Remus was bleeding out on the floor when the Wild Sect rudely interrupted.
Through much trial and error, Remus discovered that burning up one's energy stores wasn’t ideal for ensuring a speedy recovery. The open wounds lining his chest — the same injuries he had gained from a particularly beserk Cluster — soaked his tunic, and if he had any more reason to succumb to the call of sleep, bleeding out dangerous amounts of Ichor would likely be it.
All that fury, all of that blind resolve had dwindled to the burnt wick of a blown-out candle. The sound of his breathing was all that Remus could focus upon, to both ignore the crushing weight threatening to finish him off, and the chaos occurring mere feet away.
Brison and the Pet-Keeper, or so the Unbounded had started to refer to himself as, during bizarre bouts of eccentric rambling, had been at it for five minutes straight. Brison did not look good in the slightest, collapsing to one knee and forcing himself back up, just in time to avoid a lethal blow, every few seconds.
The Pet-Keeper, smiling smugly as ever, would score full points at a medical check-up. He was more dishevelled than anything, but this seemed like the trivial inconvenience it was, when his unmarked flesh was taken into account.
He didn’t cackle quite so jovially once the engraving on his forehead flickered out, however.
Whatever that illustration of a heart was, losing it obviously was a great cause of distress for the Pet-Keeper. “Damn it.” They gritted a set of flawless teeth. When diving spears of wood impaled him through the stomach, they appeared even less pleased. “Double damn it.”
The shock of the moment sent a newfound wave of adrenaline surging through Remus, and grasping the opportunity, he quickly vaulted out from under his imprisoning debris.
Back on the battlefield, however dubious the colour of his tunic, Remus was granted a much clearer view of the battlefield. Peering through the pervading greyness of lingering smoke, Aziel’s unconscious body was being carried by a sprinting clansman; Daisy still preoccupied with another team of butchering fighters. The heart in his throat making it impossible to swallow, Remus stared out blankly at the razzed plain that had previously been the Ambition Clan’s base of operations. He couldn’t lament for too long however, as the shifting of cloaks in the distance grasped his attention: more specifically, their shade: an emerald green.
The bloody, hulking form of Brison grasped the Pet-Keeper by the throat, pounding them against the ground again and again in his greatest string of blows all fight long. Blood oozed out of the Pet-Keeper’s mouth, and before Remus could wonder what had occurred to his apparent invulnerability, he spluttered, “why must I-” he received a mouthful of mud, “always lose track of the time?”
By the looks of it, the rest of the Unbounded forces had been rounded out, or left dead, dissolving in a sect turned graveyard.
But the losses . . . Remus let out a gawky croaking sound, not caring enough to pay the newcomers any mind, despite the imminent danger. The losses had not been worth it. Not in the least bit. Aziel had looked okay, nothing too strenuous afflicting him, but one could never be too sure. Not knowing how he would cope if he lost Aziel too, Remus stopped ignoring Elmore’s silhouette on the horizon.
Several things happened at once.
For one thing, as the Pet-Keeper and Daisy made a surprise flee, a barrage of projectiles from The Wild Sect rained down heavily upon them. Daisy had been reduced to a fourth of their original size, beaten and on the verge of death, but the Pet-Keeper plopped the bloody bundle against his side. For a being afflicted with a horrible case of internal bleeding, the Pet-Keeper was remarkably swift. They reached the boundaries of the sect, before a portal of violet light enveloped them whole. The burst of purple faded, and nothing but the destruction they had left remained of the two.
Brison took in deep breaths that included his entire chest, and everyone else present joined him for a moment of respite. Nobody asked a thing, for doing so would require them to accept the devastation that had robbed them of both a home, and clansmen not a soul dared to attribute a number to.
Strength returning to him just enough to hide behind the remains of a crushed hut, Remus watched with bated breath as Brison offered a hand to the evident leader of The Wild Sect squadron. To Remus’ surprise, the woman was distinctly not Elmore.
“Whoever you are,” Brison began, voice hoarse, and interrupted by occasional pants, “I cannot thank you enough. The entire Ambition Sect is in your debt.”
All the clansmen present dropped to their knees, and even out of view, Remus found himself instinctually joining them.
For the longest pause of Remus’ life, only the rustling of wind carrying away the dust of the base could be heard.
Abruptly, the woman stepped forth, and Remus recognised Elmore and his two cousins standing awkwardly, amongst the ranks of the squadron.
“So they know their place . . .” the woman mused with a deep voice, fixed with a light smile just short of a snicker. With her voice raised, even Brison stood to attention.
“From here on out, the Ambition Clan is custody of The Wild Sect. You will be treated as a minor fief, under the rule of her Ma-”
She talked still through the crescendo of outraged refusals. By the woman’s indifferent glaze to the eyes, she would forget about the tide of anguish the second her tasks here were complete. The complete lack of any sort of sympathy in the slightest was painfully apparent, and frustrated Remus to no end. Blood thumping in his ears, he could barely hear her next words of overt mockery.
“Oh? Sorry to say, you have no choice in the matter. Sure, you could fight-”
At that moment, one clansman, who was either crazed out of his mind, or beyond courageous, dashed towards the woman. Flames covered his body in one shimmering mass. The squad-leader didn’t expend the effort to look the shrieking hooligan’s way. Clicking a finger, roots sprouted under his dashing feet. The man fell, and oak spikes ruptured through one side of him, and out the other. He stopped screaming.
“As I was saying,” nothing but a few horrified squirms escaped the lips of the observers. “Resist if you must. I hold no qualms with increasing the dead. Heck, with less of you to rule over, you’d just be lessening my workload.”
Whilst Remus wasn’t a fanatic admirer of The Wild Sect, he had never despised them. They had ample reason to seek justice for Remus’ actions, and were reasonable at the worst of times. But the woman before him right now . . . such cruelty could never be warranted.
Eyes turned to Brison for support, but they were left waiting for a rebuttal that would never come. All of his fear, pain, and complete and utter exhaustion rendered Remus unable to move any further. He unwillingly lowered to the ground, bleeding only reduced somewhat. He knew with a foul certainty that there was nothing Brison could do. His sect had never suffered such a dire turn of events, and with their numbers weak-to-the-bone after a fierce attack, they didn’t have the power in strength or numbers to pose a meaningful resistance.
One sect strangled by the economy, and the second reduced to slaves.
And Remus couldn’t help but feel both fates were his fault; his responsibility.
Eyes blazing a neon blue, wisps of flame masking the rising moisture, Remus’ last thoughts before succumbing to the darkness yet again was one of vengeance.
Rash decisions be damned, I’ll butcher you all.
----------------------------------------
For an hour, Elmore did nought but watch in stunned silence, as the Ambition Sect was completely overtaken. Willow, the woman overseeing this operation, had always spooked him as a child; his early years spent in the same base as her, in Territory Five. Something about the Vanguard was beyond eerie, something about her demeanour he had never been able to pinpoint.
If he was perfectly honest, he had had his inhibitions when it was first revealed that she was the back-up Juniper had been referring to — a unit made up of over twenty middle-Ranked soldiers in tow, from the bottom of Emblazed to the peak of Foot-Soldier. But not once had he expected her to be quite so sadistic.
Considering his own stupefied response to not only Willow’s actions, but the sheer chaos the Unbounded had unleashed on a base so far out from the front lines, Elmore knew his cousins would be much worse for wear. Ash, for once, dropped his carefree attitude to engage in a fierce, one man trembling competition. Not quite so bad, at least externally, Koa displayed no outward difference. But the hollow depth to his unblinking eyes . . . they told a different story entirely.
Clansmen had been rounded up in temporary bases of either half-destroyed huts, or quickly constructed tents. There were a few clansmen designated to each group, as the intricacies of The Wild Sect’s control were organised.
Finally, Willow’s approach swept Elmore out of his frozen reverie.
“Elmore.”
He stood to attention immediately. “Yes ma’am. How may I be of assistance?”
She glowered. “If you could help me locate clansmen Remus, Aziel, and Brison, that would be a wonderful start.”
Elmore would have cursed, if his environs were any different. That sneaky weasel! He inwardly screeched. Perhaps if Remus hadn’t evaded him so persistently, Elmore wouldn’t have thought too much of a few clansmen slipping out of their grasp. The Wild Sect often took over dying clans like these to expand their military might, and a few runaways were to be expected.
And yet, that was ignoring the bigger picture. A sect leader had evaded them. A Warlord scheming against their squadrons wouldn’t be good at all.
“If it's any help, I can round up a few of our men to form a search team. With our spare numbers, we should cover a substantial amount of land pretty quickly.”
She waved a hand. “Already on it, my dear.”
Ignoring the cold affinity that seemed to linger on Willow’s every word, Elmore continued, unperturbed. “Shall I join them? My cousins and I are unoccupied.”
“The added help would be beneficial, but that's soon to change. It's time to fill you in on the details of your next mission.”
The hairs on Elmore’s nape stood up. For days now, he’d been eagerly awaiting this information. Second chances from Juniper were slim, and he was keen to make use of it like the diamond in the rough the opportunity was.
“I couldn’t inform you of its contents until a certain someone arrived,” Juniper explained. “Donovan?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
As if manifesting right at that moment, a tall, built man strolled into view. Elmore would have jolted in shock in any other circumstance. The draped figure had appeared out of nowhere, and he could tell instantly that this newcomer had the makings of an assassin.
At that precise moment, two thoughts clicked in Elmore’s head. Something about espionage had been Juniper’s words, and if this ‘Donovan’ had anything to do with it . . .
“I should probably explain some things beforehand.” Willow put both hands on her hips. “First, you and your cousins will be heading to the Ravaged Lands. More specifically, Hell’s Floor. Your mission is to infiltrate the Chaos Sect, bringing back any information you may come across.”
Elmore swallowed. Suffice to say, he wasn’t exactly cut out for this line of work. Second of all, he could hardly understand the purposes of the task in the first place. “Excuse me, but why the Chaos Sect specifically? I understand the fugitive Violet’s connection with them, but aren’t they actively funding the search for her arrest?”
Willow shrugged, and out of the corner of his eye, Elmore took careful notice that Donovan was still yet to mutter a word. “They’re . . . suspicious, to say the least. I don’t know the full extent of Juniper’s reasoning, but some basic points are their unknown reasons for turning on Violet, and Verity’s strange disappearance. For a girl to go missing, and two rabid Unbounded to instantly appear not ten minutes later . . . it’s fishy.”
At last, the man at Willow’s side was fully addressed. “Donovan is a Foot-Soldier from the Shadow Clan, specifically sent away from the front lines so we can use his particular set of skills. If anyone will get you into that base relatively unnoticed, it's Donovan.”
The man offered Elmore a handshake, words methodical, with no excitement behind them. They went through one of Elmore’s ears, and out the other, as he examined the Foot-Soldier from head to toe.
Earning his clan’s name, Donovan’s tunic, cloak, and lower garments were all of a severe jet shade. His eyes were a troubling grey, black hair spilling over his head in a neat batch of a medium size. He held himself lithely, as if trained to quickly manoeuvre out of the path of any sudden attacks.
Smiling awkwardly at the man, Elmore quickly diverted his attention back to Willow.
“I appreciate any help we can get, especially someone as qualified as Donovan. But why use us for such a prestigious mission? It's a little dangerous if this goes wrong, don't you think?” When met with no immediate reply, Elmore expanded on his point. “Not to undercredit us, but my cousins and I cap at Emblazed, and a Foot-Soldier on top of that, whilst nice, seems less than ideal for a mission so serious. If Nova discovers what we’re up to, he’ll have a reason to openly hate Juniper. Perhaps, to enact even worse than open grudges.”
Elmore stopped himself firmly there. Not even he was a fan of where his thoughts were leading him.
“I hold the same grievances,” the Vanguard Willow admitted, “but Juniper’s logic stands to opposition. She states that a group of overall less power is certain to attract less attention. In theory, this raises our chances of success.”
In theory wasn’t the most reliable of foundations, but Elmore would take it.
“Right, I must be off,” Willow abruptly said, already marching off someplace else. “I recommend gathering Koa and Ash, and leaving immediately. Hell’s Floor is quite a distance.”
Before he uttered another word, the woman sped off, with unnatural agility. Feeling acutely aware of the two’s shared isolation, Elmore blinked at Donovan’s unrevealing features. He did not like what he found in them.
----------------------------------------
Violet stood absolutely still, as the woman of her nightmares met her gaze. Pippin was resting on Veida’s uplifted hand, stuffing his beak with a wide variety of seeds. The moment seemed to stretch on for uncomfortably long, until Violet realised that an entire minute had passed, and she still was yet to speak.
“ . . . gone mute, have you?” Veida asked, though her voice wasn’t harsh. Violet had been expecting them to be aggressive, but the researcher held herself together, at least superficially.
“No.” Violet hastily muttered. “Your letter? What did you want to speak about?”
More agonising silence. Apparently words were worth more than diamond, for neither of them were willing to give anything away easily.
“First off Violet,” the temporary quietude was snapped short, “I have to . . .” the woman hesitated, as if retching up a stone in her throat that only came undone out of sheer moral obligation. “ . . . apologise. My actions at the Flame Sect were uncalled for, and-”
“Save it.” Violet huffed. “I get it. I don’t suppose you called me all the way out here to rendezvous, solely to apologise. What’s your real reasoning?”
The woman's lips curved downwards. “Violet, it may not seem like it, but I’m being sincere here.”
Really sounds like it, Violet mentally scoffed, but she failed to muster any ferocity behind it.
“I have some news to exchange,” she continued, eyebags somehow having deepened since their last meeting, ”and plans to form. But first of all, the news: the Flame Sect is under attack.”
Violet blinked. “ . . . What?”
“The Flame Sect is under attack. One of our minor camps has been completely flattened, and the main base is being bombarded every other day.”
Still, the words wouldn’t surrender their meaning. “What?”
The older woman exhaled, the motion emphasised by the dropping of shoulders. Violet, for the first time, felt the weight of Veida’s years. It was almost as if she had gained a decade’s worth of ageing in only a few Passings’ time. That sort of transformation only occurred under the most intensive of situations. Sect leaders often amassed a few grey hairs after their first few Rebirths at the post, but for the same to occur to Veida so quickly, as only a minor advisor to the sect . . .
Something most definitely was amiss. Speech heralded meaning, and Violet, stumbling back a step, finally took to heart the woman’’s words. “Attacked? By Unbounded?”
For the hundredth instance, silence. If there were a god of uncomfortable pauses, they must have been having the time of their immortal life right about then.
“Indeed. How do you know specifically by Unbounded, dare I ask?” Veida craned back as she spoke, and Violet wanted to claw her hair out at the action.
“Look Veida, I’m not aligned with the Unbounded! Do you think I was behind this?” She took frantic glances all around, half expecting a band of assassins to be hiding in the foliage. “I might be part of their damned species, but I thought I was human until a few Durations ago! I only came here because it was on the way to the Ravaged Lands, but now I’m starting to regret that choice.”
Violet didn’t care one bit about how loud she was screeching. Veida had been the most dominant presence poisoning her thoughts ever since their last explosive encounter; if there was ever a chance to get over her grudges, there was no time like the present.
“Heavens Violet, I didn’t mean to accuse.” Violet wasn’t certain if she could take the hurt in Veida’s scrunching features for truth or not. She wanted to, but if last time was anything to go by . . . she shivered. “I’m sorry.”
There were so many elephants in the room that it would be renovated into a circus, given one or two more unresolved issues.
Leander — Veida’s deceased little brother. Violet was fairly sure, with a daunting certainty, that his death at the hands’ of an Unbounded had been the prime reason behind the researcher’s outburst. Discovering that your newly made friend was one of the same kin that slaughtered your sibling, was sure to spark some past trauma.
Recalling the atrocities her species were capable of, Violet wanted to bury herself in a hole, someplace out in the middle of nowhere. Preferably, where she would never be found. That way, Descent would never be subject to the horror she was well aware of her Unbounded form to be capable of.
“I’ll take your word for now.” Violet eventually spoke, not ever inching closer, “but any other part of my trust is out of your reach. We’re business partners from now on, nothing more, nothing less.”
Veida didn’t object, and not once did that wistful look leave her eyes. In a swelling up of emotion, Violet couldn’t help but feel empathetic for the woman. Her brother dead, her clan under siege, and their friendship in tatters.
But only time and slow healing would change that last part. It couldn’t be rushed. If it ever it were to be restored.
“We’ll continue to communicate via Pippin.” Veida suddenly continued. “You mentioned travelling to the south-east kingdom . . . overruled by the Anarchy Syndicate, correct? The Chaos Clan has growing influence in that corner of the world. If they really are the puppet-show of the Unbounded, as you say they are-”
“They are.”
“-then we're in deep trouble. That fellow you mentioned before, Akuji . . .”
She didn’t have to finish. Violet could infer the rest of her sentence, and the unspoken question at its end. “Indeed. I’m going to search for him. Or, whatever remains of the Warlord.”
Veida nodded. “I wish I could send you help . . . but our forces are occupied with the invasions. I hope you understand. And there’s also the confidentiality of all of this.”
Violet nodded solemnly. Her throat was incredibly parched, but for reasons far irrelevant from thirst. “You mean to say, you have no plans of reporting this to the rest of the gods?” A range of emotions splashed inside of Violet like warring tides, reducing each other to mingling droplets. They settled in a perturbed sea, each emotion never quite surviving long enough to truly be felt, in any meaningful way.
“Until we have evidence Veida-”
A voice up above cut them off, resonating power with every syllable. “-no one would believe you.”
In unison, both of their heads shot to the hovering image of Juniper, the visual oddity that was a moving current of branches sustaining her weight. They originated from a balcony jutting out of the Hall of Thrones, with the rigid might of ancient trees, despite the fact the boroughs had only been manifested seconds ago. To Violet's knowledge, anyway. How long had she been eavesdropping?
“Do continue,” the God-Graced urged, “quite the enlightening discussion you were in the midst of. Very interesting indeed.”
“How much did you hear?” Veida asked, genuinely sounding panicked. “You had no right-”
“You’re in my kingdom.” She said matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to punish either of you.”
Violet somehow managed to keep upright on trembling legs, as Juniper’s all-seeing eyes settled on her. They must have been ancient — at least nearing two centuries or more to have amassed so much strength — damn near impossible to withstand. “That includes you, Violet. You’ve revealed yourself to be a crucial part of all this; a vital instrument that could give us the edge we need to get the upper hand on these invading vermin.”
Her eyes gained a wary crossness to them, as she warned, “but if I ever, if for a second, suspect you of endangering us all, you will come to realise just how fragile my mercy really is. And, how could it slip my mind, there’s no room under the blanket of my safety for your dear friend, Remus. I have no reason to protect him, and, so, for that reason, I won’t.”
It was very possible that Juniper was expecting Violet to be overjoyed at this part. To start cheering now that there was one less city that would vaporise her on sight. But aside from this brief excursion, Hybrid was still untouchable, with the Sight, Chaos, and Wealth Sects so prevalent. Besides, she was so stunned that even the chemicals in her brain seemed paralysed.
“Thank you, I suppose.” It was a lame response, perhaps a little rude for a literal Queen, but it was the most she could offer at that moment.
“It would no doubt benefit you, to speak a little more formally, if you wish to separate yourself from your kin.” Juniper continued, a beautiful array of flowers blooming upon her makeshift dais. “And to think my suspicions were well-placed . . . I didn’t expect the realities to exceed my expectations this much, but I find myself believing you.”
The sound of Veida gulping was tangible, all moisture eradicated in a few intensive seconds. “What are you going to do? Expose the truth? Rally forces against the Chaos Clan? Council the gods? I believe they can be consulted in times of extreme danger.”
The woman took a breath, delicate black hair shifting as she did so. “Absolutely nothing.”
Violet had never known silence to have a depth, but this one felt kilometres deep.
The sect leader had her reasoning. “It's too early to act so fast, unfortunately. Our lack of evidence is one thing, and such valuable information solely in the hands of those I choose . . .” She smiled, a faraway look in her dark, sapphire eyes. “Quite the tactical advantage, would you not agree?”
Veida possessed the courage a statue-still Violet did not. “You think to make a game out of this? To play with millions of lives?”
Something about Juniper changed. Or perhaps it was multiple things. A hundred, miniscule details, all combining to form a mien no poor soul should have to face. Wisely, Veida pressed no further. It was the best for her health, after all.
“I would word yourself very carefully, next time.” Juniper advised.
Violet would have to give her credit where credit is due, however little. Most God-Graced in her position would be holding a weapon to the speaker’s lips right about now.
“I don’t only do this for personal gain, but if this became common knowledge, the Unbounded would be put under immense pressure. Think of how many units they could have patrolling all over Descent, all ready to go out in one last fiery blaze, the second their situation grows dire. Information is what we need right now. Enough information to deal with their higher-ups in one fell swoop.”
All three women looked at each other, anxious to spit out a hundred things, and eager to mutter nothing at all. Minutes drifted by, until Violet found herself all on her own, glassy eyed. Unsure entirely of what to think.