Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS

The streak of red mist that intermixed with the field of green alarmed Karie, informing her that something had gone very wrong. At first, she had simply found it odd, assuming it was due to his injuries, but she swiftly realized that could not be the case. That might have been possible if Juen were simply discharging his miasma, but he was using a technique- a technique that she knew well. The presence of sanguine miasma should have disrupted the technique from forming the mist at all, rather than producing both. Was he using a different technique?

While she considered the matter, the two remained trapped in the mire of their own domains, fighting a ballet in slow motion, each unable to grasp any opportunities to end the stalemate. True to her title, Karie attempted to spin her blades chaotically, attempting to sneak past her cousin’s defences. With her left blade, she moved upwards, aiming for Juen’s throat, while her right blade went low, hoping for a slice to the gut. Juen spun his staff, and, annoyed, Karie knew that neither of her attacks would be able to land. To avoid giving him an opportunity to counter-attack, she averted the blows, feeling what should have been a mere moment stretch out for what felt like minutes. Karie found she had far more time to think than she would in a normal fight.

Somewhere along the line, Karie suddenly realized that the Reth had vanished. Where could she have gone off to, Karie wondered? The answer did not matter, she decided. She had likely gone off to help the Riverfiend with something. Karie did not, could not, trust the woman, and Irid’s absence oddly heartened her.

Pausing the spin of his staff, Juen raised it, shifting his weight as the weapon slammed down towards her. Karie leapt out of the way, realizing too late that her trajectory would take her right through the tendrils of red within the mist.

The strand touched Karie’s arm and she shivered uncontrollably, feeling vast quantities of sanguine miasma push into her through what she could clearly discern to be a conduit. So that was his ploy, she thought.

Taking another look at Juen, Karie realized that his skin had become sweaty and reddish, almost pink in color, and he appeared to be sick. Whatever had happened to him, it did not seem healthy. Was he now following a dual miasma path? Why would he do such a foolish thing? Such action would have been extremely out of character from him.

“Your words were bold,” she said, taking a step backwards to gain distance and reset her stance, “but it seems you’re in no position to judge my decisions, Juen.” She herself might have been working with unorthodox practitioners, but she had not been foolish enough to alter her path. To work with them was one thing, but to stoop to their level was another.

“The Mother has given me grace,” he simply replied, causing Karie’s smile to freeze. Something was seriously off about him. Of that, she had become extremely certain. Juen did not talk like that, even if he were pretending to be an actual follower of the Ceirran faith, she could not imagine him expressing such devotion. But those words, the oddities with his techniques- this was not representative of a devout Ceirran.

“You- when did you become a Depthist?” she asked, so shocked that she was unable to maintain any form of decorum. Half of her attention was still maintained on her internal condition, and the process of rapidly eliminating all foreign miasma from her meridians.

Juen frowned, as if he did not understand the question.

“I- I don’t...” He grasped at his forehead, as if an intense headache had come over him. “I heard her voice, Karie. Her hand guides us all.”

With her expression blank, Karie charged again, hoping to catch him off guard. Ultimately, it did not matter to her what had happened to Juen. He seemed weary, and as she had hoped, his reaction was subdued and slow. This was the first real opportunity she had found since the start of the fight, and Karie would not allow it to slip away from her.

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Not again.

Thrusting with her full weight behind the blow, Karie’s sword tore through the flesh between his ribs, and she rapidly pulled it back out, sending flecks of blood dripping across the pavement as Juen sputtered and groaned in pain. He lashed out with his left arm, causing her to lose her grip on the blade embedded inside of him.

“Always sneaking around, always interfering,” he snarled. Juen’s hands waved widely as he spun around, his appearance almost evoking that of a street-bound drug addict. Hearing his words, Karie sneered.

“Are you not the one at fault for this situation, dear cousin?” she asked, walking slowly towards him. He spun again, this time swinging the staff with all his force, driving Karie further backwards. Blood had started to drip from his nose, and his movements had slowed by the slightest amounts. It seemed exhaustion and injury was finally starting to catch up with him, she thought.

Up until this point, Juen had somehow remained energetic, despite Karie’s own weariness. To move at all under the suppression of their techniques required a great deal of energy, and Karie’s reserves had their limits.

Juen couldn’t be much more advanced in foundation or realm than me, Karie thought, unable to guess where his seemingly limitless energy might have been coming from. Did that also relate to the secret of his changed path, and his shift in religion? Perhaps he had simply tapped into more of his reserves, his mental state not conducive to holding back.

She leapt towards him, hoping to both reacquire her sword and place him further on the defensive, seeking a further opportunity, but this time Juen dodged, his hindered agility still more than enough to dodge her slow attack. She frowned, swearing to herself as he tore her blood-quenched blade from his chest and dropped it haphazardly to the floor below as he shambled towards her..

He dove low, aiming for her lower legs while Karie dodged, passing by to collect her discarded weapon. She would never be at full effectiveness with only one weapon in hand, and was wary enough of her cousin to avoid such situations, even if it came at a cost.

Just as Juen blocked another blow of hers, his staff having wrapped itself perfectly around him to collide with her blades with a hearty thwokk. Juen moved to kick her, to take advantage of her momentary coverage, but suddenly, their fight was interrupted as a bright, piercing noise sounded from past the edge of the stack, shocking Karie and causing her to stumble. It was one of the loudest noises Karie had ever heard, and she instinctively turned to see what was happening, only to be thrown across the floor by the impact of a cloud of flickering miasma so thick as to become tangible. She felt her skin sizzle, as if her epidermis wished to separate itself from the rest of her body. Had something strange happened to the titan?

Karie tilted her head to catch a view of what had happened, but already, there was little to see. A massive cloud of orange and purple filled the air beyond the railing. That must have been a fight between the Supreme Elder and the titan, she thought. Nothing she wished to have any part in.

Both of them wished for her death, after all. Even showing her face in front of the Supreme Elder was a foolish notion, and one that she would happily avoid, if possible.

A powerful breeze appeared from nowhere, blowing small flakes of rock and garbage across the parking garage. Karie turned back to glance towards the titan, only to notice a lanky, bearded practitioner who had appeared off to the side, his eyes slowly roving between herself and her rival. He had a dour expression on his face, one which matched Karie’s own.

“I had such high hopes,” sighed the Supreme Elder, as he glanced over at Juen, who had an awkward look on his face. “I’m not sure how I can adapt to this outcome,” he continued, his expression far more sour than usual.

Associations Between Sanguine Miasma and the Depthist Cult: [The Depthist religion is extremely widespread despite its nature as an illegal religion. In a matter that was first discovered due to statistical analysis, sanguine practitioners of the Staiven and Seiyal races have a 25% higher chance of joining the Depthists or expressing positive opinions towards the cult and its members. Due to their low numbers and insular community, the Reth were unable to be sampled, but as every member of the race can be considered a sanguine practitioner, there has been some interest in researching such statistics among their numbers.]