Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS
Standing over the fallen body of the third enforcer, Juen heaved deep breaths, ignoring the throbbing pain of both an intense headache and the various gunshot wounds he had acquired over the course of the battle.
The fight had gone astonishingly well for the two of them, with both Juen and Keitel emerging with no substantial energies, at least not as far as their genesis physiques were concerned. The terrain had greatly assisted with this, as the factory floor was far more suited to the martial artists than to the enforcers.
However, victory had come at a price. He had overdrawn his cores, nearly having gone far enough to damage his foundation. Inside of him, sanguine miasma flowed more than ever, a flood which threatened to overwhelm him. Juen could feel it, coursing inside like blood through his veins. It almost seemed to have started to integrate with the genesis, not fusing, but not causing quite as much damage as it had before. Far less than it rightfully should have, according to his understanding of miasma.
He couldn’t help but worry that perhaps those Redwater Sect bastards had done something to him while he was captured. He had been asleep for most of that time, leaving them with more than enough opportunity, and as for motive… there was no question that they would do such a thing if possible.
Still, praise the Mother, he thought. He had been worried about this mission ever since he saw the first enforcer, but this conclusion was far superior to anything he could have hoped for. Not only had they destroyed what was clearly an important Celan factory, but they had also taken down multiple enforcers, and with such few casualties. This punishment operation had turned out to be a powerful image boost for him. Personally, he did not mind the change.
Juen chuckled as he walked to Keitel, clapping the other man on the back with his infectious mood on full display. His wounds were nothing compared to the joy of success and the power of his adrenaline high. Given the circumstances they would need to return to Canvas Town early, but with such success, that was but a trifling issue.
A small part of Juen felt that something was wrong, his mood unusual, but he discarded such thoughts. It was better to enjoy the moment.
Keitel, however, gave him an odd look, shrugging Juen’s hand off of his shoulder with a scowl. Presumably, he was still upset about having been dragged out and put into danger.
“Let us get going,” Keitel said tersely, “There will be reinforcements soon.”
Juen frowned, and opened his mouth to reply, only to notice something odd at the edge of his senses. He glanced downward, only for his eyes to widen in shock. He moved to say something, but was shocked by the blinding energies looming below. Juen’s newly enhanced sense brought new depth to his migraine, overstimulated by the intensity of the aura. It felt as if he was staring into the sun, and he was blinded by the magnitude of the power emitted. He could sense that it was flickering miasma, in such vast quantities beyond what he could even imagine. Juen was so distracted that it took him much longer than it should have to realize that the object, whatever it was, was steadily approaching, closer and closer with each second that passed.
Noticing his distraction, Keitel gave Juen an odd look, waiting expectantly for him to follow in the older man’s wake. He was still playing the part of the dutiful bodyguard, at least until one of the two returned home. Juen cursed, as suddenly, the world fell into chaos. A vast metallic shape slammed through the wall, crushing everything in its path. Startled, Juen took a step back as he watched another martial artist trip and fall into the newly opened hole in the ground.
He cursed, not even sure what he was looking at. Was the stack itself collapsing? Not even a crashed aero could cause this much damage. Perhaps an explosion elsewhere in the facility? A stray bullet might have ignited something explosive. From the corner of his eyes, he had watched as tens of his soldiers were massacred, crushed under the piles of rubble. Juen’s bright mood had already faded, his mind filled with familiar scenes of the forward base, the walls and ceiling falling in on him, leaving him cocooned within the earth. It was as if Juen’s life was an endless cycle of misery, he thought.
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Setting aside such questions of philosophy, Juen sidestepped a falling piece of the ceiling, inspected the changes that had occurred within the room. Of note, the room had become filled with a dense orange mist that seemed to be cast off of the oversized metal structure. Said structure appeared to slowly recede in a sinuous manner, as if it were some sort of tentacle or multi-jointed appendage. This movement finally clued Juen in, the final piece of the puzzle that he had been denying.
“They’re insane,” he muttered.
The Supreme Elder needed to know. If he was not able to arrive in time, Juen knew that his death would be certain. Despite all of his power, accumulated through great hardship and effort over the decades, a titan remained far beyond the reach of a mere newly advanced spirit refiner.
But these thoughts had little to do with his immediate situation, as the titan’s limb crashed once again into the factory, sending debris crashing towards Juen, who was forced to leap out of the way of a wave of sharp metal ingots. All care for his clansmen had faded, leaving only his opportunistic will to survive. As several of the ingots clattered into his back, his mist unable to handle the extreme force of their momentum, Juen let out a pained grunt.
Had he never been tainted by the sanguine path, Juen might have died, but his new cerebral technique almost seemed perfectly designed for a situation such as this, and even through the thick metal walls still dripping with the blood of his allies, Juen could sense in detail the entirety of the titan’s form due to the resplendent coating of miasma floating around it. In fact, it would have been harder for him not to notice the spider-like machine. His mind was operating in overdrive, his senses extended as far as possible, trying desperately to track the movements of the metal beast. However, sensing the timing of the titan’s attacks only did so much. While he could sense the titan’s movements in perfect clarity, the same was not true for their outcomes. The factory was filled with discarded chunks of rubble and machinery that was not secured to the floor, all of which went flying with each collision.
Sensing another incoming limb, Juen dove to the ground, finally making it out through the factory’s door as the interior of the factory was crushed for a third time by the repeated tempo of the titan’s attacks. Juen rolled onto his back and made to stand up, gaining an idea of the situation.
Though he was no longer inside, it was clear to Juen that the outside was not all that much safer. The surrounding area was filled with cracks in the metal and stone of the stack structure, fragmenting chunks of the ceiling slowly beginning to crumble and fall onto the street, where pedestrians were actively fleeing as quickly as their mortal feet could take them.
The destructiveness of a machine comparable to the immortal realm was not to be understated, he thought, as the titan went in for a fourth blow. This time, part of the stack crumbled with it. The cracks deepened, splintering as the section of floor above him collapsed, causing hundreds of pounds of rubble to fall on everyone unfortunate enough to stand below. Caught in falling rubble for the second time in weeks, Juen could do nothing except curse his own poor luck.
With a great exertion, Juen let out most of the stored energy he had left, shoving aside the falling rubble in a vain attempt to clamber to his feet, but he stumbled, having little energy left in the chamber after his injuries. The rubble fell around him, scattering across the area, and crushing a number of unfortunate passersby. For a long moment, Juen simply sat and breathed, impressed at his own survivability. As he sat and rested, his eyes still scanning for threats, the migraine suddenly intensified, and Juen felt as if something in his brain had popped, the region flooded with so much sanguine miasma that it was as if all of the genesis had been forced out.
“Shit,” Juen muttered, swaying from the intensity of his agonized skull, one which was rapidly losing consciousness.
Hail to the lady of blood, he thought deliriously, as his mind faded, and he fell to the floor, feeling oddly resigned.
The Supreme Elder of the Hadal Clan: [An enigmatic figure who rarely takes action, his existence only became known when he took action to fight off an attacking titan, before disappearing once again, with rumors of death from his injuries. Rumors have claimed that he is a true immortal ascendant, while others say that he is an earthly immortal, or perhaps just a very powerful spirit refiner. Regardless, the Supreme Elder is known to be the clan’s trump card, someone who always remains in the sect to protect it unless there is dire need. Since the events of ten years ago, the Supreme Elder has remained in the Shadows, doing nothing that might provoke the government. To the wider world, his name and history remain unknown, prompting many to believe that he was either trained up in secret by the clan, or is perhaps simply so ancient that records of him have been lost to time.]