By the time the carriage finally reached the outer reaches of the front lines, Remus was still scribbling down on a piece of parchment. He was almost out of ink, and sketching here, with constant turbulence from their travels, had led to him accidentally swiping a few lines here and there, but it was done.
With a satisfactory exhale, like a king seeing his victorious army return from battle, Remus closed the book Violet had lended him. It had served as a reference well enough, despite how thin the yellowed paper felt between his fingertips.
“I’m fortunate you’re an ever-studious pupil.” He remarked, handing Violet back her anatomy handbook. “Or else I’d have to wait to complete this masterpiece.”
Violet, an amused quirk to her lips, shoved the book back into her travel sack. Remus was sure about two dozen other books supplied from Veida were resting amongst it. Since their relationship had slowly repaired, Veida had begun taking her scholarly role a little more seriously. Tasking the poor girl with enough reading material that Violet’s bag now made for a serviceable weapon when swung.
“Are you sure you copied it down properly?” Violet asked for the twentieth time, organising her things. “You know what? Here.”
She tore the page Remus had been labouring over violently out, handing it to him. It was the illustration of a man stretching his limbs, in the same vein you would see in all books of this kind. Instead of picturing how the organs comprised the body, this depiction focused on what kept it all together: Ichor.
Or, more specifically, how it travelled around the body. Remus settled his eyes on the title once again: the circulatory system.
What he based his Mould on, conceptually and now put to paper, was the placement of the veins, arteries, and capillaries. In their exact arrangements, he drew tubes to channel Infinity directly to where Flaming Gold would pass through. Counteracting the adverse effects of the technique, and directly enhancing it.
Most people would say that relying so heavily on one ability would cripple yourself when it came to future advancement. In Remus’ eyes, the technique served as a jack-of-all-trades. In loose terms, what he was attempting to do was enhancing an enhancing technique. It would allow him to fight explosively for however long he was able to keep pumping out Infinity.
Which, contrary to the pain endurance he would otherwise have to rely on, was something Remus could draw out for prolonged periods of time.
As the two laid their feet on a sandy stretch of land, their carriage becoming an increasingly lower hum in the distance, Remus was still staring at his illustration.
“Creating your own Mould is risky.” Violet said at his side, like he wasn’t already aware of the dangers. “Especially when people have failed exactly what you're attempting now.”
“I’ve added tweaks.” Remus argued. “My own artistic flare.”
“Such as?”
“Such as . . .” he pointed at tiny strokes of ink that jutted out of the larger. “These. Connections to the rest of my body. They’re small, so won’t have much effect on their own, but all together-”
“Enhancement upon enhancements upon enhancements. I’m not saying this doesn’t have a greater chance of working, but do you know how complicated something this convoluted will be to pull off? You’ll have to pay full attention whenever expanding towards your finished Vault. Else, you could screw up the finer details.”
“I know.” Remus squinted through the sandy air between them and what appeared to be a stretch of barricades. “True art takes time.”
Violet stifled a laugh. “And your name for this ingenious Mould?”
Remus stood and thought for all of three seconds “Hmm. How about Full Body Blood Infusion.”
He half expected Violet to burst into laughter. Instead, she put a hand to her chin. “Not half bad. I don’t expect it to become the new popular craze with how specialised to you it is, but maybe you could pass it onto the Ambition Sect. If it works, that is.”
“I should be able to tell within the first few Durations of Bank development whether it works or not.” He glowered. “Probably. Hopefully.”
For a while, they walked in silence. The sand below their feet was still moist from the night before, the greying skies above playing with the idea of drenching them all over again. The distant fortifications weren’t so distant, and they were close enough to make out men and women standing guard. A line of people, all displeased with the weather as of late, also stood outside. Their expressions were grumpy, their disgruntled faces like that of a couple who have slowly come to hate each other over the years. Remus immediately paused, a guard placing a Progress Calibrator on a woman at the front of the line.
Violet blanched. “If we let them put that on me, this crowd will be drawing pitchforks faster than you can scream imposter.”
As much as he could sympathise with Violet, Remus wasn’t in an ideal situation either.
“They’ll scan our Rank with that.” He tried not to let his rising temper show. After all, he was well aware they were too low on the Divine Ranks before coming here.
He just hadn’t thought anybody would care. The more the merrier, right? Especially when they were talking about joining the war effort, here.
“You should be able to sneak in, yes?” He asked. “Teleporting, I mean.”
“I could.” Violet agreed, that pale complexion not leaving her. “Probably even blend in with the other Unbounded, on the enemy lines.”
Despite that good news, Remus still wasn’t at ease. If we’ve reached a dead end here . . . The thought haunted him. They had to succeed in getting in, they just had to. No ifs or buts about it.
“Let’s see what they say.” He concluded. “And if the worst comes to worst, I’ll find some other means of entering.”
Remus wasn’t entirely confident in that himself, but he said it anyway. At the very least, he could be held accountable.
Violet remained to watch, staying as far away from the Calibrators as possible. Remus entered the back of the line, more self-conscious than he had ever been. Did he give off the aura of an Emblazed? Nobody seemed to take much notice, but if the guards did . .
He shut off whatever sense may be emanating off him. The people around Remus all looked ordinary, as far as clansmen went, with little to no bodily alterations. Opening up his senses, several men around had also shunned themselves off, but judging on their excited, carefree attitudes, that was more likely a personal choice than a deliberate act of disguise. A habit done by muscle memory. Their grins indicated nothing other than a buzzing excitement to help out their respective clans.
The rest, without a doubt, were Foot-Soldiers.
Remus half-expected to become a panicked, sweaty mess at any passing second. His fear, for some sadistic reason, accelerated things far faster than he was comfortable with. He found himself sitting on stool next to an inquisitive, balding man, with a hairline so far receded, it may as well have been non-existent.
It reminded him hauntingly of Edmar, which wasn’t the picture he really wanted in his head at a time like this. Or ever, for that matter.
“You know what to do, just put it on,” they said, even as he placed the Calibrator on Remus’ arm himself. “Shouldn’t be long, just a few seconds, and-” The frown Remus had been dreading arrived. “Ah. Sorry kid. There’s nothing wrong with being eager, but heading to the front lines now will get you nothing but killed.”
After that quasi-polite refutal, Remus felt two powerful arms interlock with his. Before he could even begin to struggle, they tossed him out.
He came crashing down not too far from Violet’s feet, eating sand, and overall not feeling his best. He spat the grains out, stood up, and focused on his breathing.
Otherwise, he was risking doing something very stupid. Likely, for example, turning everything within a ten mile radius into a hell put through a sapphire filter. He sat down on the ground below, not caring that it was wet, and did his best not to look like a sulking child.
“So, didn’t go to plan, did it?” Violet said gently to him, tone apologetic.
“No.” Remus exhaled, the image of an hourglass reaching its final trickles another attempt from his mind to torture him. “This one's on me. If only I had thought things through a little better.”
He heard her crouch by his side, but Remus remained staring off straight ahead. “I can’t be free of the blame either. I think we both underestimated how seriously the army took things like this. What do you wanna do?”
“We’re not leaving,” Remus flared his Mark a tiny amount, feeling the reassuring desire quell his temper. “That’s for sure.”
He got up, and began to walk. When Violet asked where to, he didn’t have an answer for her. Wherever his feet led him, it would be better than sitting idly while the window of opportunity to see his grandfather closed.
It almost felt as if all his progress would be made meaningless if Andreas passed before he got one last farewell. They had time, of course — entire Passings. But how many? It was too uncertain, too undefined.
“I once read somewhere that hundreds of Emblazed sneak into the front lines every Rebirth. If that’s the case, I must truly be the biggest moron in the world.”
“And why is that?”
“Think,” he continued, not stopping for a second. “If the guards are that thorough, there must be some other means, some other way of entering without anybody raising an eyebrow.”
She shrugged. “Maybe this entry point is just more strict than the standard. There are probably about one hundred others across the front lines. Maybe they take a softer stance.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.”
There was nothing more to be said, so Remus kept silent. The grains at his feet reminded him of Saya, the Sand Clan Warlord. Other dark thoughts brewed alongside her and Edmar’s face, and shivers sent his body awry. Remus couldn’t help but see the worst of the universe at every turn. When would another batch of Shadow Clansmen with a vengeance kick come after him? Or the Frost Clan for that matter?
He had scarcely seen any of their kind come after him. Which, reflecting on everything, was rather peculiar. Bizarre, even. With the promise Tushar had made, with his very position up for grabs, you would expect Remus to not be able to show his face in public without a brigade of Frost clansmen after him. Yet there had been nothing of the sort. Plenty of other people had attempted things along the same lines, usually with the goal of rendering him five feet under in mind, but none of Tushar’s lackeys.
Remus could spend all day, as it seemed in that moment, feeling sorry for himself. Going over everybody who wouldn’t mind seeing him dead and dwelling over his losses.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Instead, he spent some period of time — he stopped paying attention to how long — focusing on the next step ahead of him. Not in some grand, theoretical sense, no. Remus was quite literally thinking only of the movement of his feet.
Action was all he could do. However pitiful it felt in the moment. In time, snapping him out of his quiet brooding, Violet’s intrigued voice shouted out in excitement.
“Over there!” She pointed at a ramshackle number of buildings. They were too far away to decipher details, but they weren’t professional enough to be of the army’s making.
“An outpost? Doesn’t look like a military barrack.”
“I don’t know,” Violet took the lead, marching off ahead, “but we won’t find out dawdling around here.”
Remus followed behind, making out more of the strange place with every stride closer. The nearer he grew, the clearer the rundown state of the place became. The fence around was low, and mismatched. Like it had been replaced so many times, only fragments of the original material remained. The buildings slanted to either side, in such a way that Remus was sure he could probably construct better himself if given enough time. Roguish men leaned against the entrance, smoking, but the air about them wasn’t entirely unwelcoming. More of one of indifference.
A man with short stubble approached them. He sported a strange leather jacket a few sizes too big for him, so that it swayed around his calves. One of his eyebrows was slit, and Remus would have described him as the caricature of a shady individual, if it wasn’t for their charismatic smile. It seemed at odds with the rest of him.
It took Remus an embarrassingly long time to realise that beam was targeted directly at them.
The man placed his arm over Remus' shoulder with startling speed. “Ah, my friend. You look like you’re trying to get in there, ey?”
He winked, pointing over to the front lines.
Okay, so definitely shifty. Ignoring his gut feeling for the time being, he nodded. “Yeah. Me and my friend here. Do you have a way in?”
“Of course!” His teeth were perfectly white, and verging on creepy. Remus was half-expecting the incisors to start glinting, as if they really were diamonds. “This way, let me show you around.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Violet pulled Remus away from the man’s clutches. “Let me just have a word for a second, okay?”
The man simply stood there. His smile persisted, but some of the joy had clearly diminished.
“Preferably . . . in private?”
They made no sign of compliance, but moved away with slow strides.
Violet turned them around, their backs to the man. “Are you sure about this? Are you not getting a bad aura from this guy?”
“This does scream trap . . .”
“Then why risk it?”
“What other choice is there?” Their whispers were slowly growing louder. The stranger probably would have had a harder time eavesdropping if they screamed until their lungs tore.
“Fine. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself led into an ally with two dozen blades pointed at your throat.”
When Remus swivelled back round, he found the man to still be grinning. He was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of medical issue, like his facial muscles were paralysed.
Remus waved a hand. “Lead the way.”
“With pleasure.”
The two followed at his tail, scanning the strange settlement with furrowed eyebrows and deep frowns. Inside was somehow more derelict than Remus had tempered his expectations for. Rodents ran under piles of debris; bins of trash overflowed, ashy from signs of a fire; and people held themselves tightly. Arms crossed and pressing their backs against any available surface, like they were expecting to be betrayed sooner than later.
Remus could relate. His guide was a little too persistent, a little too forceful, in everything he did. He walked with a spring in his step, his fierce smirk was uncannily wide and toothy, and he spoke as if it were his birthday all day, everyday. For all Remus knew, it may have been. Alas, there was something beneath the obvious facade. Like he had just received news of his entire village burning to a crisp, but was holding himself together for the sake of a greater cause.
Unsettling. That was the only word for it.
The scent of smoke wafted everywhere, thinly visibly atop the roofs of buildings. Stray dogs and cats ran about the place, most of them probably strays, for he saw no collars. He could go on about five hundred other miniscule features, but the main idea was that the place was dirty. Grim, filthy, but despite it all, serviceable.
Remus heard fighting up ahead, and his heart almost hammered out of his chest.
And this is the part where I regret everything, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and prepared for a scuffle.
Only to find everyone around him relatively calm. Well, the variety of calm that was actually just a suppression of tension, but something told him the mood in this dumping ground was always like that.
“What’s going on?” He nearly stumbled on his words.
Their guide took a couple of seconds to notice Remus had stopped. “Oh, you mean the fighting? That’s the technicality, my friend.”
“And you only felt like dropping this on us now?”
He waved his arms wildly, his smile disappearing so suddenly, that for the first time, Remus had to blink. His expression almost forced him to feel pity. They truly did look apologetic, like the man harboured some great sense of shame.
“Forgive me. I meant no harm, you must believe me.”
“Woo, it's okay buddy.” Remus said gently. “Just explain to us what this technicality is?”
His eyes shifted from left to right, with a nervous tendency. “The front lines have become more dangerous as of late. The Unbounded are . . . what’s the phrase . . . going haywire.”
With everything Remus and Violet knew, that didn’t come as a surprise.
“So infiltrating the army has also become harder. Now, the team will only take in people who they know can look after themselves.”
“And you have to prove yourself in a series of bouts to get in?”
They nodded fervently, their head at risk of popping off. “Precisely!”
“Some fights.” Remus slowly considered, the three of them having reached a standstill. “Could make for some quality training.”
“I think that would be bait enough to keep you preoccupied anywhere.” Violet sighed. “Though I suppose there are worse ways to spend our time.”
After a minute, they continued following at Makalo’s heels, who had revealed his name in that childish, happy-go-lucky fashion that encapsulated his every action.
They reached one central structure — this one far larger, and more extravagant than the others. It was circular in design, made primarily of wood, of which type Remus couldn't tell, and reinforced in many places by workings of metal.
This, if nothing else could fit the title, was the central hub of the outpost. Remus still didn’t have a clue what to call this place. It was some kind of underground organisation, he suspected, specialising in sneaking Emblazed into humanity’s army. But the exact mechanics of the place, like who ruled, were yet to be answered.
Their guide, although polite enough in a quaint kind of way, didn’t seem like the best source of answers. Remus made a mental note to ask around for specifics once their escort was done with them. He was simply moving too swiftly for there to be any pauses at all.
“Quickly,” Makalo pointed at the looming entrance with an eager smile. “As a new arrival, you have to prove yourself in an initial match.”
Remus went along with this in the quickest decision of his life. Violet, meanwhile, shook her head. “I’m not interested in joining the front lines via this group. Do I have to participate?”
He frowned, looking Violet up and down like she was rather stupid. At last, he shrugged. “I suppose not.” He turned his head back to Remus, curve of the lips persistent as ever. “Ahh, unfortunately I must depart now, my friend. I’ll see you soon, when you emerge victorious!”
He sped off, looking back, and waving fervently. Remus couldn't help but match the smile, as childish as it was.
The two walked down in relative silence, a passage leading deeper into the arena.
After a time, Remus couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “What’s the problem? You’ve been looking glum ever since we got here.”
Remus himself was just relieved they weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere. Now they finally had an opportunity to do something. To get closer to his sect, train with all the resources of the front lines, and access all the abundant Infinity he needed to complete his Mould, and for Violet to acquire mastery over her own Infinity.
Clearly, she wasn't as keen on the idea. “This reeks of a trap. I know I won’t be able to sway you, and we’re in too deep to back out now, but keep vigilant.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
When they reached a great oak door, Remus was asked for his name. The man scribbled down on a notepad, and for a time, he was left waiting in another chamber. It was sparse, and Remus suspected the stone area was originally an entirely different structure. Unrelated to whatever the hell he had gotten himself involved in.
The only notable features of the dinky place was the dust on the floor, the slab-like seating that stretched around, and the door from which he had entered. Another, up ahead, granted him no sight of what was awaiting him outside.
The noises alone, however, told him exactly what to expect. Grunts, the clashing of blades like a blacksmith at work, filled Remus with a queasy mix of excitement and dread. Only when examining the other occupants of the room, did he learn the feeling to be ubiquitous.
Other men and women shifted on their grey seats. Untrusting glances were shot at him more times than he was bothered to count, and yet Remus couldn’t blame them. Everyone here was a possible opponent. He could very well find himself up against any one of them. Maybe not today, but tomorrow, or any number of days after. Trying to discern any information off of them, through his own inquisitive looks, wasn’t the successful endeavour he would have hoped.
They all kept themselves secretive. Keeping their cards close at hand.
“Look at them, Remus.” Violet urged him. “Really look. All of these people are desperate.”
Remus understood what she meant. It wasn’t just secrecy. A lot of these people — a majority, matter of fact — looked as though they were used to keeping themselves to themselves. A meek independence only acquired from having to sleep with one eye open.
These people weren’t here because they were impatient about joining the front lines. No, they had to be here. Either to earn some money for their poor families, their crumbling sects, or to get away from any hardships their normal lives posed.
With that knowledge, Remus suddenly felt a lot less confident.
Desperate people were dangerous. When your motivations surpassed simple ambition, verging on to very survival, the means to which you would go to claim victory knew no bounds. Remus, as well as anyone, knew this first hand. Desperation was a tool. Desperation was the thing that peered upon reality’s fickle limits and scoffed.
Desperation was power.
But Remus was desperate too. And if he would have to abuse that quirk of his existence to his own ends, so be it.
People came and went; time passed like ash filtering through his fingers. Remus flinched when, finally, after too long, a deep voice called, “Remus.”
He got up, shook himself up and down, and began towards the entrance.
Violet placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck. I’ll see if there’s any stands I can watch you from.”
“I appreciate that.” He smiled. “We’ll be at the front lines toppling giants before either of us know it. I promise.”
There was no more delay. Remus pushed open the great doors, greeted by a generic, and fairly standard amphitheatre. Sand stretched out below, hundreds of footsteps imprinted down.
Rows of decorative weapons encircled the sides, right below the rising seats. Remus likely could have asked for a blade, if he so wished, but that wasn’t his style.
Oh, and there was rain. Because of course there was.
Remus took a deep breath in, hoped for the best, and was struck by the universe with the worst.
Opposite him, entering from an equidistant entrance, Makalo came to a stand. Arms crossed, and a smug smile of royal proportions on his lips.
“My, my,” they sneered, “like stealing candy from a baby.”
“That would be highly inadvisable.”
Despite Remus’ ability to make quips, he felt sick to his stomach. Violet had tried to warn him so many times, and at each interval he’d carried on regardless. He’d been quite aware of the dangers, and, thinking back on things, Remus wouldn’t have changed anything regardless. He had come to a point that amongst a bunch of Emblazed, he had good faith in his abilities.
“Really, they’re always so easy to trick.” He looked Remus up and down, ignoring the shouting of an announcer. “You’re my ticket to getting to the front lines; to finally getting enough points.”
“There’s a point system?”
That probably wasn’t the time to ask. Interested or not.
“You won’t have to worry about that, my friend.” He adopted that false inflection. “And you didn’t even raise an eyebrow when I touched you, either.”
They lifted an upturned hand, index finger extended. Remus made to move, when blue fire erupted outwards from Makalo, like a dragon’s fury.
Through his shock, over the blood rushing through him and the clamour of the crowd, Remus could still hear the man’s booming laughter. Like venom pooled down his ear.
At that moment, snaking streaks of azure rushing after him, Remus knew one thing for sure: he had been wrong to think the man an idiot.