae with light brown furry ball-like ends stuck out from within his hair.
His hair had the same shape as the end of the giant paintbrush attached to his back, and the smaller paintbrush dripping red held in the black curled claws of one hand. He was flying in the air to reach the top of the monument, held aloft by a pair of light brown wings flapping gently. The wings were similar to those seen on Butterflies, albeit with tipped ends and white at the edges. White 'rings' of fur in the center area of both wings surrounded purple circles, the same shade as his hair.
He was garbed in a loose robe with drooping sleeves and a high collar. The end of the sleeves, the high collar, and the back of the robe which had a tailcoat-like design, were all black. The rest was coloured much like his aura, formed of coloured squares that slotted together along the outfit, making him look like he was wearing a moving jigsaw.
"Are they the Casters?" Sigura asked drily, raising an eyebrow. My allies were all using [Insight] now, too. They could all see what I saw.
At the end of the street, I saw the Centaur/Goliath Halfblood coughing into a fist, garnering the attention of his allies. The other Casters, bar the blindfolded Half Elf, looked towards him. With a nod, he directed their attention towards us as [Insight] flared around their eyes in unison.
They didn't instantly attack us. Was that a good sign that this could be resolved without conflict, or was I being too optimistic?
"Shame," Sigura grinned, flexing her fingers as her claws snapped out. "Looks like we're not gettin' the drop on 'em anyway."
Yeah. I was being far too optimistic. This was likely to come to blows one way or another. If they didn't throw the first hit, Sigura would.
"[What're you doing?]" I called out, taking the initiative as I put a silver-clad foot forward, extending my [Telepathy] to all five as I began to gingerly lead my team forward.
"What's it look like?" the Butterfly-man responded with a grin, flying upwards to sit on the top of the monument, swinging one furred leg over the other. "We're giving this place a fresh coat of paint."
"[You can take your painting somewhere else. This is the Don's territory, and we won't tolerate vandalism,]" I told them. Maybe I could intimidate them into submission. Unlikely, but... he didn't sound like the type who'd go home if I asked politely. After Abalone, I'd experienced talking with people like this before.
"That so?" he smiled, tilting his head, causing the antennae to bob to the side. "I'm terrified! Let's see the Don do something about this then! Or... maybe he'll just run away again. Who knows?"
Again? What was he referring to? The Don giving up his seat of power when the Disciples came, or something else?
Sigura bristled, taking the insult against the Don as an insult against her. Not a good sign.
"[Why are you doing this? We don't want this to come to blows if we don't have to,]" I said, ensuring the approach of our team was slow and steady.
"Speak for yourself, Yur," Sigura muttered to herself.
The Butterfly-man's antennae twitched as his mouth curled into a grin, revealing sharp teeth.
"We're asking what'll happen if the Don ends up in another fight he can't win," the Insectoid responded. "Maybe he'll go on 'hiatus' again. Run away with his tail between his legs to let some other losers take over and keep the spotlight for a while. Or... maybe you're just hoping you can live in the past without a care in the world like everyone else in this region."
This region? They weren't criminals from Sova?
"Reputation and access to a few extra helping hands like you four are the only things keeping the Don relevant," the man continued. "We all saw how much you struggled against those Orcs. But what about a fight against a real group with more than just a handful of Casters worth a damn? You won't be able to stay afloat."
The woman in the red dress took a step forward. I stopped moving, and my team followed suit, keeping in line with me.
"This is for your own good, Velvet Star," the woman spoke, her voice soft. "The people of Sova need to be taught a harsh lesson. They need to learn that they can't rely on rulers that will run away at the first sign of trouble, or rulers that get beaten by the first semi-competent challenger that does the slightest amount of preparation."
A lesson? That was their excuse for defacing a monument to the dead?
"The fuck're you tryin' to say?" Sigura growled, her eyes narrowing.
"The Miracle Workers gave their lives to give the people of Divastyr a false, fleeting hope," she said, sweeping one arm around to gesture towards the monument. "The people need to open their eyes. To stop relying on the dead for protection."
"They have protection!" Streiphen called out, his face betraying his anxiety. "They've got us!"
"Do they?" she retorted. "If we wanted to end the lives of everyone in this neighbourhood, we could've done it before any of you arrived. They would have been helpless against a group of organised Casters seeking to cause real damage. The people need to wake up and realise that they're responsible for their own safety. They have to be able to protect themselves, and this monument is in the way of that."
"Some people care for that monument," Sigura retorted, her pupils narrowing into slits. "It means a lot to some people, even if you don't give a shit about it."
"As things stand, the dead are getting in the way of those that remain," she spoke. "This monument, and the memory of the Casters it's dedicated to, creates a sense of security that doesn't exist in reality. We walked around this neighbourhood for the better part of thirty minutes, and nobody could do anything about our vandalism."
"You people from the Star have always been the kind to live in the past," the Butterfly Insectoid grinned. "The Casters around back then were the only thing keeping your weakened group alive."
"We're new to town," Sigura replied, her eyes turning from the woman to the Insectoid. "We don't know much about the past, but we're not gonna let you cause shit here either."
"We're beating you up for your own sake," the Insectoid called back.
"Abyss're you talkin' about? Beating us up?" Sigura growled, flashing a toothy smile as her fingers flexed once again, veins popping out along her arms. "You haven't even thrown a punch or Spell yet."
Given the direction this was going, someone was bound to attack sooner rather than later.
"[These Miracle Workers. They're the ones who fell during the Disciple attack, aren't they?]" I asked, trying to buy time to figure something out.
"They fostered an untruthful peace," the woman said. "It was noble of them to challenge the Disciples, but foolish to waste their lives fighting when the people needed them most, especially when they knew they couldn't win. All they did was plant hollow courage in the hearts of the people. Because of their actions, others recklessly challenged the Disciples, meeting their ends and wasting their lives, paving the way for even more despair and death. Posturing without strength to back it up is worse than meaningless. It's harmful."
She turned around, leaving her back to us as she gazed upon the monument.
"When we're done here, we'll leave. First, we have to ensure this monument can't be something people will look to as a symbol of 'triumph'. If this is how the fallen are celebrated, we encourage others to sacrifice themselves without meaning to follow in their footsteps just by letting this stay here. People need to focus on their own strength, not that of dead men and women."
"And you're spitting on the dead to try and make some stupid point or power play?" Sigura asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's more than that," the woman sighed, turning back around. Her expression had changed. It had become more serious.
"This is a declaration of war, Velvet Star," boomed the hard voice of the towering Goliath/Centaur Halfblood. "We will not attack today, nor tomorrow, but know that your days are numbered. Soon, a battle will find you, one that will judge whether you are worthy of your reputation, or whether you should crawl back to that 'hiatus' where you belong."
"How strong are they, Vis?" asked the woman with skin as black as night. Both she and the man with the paint cans around his waist turned their eyes towards the blindfolded woman.
"The large one uses Force Magic and Invention Magic. The Half Nekari uses Heat and Light Magic. The Fishfolk uses Water Magic and Familiar Magic," the woman, 'Vis', spoke.
"What about the kid?" the paint can man asked. "Noncombatant?"
"No," Vis replied with a shake of her head. "He and the Half Nekari possess incredible potential, but his abilities aren't yet developed."
Not 'developed'? Whatever ability she was using to analyse us, it wasn't simple [Insight]. She was able to detect Fareel's budding Water Magic, but not Streiphen's Smoke Magic? Or his ability to float?
"You've got a good pair of eyes if you can see that much," Sigura grinned.
She said nothing in response to that, but her head drooped down towards the pavement ever so slightly.
"Can't we just talk this out?" Streiphen pleaded. "We don't have to fight!"
"That attitude is poison for your people," the woman with the blindfold retorted. "Without the desire to seek Experience and magical understanding, you won't survive in Divastyr, or even Scander as a whole for that matter. We're showing the people that their protectors aren't enough. They have to take safety into their own hands."
"So you're not gonna back down? Works for me," Sigura grinned, cracking her knuckles as she began to walk forward. With a sigh, Streiphen gripped the handle of his warped blade with both hands, following close behind her as Fareel's chest began to glow a brighter blue.
The wings of the Butterfly-man began to flap as he took to the air once again, his clawed feet touching down on the soft garden grass. Alongside him, the woman with the blindfold stepped forward.
"You're fighting too, Vis?" the black skinned woman asked, dark eyes widening.
"We have to make a statement," she replied solemnly, looking towards the winged Insectoid standing next to her. "Swatch and I will fight them. Sfumato, you and Medium will back us up if necessary. Contour will displace them or act as an escape if their reinforcements arrive."
Both Sfumato and Medium, the black skinned woman and the painter with the apron, nodded in unison.
"Understood," the Goliath/Centaur Halfblood, Contour, nodded with assent.
"You're taking this too seriously, Vis!" the Butterfly-man, 'Swatch', grinned, pulling his weapon from his back. It was a massive paintbrush, one with a long, dark blue handle with black diamond-like patterns travelling up along its length.
"We won't need reinforcements, not for the likes of you," Sigura grinned, stretching out both arms. "Y'know, I've grown to really fuckin' hate Butterflies as of late, so hopefully this'll be cathartic."
"[Use your Familiars to support them or disrupt their allies, Yakamoz,]" I told Fareel alone. "[We'll act as support.]"
He threw me a brief, disapproving look with both eyebrows furled. I know they didn't want me to fight, but I'd healed. I couldn't sit here idly against Casters like them. They knew our abilities if they'd seen our fights, and we didn't know anything about theirs.
"Good thing I'm not a Butterfly then, but I appreciate the compliment," Swatch grinned back as both his and Vis' [Mantles] began to glow. "I'm a Mothman."
"That so?" Sigura grinned toothily as both her and Streiphen's [Mantles] flared to life. "Then you should know I'm a bad matchup for you. Y'know what happens when a Moth flies too close to light?"
Sigura's hand reached around, grabbing the handle of the blade I'd crafted for her. She swung it off her back as the Aera around her arm thickened, spreading along the sharp edge of the enchanted blade, staining the steel a deep orange and gold hue. She'd spread her [Sheen] through an artefact.
"They get burned," Sigura growled as both pairs prepared for battle.