Remus was minding his own business, immersed in the depths of the Silver Cavities, when he felt the blade against his temple.
Violet often left, her own interests in the strange behaviour of the Right-bearers inspiring constant vigilance in her. More often than not, she would come and go, returning occasionally to inform a training Remus of what was occurring outside. He, goal-oriented as always, scarcely left the coves more than what was needed.
In the days that had passed, the upper reaches of the Silver Cavities were slowly becoming a non-issue for Remus. He practised physical training down there, and found despite the extra load, he could manage it. Remus ate there, drank there, slept and spent most of his waking hours in the dark gloom of the space.
Bank-crafting was a more difficult process than he’d anticipated. At first, he’d almost been too terrified to expand the ivory tubes. What if he dealt irreversible damage to himself? Sabotaging his future advancement, right at the core, could undo all the tireless work he’d put in. Washing away the innumerable hours, as easily as cleaning up blood with a towel. Of course, one could always destroy and rebuild when it came to their Mould, but Remus would rather avoid the hassle altogether.
So, like an architect constructing his magnum opus, he took things slow. On the first day down there, he simply allowed himself to become accustomed to the Infinity that thrived in the Cavities. Since then, and only once Remus was sure he had perfect control of every minute detail of his expansion, did he settle down to seriously work on the internal network.
In the beginning, the task demanded all of his focus. Multitasking between consulting his own terrible drawings, and the construction itself, was like juggling between many opponents in one battle.
It gave him brain fog, and didn't allow for a slip of thought. But like all abilities, and through the same monotonous repetition that a showman may master juggling, it was ingrained into his muscle memory.
And when that happens, the bored mind finds ways to entertain itself. No matter how hard he tried, or with how much vigour he shut his eyes and shook his head, Remus found it nearly impossible to shun them out. It may have been because of his environment, but images of Andreas’s Rot danced through his mind. The Warlord’s bandaged arm. The conclusion of every fight which had rendered him a bloody pulp. These visions and more took their hold on Remus.
And he let them.
The fury, the chagrin, the drive to see his family again before it was too late — they all acted as the perfect fuel.
Not once did idle boredom urge him to do something else. Never would he let anything but the absolutely necessary get between him and his training. Or, how he perceived it, of his future.
Only a few days stood between Remus and his next bout. He bit his lip in a surge of consternation. He forced himself to imagine the strongest opponent possible in the circumstances. An Emblazed who only needed one speck of Infinity to call his Vault complete, with bulging muscles, rapid reflexes, and holding back absolutely nothing.
That was what he prepared himself for. The image of that terrible nightmare compelled him relentlessly.
So deep into his own thoughts was he, that Remus almost didn’t feel the needle-like prick at the side of his head. His eyes snapped into focus, the light leaking into the Silver Cavities from the outside feeling like a stun grenade. Once he adjusted, he sensed the Unbounded not inches away from him.
The Infinity they consisted of was nearly disguised by the storm of the resource that had engulfed him to no end. The power they radiated was thus hard to gauge, and something told him he didn’t want to know anyway.
“Ohhhhhh . . .” A slithery voice said, sounding like a whisper, yet paradoxically, they spoke at a normal volume. “Fun to watch. Man is fun to see do.”
As fragmented as the words were, the thought of an Unbounded being able to speak as fluently as it did meant one thing: power. Relatively speaking. Some strength to their name Remus couldn’t afford to underestimate.
His survival instincts told him to rush off in a blaze of sapphire. Incinerating the fiend in the process, and achieving a speedy getaway.
Suppressing the inclination to do so was like trying to force life back into the undead. Yet Remus did so. Any sudden moves, without proper knowledge of how powerful this Unbounded actually was, could result in his immediate, and unsightly demise.
“See, see, see! Man, see!”
It wasn’t too surprising that Unbounded were present here. This was the birthplace of the Supreme Fiend after all, and the tug of Infinity down there was enough to attract, and form, Unbounded of all power levels. Yet Remus got the unnerving feeling that this Unbounded, who he was beginning to suspect was a Peak Foot-Soldier, or weak Splintered equivalent, had been watching him this entire time.
Their repetitive, terse speech, gave him two vital pieces of information. One, the way they talked, and the fact he could finally pinpoint the concentration of their Infinity, made him sure his speculation on their Rank was correct. It wasn’t the best match-up, but Remus could work with a Splintered equivalent. He had fared okay in such encounters before, and with the newest trick up his sleeve, escape seemed all the more likely.
His second revelation was that if this Unbounded was watching him, what would stop other Unbounded from doing the same? Likely, they already were. Nefarious eyes in the dark.
It made the place all the more dangerous. But Remus needed victory more than he needed to look out for his own safety.
Besides, testing out his new toys was mightily appealing.
His Mark activated like the roar of an engine, and he felt the great talon slice through the air. Just narrowly missing him.
He held himself aloft with a surge of flame, and, swishing around, took his first look at the adversary.
His initial impression was that they looked like a homeless woman. Mixed with maybe something vaguely canine. Unkempt tousles of hair sagged against their hunched-back form, knife-like nails streaking into the air. They leaped forwards before he could inspect them any further.
Remus flew aside, grasped something off the ground, and prepared to make good use of his full Bank.
Down here, it was hard not to keep himself full to bursting with Infinity. He’d made decent progress on his Vault, with it stretching like spiderwebs behind his abdomen. With a flare of Flaming Gold, he shot around the room.
The sound of metal on metal rang out like sonorous clanging. The chains flew in his hands, and he poured as much Ambition and raw Infinity as he could channelling through them. They struck against the creature’s talons, with their sharp ends always a tad too close to his neck for Remus’ liking.
Inside, his third prototype, and hopefully the last of the Supreme Steel Chains they’d have to make, were hollow. By being designed so, all divine resources he flooded to fill up the space flourished.
With a click of his will, the chains in Remus hands set alight.
They highlighted the environment everywhere. Contours of rocks he’d never seen, sparkling ores that weren’t worth any miner’s risk. And overlaying it all, a sleeting dust of purest Infinity, naturally occurring.
Time seemed to slow. Remus admired the contrast of flickering silver on ambient sapphire, and couldn’t help but find the disparity beautiful.
Until the Unbounded screeched like a siren, plugging two oversized nails into the gaps inside his weapon.
Their way of dealing with the pain was by screaming. Remus gritted his teeth in their wake, feeling himself pulled with shocking strength towards them.
Ambition went into his limbs, and he tugged back in the most dangerous game of tug-of-war the world had ever seen. Only it was a match that was short lived.
The fiend was flickered into a wall, crumpling in a tremulous motion. Like a dog left to survive out in the cold.
Remus could run. He could claim his moment of victory, use one last blast of force to sweep the chains out of their clutches, and run into the relative safety of outside. He had trained vigorously after all. Why shouldn't he evade the apparent danger?
That didn’t sit right with him. This was his and Violet’s space to master themselves in, theirs, and if that thought was childish, so be it. Running away wouldn’t solve anything. This vile thing would still be here, slathering over the thought of shoving mouthfuls of his intestines down their gullet. And if he wanted to give a cautionary lesson to any other Unbounded laying low nearby, this was the only opportunity he’d get.
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He wrenched his chains toward himself, but not to escape the Unbounded’s grasp. He forced their now-flaming shape into arm’s reach, concentrating abundant Ambition into a tiny speck between his knuckles. It was as small and compact as his current skill would allow, and twisting his entire body in an arc, jabbed into their face. Point blank.
They were sent flying, gasping in a squirming series of assertive rasps. He sped forwards, by them in the blink of an eye. He reacted too slowly to avoid a desperate scrape of their claws from opening up his knees. Yet fast enough to shower them with fresh, obsidian fists.
Emerald blood, reminding him of sewer water in more senses than just sight, splattered outwards.
If they had been somewhat upset with Remus before, they were furious now. Using every last morsel of a Foot-Soldier's strength to send golden streaks pouring off him.
Pour his injuries did, sweat and Ichor making his eyes sting, but he blinked the liquids out.
A desperate blast of plasma, his most powerful technique, and a sort of upgrade on the Eruptive Will ability, proved catastrophic this close up.
A gap in the Unbounded’s flesh let Remus see through to the other side. They were wrestling now, with Remus focusing all of his resources on defence. His body was swaying back and forth too much, like a boat about to plunge into unseen depths. It made it impossible to retain the rigidity of Thick Skin, and yet he drowned the tissue and outer flesh with protective Ambition regardless.
He tasted blood in his mouth, but he focused on the task at hand as the Unbounded shrieked obscenities into his ear. Keep busy, keep busy, keep . . .
It was the holy matra that kept him moving.
In the depraved chaos of it all, some sadistic part of his mind laughed. This was the kind of bloody scramble he had been talking about at the anticlimax of Makalo’s duel. Where his head panged, his body roared, and his Mark and Bank were equal degrees of abused.
For a second, real and abominable fear brushed him. His resources weren’t finite. His human vigour could only expend so much. Yet that seemed to make the moment all the more exhilarating.
His hands blurring in one finishing motion, Remus hopped back. He took the moment to compose himself, and greet a returning Violet at the entrance.
Her eyes turned from him, his blood-tattered clothes, to the Unbounded dangling from the cave ceiling. Enwrapped inside his hanging chains, their scraping claws were always a inch or two away from grazing Remus.
As unintelligible screeches left the fiend's torn lips, Violet didn’t look even remotely surprised. “Can’t leave you anywhere, can I?”
He sagged against the cavern wall. “No. No you can’t.”
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Anywhere Koa went, warfare followed.
At least, presently, while he oversaw two skirmishing forces smashing themselves at each other, that statement rang true.
The mountain ranges that enveloped Territory Eight like broad arms were forced to endure great blows from both sides. Containing the brunt of the conflict so that the neighbouring territories were free from the aftermath.
Koa had heard tales of the civil wars that forever absorbed the two of them. Fate can be funnily repetitive at times. Once, in the beginning of Hybrid’s creation, the two had agreed to rule the remaining territory together. They didn’t last a century before the first in a long line of inter-clan scuffles broke out.
From Koa’s high point, not even he was free from the vibrations worming away from the conflict. As Earth Clansmen brought down earthquakes upon them all, rubble and dislodged land shook like solid waves. Strange creations protruded out of ancient, castle-like structures — fractured and mended a thousand times over since the dawn of time. Pillars jutted between crenellated walls and spires.
This fight was taking place on the Earth Clan’s Territory, on the northern side of the great ravine.
Long ago, in an attempt to cease the endless wars, the Earth Clan had gathered all of their forces to split the territory in two. Relative peace had been achieved for a few fragile Passings. It wasn’t long until the Sand Clan had constructed great bridges, leading away from their pyramid-bases, and over the abyss to bring the battle right to the enemy.
Similar to what was occurring right now.
For an hour, Koa simply sat and observed. Mounds of sand stuffed the buildings’ interiors. Windows displayed nothing but sandy, choked insides. Multiple glass panes had burst open from the pressure, doors shot off their hinges, or just barely clung on.
What had interested Koa was the manipulation of the environment. Of course, such was a fundamental part of The Wild Clan’s arsenal, but he felt restricted. All he ever tended to do was warp trees, enlarge bushes, or make use of the other varieties of plantage available.
That was all well and good, but compared with the complete transformation of the environment he was witnessing here . . .
A chunk of passages sank deep into a sand dune.
It utterly paled in comparison.
Debris ricocheted in his direction. Koa barrelled out of the fray, and it took him a few moments to breathe again. He gulped, shuffling backwards for what he deemed a safe distance.
How observation could be such a dangerous form of training was beyond him. He probably had a better chance of avoiding injury by knocking on Nova’s door.
When his heart stopped racing, he scrutinised the battle once more. Though this time, forewent focusing on the battle at large. He focused in, instead, on the movement of the ground.
How was the land at his feet connected to The Wild?
Easy enough: the earth supplied the foundation for all the constructs of nature to offshoot from. It served as the home for countless creatures. Roots, bugs, small animals. They all left their imprint on the ground.
Koa’s current position was atop a bed of mud, splattered onto the rocky stretches of the hill behind him.
Next, he tried his hand at copying the actions of the Earth Clansmen. He guided his hand above the mud, trying to compel the brown goo into mimicking the direction he indicated.
Nothing. A second and third attempt had all the success of trying to move the moon by staring at it long enough. Like how that great oval would stay fixed to its axis, the boggy ground bore no difference.
Beginning to get frustrated, Koa found salvation in tackling a different approach.
He directed his senses on the things he did have control over. Those stretching roots, squirming worms, and all the innumerable means through which nature manifested itself.
The closest were higher up from where he was situated. Flowers, his internal eye gleamed. A careful climb up guided him towards a series of them. Orchids persisted despite the mountainous conditions, and Koa dropped from a borough a foot away from them.
Third try didn’t go as planned, so here’s hoping for the fourth . . .
It was unclear whether this would work or not. Sure, Koa possessed utter dominance over a thousand aspects of nature, but would their presence alone give him the leverage to do as others did in his stead?
Often, Koa recalled dirt being affected as a secondary target to his techniques. Like when he had to quickly create defensive walls of oak. Was that the surroundings simply being affected by the movement of his abilities? Or was something more useful lying in wake?
It was time to find out.
He gesticulated elaborately, making it easier to channel this Mark’s energy at the unfamiliar task. Though, this was unnecessary, for within the blink of an eye, the ground moved.
Well, less moved then it did explode in his face.
He spluttered, too disgusted to feel a great sense of achievement. Nevertheless, it worked.
Now he could try bigger fish. He adjusted his mental target, isolating a stretch of dirt not too far off. Bugs called the place home, and other litterings of nature made it the perfect target for his aim.
Delicately this time, so no wave of mud would be upheaved in a dire shower. He watched the patch move as he commanded it, fine-tuning his energy output so that he wasn’t stretching himself thin, or overwhelming the landmass.
This was progress at last. But what could he do with this?
There were obvious uses: turning the ground at his enemy’s feet against them, clearing a path through somewhere, and perhaps a new form of projectiles.
Something else. It was just on the outer boundaries of Koa’s awareness, so that he knew of its existence, though couldn’t point out what it was. What was he missing?
The questions were enough to drive anyone to hysteria.
He thought of the intricacies of The Wild, and that seemed to appease some nagging part of him.
How did nature use the land? Roots exploited the earth for its territory and nutrients. Animals and insects thrived in burrows and winding tunnels.
Then it hit Koa. Movement. He could exploit the earth for traversal.
For his final test, he needed a large area of land. Somewhere wide enough to be his personal sandbox. The question was where. The little dirt that coated the mountains was so fragmented. he couldn’t rely on it.
The battle below was still raging. Koa was only aware of it as a vague occurrence trying to deafen out his scrambling mind. Or perhaps that was the wrong way to think. His head shot back towards the raucous clash, and his daring impulses took control.
He wasn’t Remus, so didn’t take bold risks without them first being calculated. He dived towards a comparatively empty stretch of the battlefield. This was it: his playground.
By dive, what Koa actually meant was carefully sliding down the hillside. He reached the ground, a stretch of cracked marble flooring.
Pillars were either cracked or toppled at each corner. He ran for cover behind the only one that wasn’t tilting suspiciously. Then, a few cautious glances around reassuring him that nobody was there, Koa activated Chantal’s Mark once more.
He slipped through the earth, mimicking the actions of a worm as he commanded a path to form around him. This plot of insect-filled land was at the very outer reaches of the Earth Clan base, thriving with the creatures Koa was replicating right now.
Through the dark of the underground, Koa would have been lost if not for his senses. Nature all around acted as the perfect guidance, like waypoints. A couple tight canopies were located to the south, a grassy field yet to be charred by the feuding parties indicated the west, and similar natural formations gave him perfect guidance.
Above, thunderous footsteps of a battle still in action sent shudders deep into the ground. Koa ignored them outright, laughing in glee as much as he dared, without putting himself at risk of a mouthful of mud.
Animal manipulation, and a traversal technique to rival that of Remus’ flight and Violet's steady chops through space.
A long path was ahead of him, and Koa knew such for certain. Yet if he kept this up, he was sure of something else too.
He could give his elder brother a run for his money.