Elmore let the warmth of his drink devour the fatigue of his travels.
The Ravaged Lands was his least favourite of all the major cities to visit. Every night posed greater danger, you couldn’t tell if the locals of each splintered outpost would be more willing to offer you a warm meal or a tankard full of poison, and the sect leaders were all varying degrees of insane.
But, gods forbid the thought, they knew how to cook a finer meal than any other place on Descent combined. That was likely his bored tongue speaking after eating nothing but tasteless rations, but the quality of the food spoke for itself.
In unison with Koa, Ash, and Donovon, who bizarrely, had vouched not to drink, he leaned back in his chair. With a full stomach, the crackling fire of the humble restaurant to soothe his ears, and Ash finally ceasing to complain, Elmore’s eyelids fluttered downwards with a growing resolve.
Who opted to make these seats so comfy?
It took everything he had not to drift off right then and there. No matter how friendly this place appeared, at least superficially, Elmore had promised himself to only sleep in environments he could guarantee to be fairly safe. If a bar fight broke out, which wouldn’t be a rare sight in this hellhole, his unconscious, sprawled form would be none the wiser.
Elmore raised his head off the table. His half-closed eyes settled on the sight of his slumbering cousins. Typical, he thought, even the mental note sounding slurred. But, angling himself a little more leftwards, a fully conscious Donovon stared blankly at him.
The eerie sight startled him awake a fraction more.
The man spoke curtly, tone of voice as bland as always. “Do you have the branch on you?”
“Of course I do,” Elmore murmured back, “I make sure all of us bring our weapons out with us.”
“Good.” Donovan rose from his seat. “Get ready.”
He inched closer, frowned behind him, before raising a hand.
. . . and slapped Elmore across the face, who promptly spluttered. “Hey! What was that-”
“No time,” he interjected, shaking Koa and Ash into consciousness. “This is a trap.”
Ash sprang upwards, flickered his head blearily all around, before accidentally slamming his face against the table. All in all, it was a very good shot at giving himself a concussion. “W-what? Trap?”
Nodding, Donovan turned towards a group of Fatigue clansmen he hadn’t paid any mind to. “Notice how we all felt drained upon entering? You best believe that wasn't a coincidence.”
The man drew a sword, completely stygian black, as Koa too woke up in his own fit of panic.
“Draw your weapons, and activate your Marks. It’ll help fight off the soporific effects.”
“Cut it out with the big words,” Ash groaned, but obliged the man — as did them all. “One of these days, I just want an uninterrupted rest. Is that too much to ask for?”
Elmore twirled a set of cultivated ferns between his fingers, their ends deadly sharp. The squadron of Fatigue clansmen rushed forwards, every one of them cloaked in a fierce black. Why they bothered to conceal their identities, when this was their home territory, was beyond Elmore. In a warding toss, he threw out a series of throwing knives right before their feet. They halted immediately.
“Let us leave peacefully and we’ll gladly ignore your brash actions.” He tried to reason with them, a nagging tiredness making the branch seem heavy in his grip. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Based on their growling advance, Elmore had obviously irked the group. In surprisingly fast thinking, Ash equipped his knuckles, and Koa extended his blade into a stunning spear. The air whooshed as it sprouted outwards, and Donovan made his own advance forwards.
The air grew gloomy around him. No, Elmore soon realised, the entire room did. Black contours deepened every casted shadow, and Donovan’s own umbra caped him in a protective barrier that was hard to look at. It was darkness itself, the absence of familiar form and substance. The twilight construct continued to grow, serving as the foundation for a hovering mass bulging with muscle. The shapes were indistinct, not lending themselves to visibility. But with a little focus, Elmore took in the hulking entity with quickening breaths.
The shadow was in the vain of its owner — that much was clear — but if Donovan was thrice the size, had muscles that put Andreas to shame, and an eerie emptiness to him.
As quick as a bullet, it grabbed the nearest masked enemy, crushing them into a bloody bundle. Elmore wasn’t squeamish by any means, but the mass of gore unnerved even him. Outaged, the rest of his three-man group focused their gazes solely on Ash or Koa respectively.
Elmore felt the fatigue lighten off his body like an invisible curse finally broken. But his cousins dropped to the floor with a bang, instantly asleep. The Fatigue clansmen charged through with mutant strength, tables split to shrapnel beneath their flying limbs.
“They’re pulling on the energy of your kin!” Donovan roared from within his hulking vortex. “Wake them up!”
Elmore veered towards the unconscious bundle, right as an oncoming enemy vaulted towards the cousins’ helpless pile. An axe was lifted in both hands. The sight of that alone, and Elmore didn’t have to think; it was all instinctual.
His Boundless Bank flooded Infinity towards his Mark, and Elmore felt drunk on the frothing power. The uncompleted network meant that some of the resource was lost, of course, like a cracked vase gushing liquid, but he had stockpiled more than enough to burn through. The wooden debris of the tables uprooted into a sudden cage, enveloping both boys in spider-webbing strips. The axe was caught in the mass of wood, and screeching, Elmore outed the oak material of his enemy's handle. It shot into its owner’s chest, failing to penetrate flesh. Nevertheless, the man was hurtled across the restaurant, crumpling.
In the perfect position to be punched repeatedly by a giant shadow’s fist.
There, the two beings struggled, with the real Donovan clashing blades with an oncoming group of yet more clansmen. Elmore slid across the floor, and, taking advantage of the wooden material of the ceiling, sent extra walls of the same material streaking down to the floor. He had slotted himself off into an isolated cube. It contained the corner which featured his guarded cousins, a torch shimmering in its bracket, and nothing more.
Dashing over, he commanded the shielding to sink aside, and grasped the two of them. With some rough shaking, they awoke quickly. Koa rubbed his eyes, a disturbed confusion paving the way for fury. Ash was just as agitated.
“You two focus on keeping yourselves safe,” Elmore demanded of them, a banging against the walls of their hiding spot troubling him. It had been created hastily, and so wouldn’t hold for long.”
He put up three fingers, conjuring his most severe of expressions. “On the count of three, I’ll drop this barricade, and we'll turn every resource available in this restaurant against those bastards. Just try not to harm Donovan, kay’?”
They nodded.
“Three . . .”
Two extra sources of enchanting green light birthed from the duo, as they activated their Marks. The grunting outside became incessant, with all sorts of violent sounds trespassing the walls.
“Two . . .”
Screams, with what sounded like a storm crashing down out of nowhere upon the building. Elmore found himself sweating.
“One!”
In a unified leap, the trio scrambled through Elmore’s revoked fortification.
Only to find Donovan, his titan of a shadow at his back, crowning a pile of leaking bodies. He pointed the tip of a dagger at one last squirming man’s throat, shadow-duplicates of the blade appearing like ghostly apparitions at either side. It was like Elmore was seeing double — no, triple.
“Please,” the man rasped helplessly, dragging himself back as far as he dared. “I’ll tell the others not to mess with you, I’ll do anything you ask of me.”
Donovan said nought, and Elmore thought he was going mad as something occurred to him. Was he considering the man’s plea?
Not saying a word, Donovan threw his blade aside. The dagger clanged against the blood-soaked matting a yard away, and the clansman whimpered in gratitude as Donovan turned his back to him.
“Thank you! Thank yo-!”
The monstrosity of a shadow appeared behind the weeping man, faster than Elmore could have blinked. As a colourless fist punctured through their chest, Elmore couldn’t help but think that at least the man had died with a smile. Delirious or not.
Stunned, the three of them stared blankly forwards, cheeks blanched of any healthy red. The drip-drip of Ichor was the only sound apart from Donovan’s patient footsteps; the music of nightmares. Elmore couldn’t decide which of the two was more haunting.
As the Foot-Soldier peeped through a series of cabinets, Elmore heard Koa’s dry throat force out words, like the escaping winds of a desert. “What are you doing?”
Still scurrying through the cabinets, Donavon uplifted a bottle, before placing it onto the nearest unbroken table with a slam. Elmore came to realise it was the only surface to have survived the onslaught. In the distance, a bell rang, and the growing panic of the locals ushered up a symphony of frenzied, though faint, shouts.
Dovonavn placed down another glass of wine, several baskets of bread, and a bowl of seeds.
“I don’t know of much of this we can make last,” he rubbed his beardless chin innocuously, “but it would be wise to scavenge through for anything that will, before we leave.”
He stopped at the way they looked at him.
“What?” He sounded genuinely bewildered. “Don’t worry, we’re safe now. I doubt the locals will bother getting in our way. If they’re intelligent people, that is.”
Getting up, Elmore harrumphed, brushing down his emerald cloak. It was torn in places, with drops of gold muddying the colour. “Indeed,” he said with forced nonchalance, that sounded unnatural to his own ears. “Let's make it quick, I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
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The buzz of surging with Infinity and adrenaline had long since worn off, and the crash filled him with nothing but chagrin. They had been utterly useless in that fight. Donovan didn’t even appear shaken, but Elmore?
He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and did his best to clear his mind.
A few minutes later, raiding the destroyed restaurant and ignoring the stink of drying blood, Elmore asked the one question lingering on his mind. “Just what kind of Vault do you have, Donovan?”
“Two-Part Identity.” He replied instantly. Elmore didn’t have to ask for an explanation. “The entire network of Infinity leads to my brain, making either side as alert as a full mind when enough of the resource is supplied.”
Elmore’s eyes widened. “So that’s how you’re so coordinated with your shadow —one mind for each fighter?”
“Precisely.”
“Aren’t there any side effects to, you know, manipulating the mind like that?”
The man shrugged. “Some people say the more we use the ability . . .” he frowned, blinking rapidly, “the more numb we grow to emotion.”
His head shot towards Elmore. “Do you think I’m emotionless? Is that why you’re asking?”
The question took Elmore aback. He couldn’t tell if Donovan was actually asking, or was somehow offended. He at least sounded sincere. “I don’t know. You obviously have some emotion, but sometimes-”
“Sometimes?”
“You tend to act a little too casual. It's not an issue, simply . . . a bit unnerving.”
Momentarily distracted, Donovan seemed to mull these words endlessly over, mouthing them to himself. “Thank you for being truthful Elmore.” He smiled awkwardly. Elmore could tell it was artificial, but appreciated the sentiment. “That explains a lot.”
They finished packing up their bags right as a stampede of steps rumbled the ground at their feet.
Peeking out of a window, Ash shivered. “Well, looks like they finally mustered up the courage to come face us. And good gods, it looks like the whole outpost has been riled up!”
Donovan collected his sword from the bloody pile, swishing the weapon repeatedly through their air. Drops of gold flickered off all around. “Draw your blades,” he spoke forebodingly. “If we have to fight our way out, so be it.”
Hand extending towards a leather pouch hanging across him, Elmore gripped onto his deadly branch. And yet, even as a stone shattered through the windows ahead, Elmore felt no fear.
With Donovan here, nothing could stop them.
----------------------------------------
Remus scrutinised the table overflowing with Tyrants at Violet’s side.
With their varying colours, it was quite the spectacle to gaze upon. Mounds of purple, mountains of red, and the rare creek of white all combined together in a monetary landscape. It would be a hassle to carry of course, but after a Passing of gathering funds, it was oh-so satisfying to observe. The physical fruit of their efforts, laid out right in front of him.
Not even Violet could force down a gratified smile. “If this doesn’t last until we’ve both cleansed the earth of every last Unbounded, I’ll personally rob the Wealth Sect of every coin.”
Remus laughed. “I doubt we can spread ourselves that thin, but now we’re ready to get going.”
He struck his hands against the table as forcefully as he could without creating a shiny mess. “So, what exactly have you been planning? You’ve been examining those notes of yours endlessly. So tell me — what grand scheme have you devised to topple the Chaos Sect?”
Sighing, Violet failed to hide the amusement from her lips. Remus’ voice was far too loud for this tiny hut they had rented, but nevertheless, he couldn’t contain his excitement. Surely she had something monumental prepared after so much planning.
Obliging him, Violet opened up a small cabinet in the room’s corner, filled-to-choking with various pieces of parchment. Remus opened a door for her, and Violet carried the stack into one of the two cell-sized bedrooms. She slumped it onto the bed’s covers, shifted the pages around, before turning to Remus.
“Your part of the plan is essential,” she began mysteriously, holding aloft a detailed map of the sect’s manor. “I'll be the one rushing in, whilst you cause a distraction outside. Now before you complain-”
Remus let the rapier retort fade on the cusp of his mouth.
“. . . there’s several important reasons as to why I think this would be the most efficient way of doing things. First of all, the Chaos Clan’s bases are deadly to those not familiar with their shifting nature. The entire layout could contort at any second’s whim, and only other manipulators of Chaos can fight it. If we’re sent into the jaws of a deathtrap, I’m the only one with the means to keep it at bay.”
Despite the certitude of her words, Violet didn’t look nor sound very sure of herself.
“And you're sure you’ll be fine?” Remus’ glower only deepened. “Now that I think of it, charging into an entire Unbounded-filled manor by yourself . . . not to be blunt, but do you have a death wish?”
“Please listen before you pick holes into the plan. I’ve been thinking things through for Durations on end; trust me, I have everything covered.”
Remus continued to stand, twiddling his fingers anxiously. “. . . Okay. I’ll listen.” He sat on an edge of the bed not camouflaged under a mountain of notes. “But let me voice my concern when you're finished. I know it's impossible for this all to be one hundred percent safe, but I’d like to get as close as possible.”
Violet nodded. “As I was saying, while I charge inwards, you’ll keep the bulk of the clansmen preoccupied by raining down hell. Set as much of the manor ablaze as possible. Don’t worry about my safety, I can warp in and out of the fray as necessary. You have your fair share of conflict, but whenever they gang up on you too excessively . . .”
She showcased a sketch of four identical pods. “These are tiny Projections I’ll make in advance. Whenever you’re in danger, destroy one— a squash of the fingers will be enough — and I’ll be notified. Using the forth pod to keep track of your location, I’ll teleport you out of there. Just remember, don’t destroy the fourth unless in the most dire of circumstances. I intend to rejoin with you after some real damage is dealt, but if I have to tug you over prematurely, well, so be it. Do you want me to re-explain anything?”
Remus shook his head. As he put the plan to memory, his eyes were drawn to the intricate notes that contained information far too exact for Violet to have amassed herself. Something else was obviously afoot. The question was what.
“Where did you find out all of this?” He pulled up one page that was simply a list, eyes widening as he inspected the names. “Everyone located there is listed here? Including . . .” his throat constricted, and Remus fought the urge to crumple the sheet right there. “Oh, now I really have motivation to start an inferno.”
A purple tear appeared next to Remus, and Violet’s transported hand snatched the page away from him. Arm surfacing from her own tear in space, Violet held the sheet defensively. “Careful. The last thing I want is you getting so enraged, you stop fighting tactically. We can’t let this turn into an all-out brawl. That’s the worst case scenario we can’t win. We get in and out, stir a little havoc, and from there . . .”
Violet frowned. So did Remus. Neither of them had bothered thinking so far into their futures, with the task at hand so looming. What were they going to do once the dust settled? Leave the Ravaged Lands obviously, but then what?
“I think,” Remus looked up at Violet gingerly, as if apprehensive of her response, “I think we should make our way to the front lines. Once I get to Foot-Soldier, I can earn some profit. You don’t have to come of course, but-” he flickered his arms to the side. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. But still, I can’t let you evade the question: how do you have all this?”
Beginning to pack up the paperwork, Violet began to tell the truth. “Have you heard of the Clan of Two Doors?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “The other name for the Trickery Clan? Yeah, what ab-”
Shooting upwards, the sheer speed of Remus’ jolt sent papers flying. “You consulted them?” Yelling of course, was rude, and the sound echoed subtlety in the claustrophobic hut. But nevertheless, this was nothing short of madness.
“It was our best option,” Violet’s head drooped slightly, “I know it's not ideal. I’m sorry for not consulting you first, but I wasn’t staying by their base for too long. I didn’t get the chance. I only had a small window of opportunity to collect these, and so I took it.”
Remus settled down. “That was an overreaction. I’m sorry. But nevertheless, buying information from a clan literally titled after their trickery . . . I wouldn’t pin this down as trustworthy.”
“I know, I know,” Violet patted down the stacked papers, eying the tower with concern, “but it all appears correct. Regardless, the plan will still work if this all turns out to be false, gods’ forbid. For the most part.”
Nearly all questions answered, a temporary silence fell over the two. A greater noise, except one only alive in Remus’ head, spurred into existence. Raucous, and demanding every ounce of his attention. So much hung upon its utterance.
“How long until we set this into motion?”
Judging her nonchalant reaction, Violet had been expecting this. “As soon as we’re ready to charge into that battlefield.” The woman glanced through the panes of their one window, eyes scrutinising every detail of the ashy visage.
A few hours of walking, or one hour of frenzied sprinting, and they would reach it: Hell’s Floor. That didn’t sound real.
“Unless you have to go to West Ember?” Violet interrupted his brief reverie. “I know you had trouble before, but has anything come up?”
The image of Maris flickered across his eyes, refusing to perish until he blinked rapidly. “I’m . . . working on it. Just give me a day or two, apologies. I have to consider some things.”
Violet looked at him strangely, but nodded. “A few days is fine. It’ll take us a while to manoeuvre through Hell’s Floor safely anyway.”
“Right,” Remus walked into the hall, closing the door behind him, “sorry for the delay.”
Ignoring the growing tightness in his chest, Remus entered the bathroom, gripping the basin with both hands to steady himself. Guilt warped its way around and through the chambers of his heart, ensnaring him like some sort of emotional parasite.
That same choice spun in his head, twisting his stomach. Is it right to destroy one sect to save another?
Beyond a doubt, ‘destruction’ was blowing the matter way out of proportion. But still, Remus hated the prospect. But it was the only choice he had. Slumping against a wall, he gazed at his Mark. Even now, like always it was activated. This power was only possible through the Ambition Sect — to repay them, the least he could do was prevent their downfall.
But the cost of doing so. It taunted his moral compass. For a few seconds he paced the room, hoping the motion would marshal his wild thoughts into order. It didn’t. Remus dragged his back down the base of the sink, too preoccupied to acknowledge the discomfort of the surface, and groaned.
“Having trouble, are we?”
Remus had never vaulted upwards so fast. His joints recoiled at the sudden motion, but Remus spun around regardless. In the basin, an inky blackness formed an eyeless, toothy face. Nova’s voice struck his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.
“What do you want?” He spat, scanning the walls around him as he imagined any one of them caving in. The image of being splattered like an ant in a fist did nothing to slow his heart rate. Did Nova know where he was? The Unbounded must have, to send a Projection. Maybe he had been tracking them with Perpetual Sight for a while now, waiting for the perfect moment to skin his mangled body.
Laughter. Vile, humourless laughter.
“What am I doing? I’m the one who should be asking you that, dear Remus!” The amusement leaked from his every word. “Why, how much gall do you have to possess to plot against me?”
Remus spat out a rapid string of curses. Then another, simply for the sake of it. Where was Violet? Surely she would sense the presence of a God-Graced. But then again, this was simply a Projection. Who was to say if Nova had bothered to imbue any might into at all?
An idea sparking within him, Remus set his fist ablaze, and whooshed his arm towards the oily creature. It caught it between its teeth.
Nova’s voice was distorted around his hand. The unintelligible uproar sounded distinctly like mirthful cackling. Molars penetrated his flesh, and Remus spasmed as the Projection refused to let his clutch go. In fact, it didn’t appear affected by the fire at all.
As blood enveloped the trapped appendage, Remus struggled to keep the moisture in his eyes at bay. Screaming, he stopped thinking, instead sending untempered Ambition quaking through his free hand. The basin cracked in a wave of debris and dust, with water gushing upwards. The momentum sent Remus flying, and — still attached to the slimy creature just short of a Tarlord — his mind scrambled, trying to estimate how powerful this Unbounded was. Splintered Rank? If he knew one thing for certain, it was that their stout size was as deceptive as anything.
“Come now Remus, you mustn't be so afraid. I merely want to show you something. Something very interesting indeed.”
As the world turned grey, Remus screamed until his lungs felt like tearing. The Projection spread its oozing mass across his body, chomping sporadically at Remus whenever it pleased. As his thoughts were forcefully tugged away, Remus’ pleas for help were muffled.
And all he saw was ungodly destruction