Rising Kite - A story from the world of HWFWM

Lady Stellaria Guixo Mendina Antanza floated in the air above the hideout of Pain’s adherents, blasting her gold-ranked aura out so that all the wretches cowering below could know her and cower. Hopefully, with the one exception.

Half a minute later, Lady Antanza had begun to wonder if she would have to join the rest of the adventurers down below as they converged on the hidden shrine, when another gold-ranked aura unfolded to meet hers. It was soon followed by a human woman exiting through the remote shrine’s front door, rising through the air to also hover above the craggy landscape below.

Her aura felt like shoving one’s hand into a bucket of needles, but Lady Antanza ignored the unpleasant sensation as she spoke.

“At least you show some sense, high priestess of Pain. It would be most bothersome if I had to strike you down amongst all the silvers down there. Holding back just makes things so tedious, especially if I have to dig out my own allies from the rubble afterwards.”

“Do not underestimate the house of my holy Lady,” the priestess replied tersely. “It will not be so easily sundered. Besides, this will give me ample opportunity to school you in Pain’s teachings, scouring your body while you can feel the anguish of your little minions falling to mine.”

The high priestess was clad in armor, a surprisingly mottled affair of leather and sharpened metal plates which left much of her arms and legs bare, as opposed to Lady Antanza’s beautifully lacquered full plate armor, her family’s blue and white colors shown on every decorative piece of clothing. The purpose of the other woman’s armor became clear soon enough though, as gleaming wicked blades started growing out of the flesh of her arms and legs, with smaller edges pushing through previously hidden slits of armor as the priestess of Pain was turned into the very essence of evisceration.

“So… Flesh essence. Maybe sword or knife as well? Such base concepts,” Lady Antanza said while looking down her nose on the other woman.

“They are my Lady Pain’s blessed instruments, and my closeness to her will be your undoing, you pompous bat,” the priestess retorted.

They could both feel the silver-ranked auras blooming out below as conflict was joined, but neither of the gold-rankers had any more attention to spare. Their auras had already been feeling each other out, and as one, they both moved.

To a mortal observer, both seemingly disappeared before waves of conjured blades started unfurling in the air like gargantuan flowers of bloody death.

To Lady Antanza and the priestess, the blur contained what felt like a world of its own as they moved with speeds their silver-ranked underlings would find hard to keep track of, even less fight against. The priestess had just begun her charge, but Antanza could already sense the sharp edges appearing all around her, the priestess’ will suffusing them even as the woman herself became a streak of light like the glint of a swung sword.

A fraction of a breath later, they clashed, with Antanza’s move seeming unhurried as she made one controlled step through the air, turning her armored form in an almost meditative, dance-like fashion. Each of the many incoming swords either missed or glanced harmlessly off Antanza's armor, the serenity of her step lending her an almost impervious feel.

Then, the placid rhythm was suddenly broken by a clap of thunder as the heel of an armored palm struck the incoming priestess, the air seeming to break for a moment as the gleaming slash that was the priestess was suddenly sent flying backward, her form folded in on itself as it trailed broken bits of blades. But instead of leaving a satisfying crater in the landscape beneath, Lady Atanza saw a flickering surge of mana as she continued to weave through the still ongoing barrage of conjured blades in the air around her. The priestess once more turned into the streaking slash from before, instantly reversing direction,

Antanza readied herself to counter yet again, preparing the transition from her Serene Step to Potent Stride when the world suddenly became obscured by a gushing fountain of blood.

“My blood,” she idly noted, the pain more a dim signal than actual agony. “She must have cut me across the eyes.” Like for most gold-rankers, Antanza’s eyes were no longer needed to perceive the world, which made her able to piece together the surprise attack as the incoming slash that was the priestess seemed to have teleported and merged with one of the other slashes that was inbound from one of the conjured swords.

“Even blindsided me,” she thought, lips quirking at the pun even as she shifted her Serene Step to interpose a gauntleted fist towards the next attack, the slashing streak that was the priestess measuring her will against Antanza’s a hundred times over a few seconds as the sky was cut asunder by a storm of severing slashes. “She is no slouch like some of the clergy out there.”

True to her deity, the dim pain the priestess had inflicted had not faded even as Antanza’s flesh and eyes knitted back together, but rather had increased to levels which almost made the gold-ranker nostalgic to her younger days where agony was an adventurer’s almost constant companion. But there was a reason that they had sent Lady Antanza to face an adherent of Pain.

“Lone ripple in the serene pond,” she intoned in her melodic voice. For a moment, the will of the priestess fought hers and the control Antanza was looking to impose. But the woman of bladed flesh fell short, and the world around them slowed to a crawl where glowing slashes of vicious intent became but frozen streaks of light with the priestess stuck partway through another rather nasty special attack.

Antanza, on the other hand, had not frozen, continuing her meditative steps from before but with a single change; a thin rapier seemingly made from the purest of crystal was conjured into one of her hands, chiming gently as it joined her flow. Every time its edge touched an errant trailing slash or projected destruction, it was like the frozen magic liquefied and turned into a flowing stream following the tip of the rapier. In less than a heartbeat of real time, it had turned from a small trickle to a mighty torrent of gathered potential and, sensing that her Second of Serenity was coming to an end, Antanza gently pivoted. And thrust.

The stillness of the moment snapped and the whole region shook as the potential in all those attacks, now combined and directed like a conductor guiding an orchestra, was unleashed. Even the lingering afflictions left within Antanza had been added to the flow, leaving her without the agony from before. The priestess was once more sent flying off into the distance with a sound like the world breaking, this time trailing way more than broken blades as she left a bloody trail through the air.

And this time, she did impact a nearby cliff, sending up a plume of rock dust dozens of meters through the air. But the wave of unleashed energies wasn’t spent yet, fanning out over the landscape as not all could be directed at the relatively small form of the priestess of Pain.

One edge of the attack even washed over the temple below, and to Antanza’s surprise the building buckled inwards before collapsing in a matter of seconds, adding its own plume of dust to the skyline.

“So much for ‘not so easily sundered’,” Antanza thought with a wince. Pain must only have a small area of actual domain in there, or the deity would probably have stepped in to protect it. But then the priestess came at Antanza again, a reverse meteor of bloody flesh and vicious blades as her form shed all semblance of humanity, and Antanza put the silver-rankers below to the back of her mind for now.

“We can always dig them out once I’m done dealing with this most vile company of mine.”

“So… I believe that I dare make the assumption that you aren’t very fond of Pain’s clergy?” Kite ventured a bit awkwardly.

“What gave you that idea?” Amica asked sarcastically, even though it was obvious that any barbs in her words were only directed towards herself.

“You using that priestess as a wrecking ball to demolish the inside of the hidden temple was indeed most impressive,” Kite agreed. “But it wasn’t like you to divert from the plan like that. And that it then meant that the temple had been weakened enough for the gold-rankers outside to accidentally cause it to collapse atop us… Not that I’m blaming you for that though,” he added quickly, gesturing to their surroundings. “At least we can await rescue in relative comfort.”

The pair was seated in an uneven space roughly two meters across, with the light from a glow stone illuminating the sandstone rubble which could be seen in all directions, held at bay by Kite’s barrier walls. When everything had come crashing down, Amica and Kite had been a bit isolated from the others as he had chosen to follow her furious telekinetic demolition to act as support. Fortunately, Amica had been able to push outwards and keep the rubble at bay long enough for Kite to add his barriers as a more stable and long-term structural support. As long as Kite remained nearby and they didn’t suffer too much damage from shifting rocks, Leyline warding would hold indefinitely as long as Kite fed it a trickle of mana.

“At least we don’t have to breathe…” Amica said awkwardly in the close confines, not meeting Kite’s gaze.

They sat in awkward silence for a while before Kite eventually decided that he’d rather face the shab in the room than spend what could be hours in uncomfortable tension. From the muted gold-ranked auras that could still be felt from the outside, things hadn’t quite died down yet.

“Would… you like to talk about it?” he carefully ventured.

Amica flinched slightly at his words, and at first he thought that she would make some excuse. But after what looked like some kind of inner dialogue, she spoke.

“Honestly, my feelings says no, but my brain says yes. And as my feelings haven’t been too helpful lately, I suppose I’ll go with the latter,” she said, glancing up at him. Kite gave her a nod to continue, and so she did.

“It’s nothing so special really, but back at iron rank, me and my brand new team had a run-in with Pain’s clergy. We thought we could handle the two-star contract of investigating missing people, thinking that it was some hidden monster lair which needed to be either scouted or cleared out. Instead, we found a small, hidden chapel of Pain. And they had a pair of bronze-rankers who managed to take us by surprise. Three out of four of us were even taken alive.”

“Oh…” Kite said, understanding dawning in his mind.

“Yeah… It was…” she said, taking a shuddering breath even though there was not actual need for it with her silver-ranked body. “One of them, a priestess, she took a special liking to me. Had a wicked fascination of the body, both inside and out. Female bodies especially, it turned out. It was… I’ll spare us both the details, but it was bad. We were there for fifteen days before a rescue party came, more prepared than us, Fortune be praised. If the worshippers of Pain had been just a bit more experienced and actually disposed of our belongings properly, we probably never would have gotten out of there.

And over two weeks with that bitch… It left some scars,” she said, unconsciously holding a hand to her lower abdomen. ”Real scars. I still got them, but you probably wouldn’t see them even if I was stark naked. Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean-” before she realized what she had said and how it might have been interpreted.

Kite waved away her concerns though, as it was rather clear that there was no propositioning involved in this particular conversation.

“It’s no worries, I understand. I also understand your reaction above a bit better, spectacular as it may have been.”

Amica sighed, leaning her head back against the barrier behind her. “Ryker will be so mad. Do you think I ruined my chances of joining?”

“While our dear leader and supervisor can be hard to read, I think that your service so far should have made up for a lapse in self-control. But they might just hesitate sending you against known Pain adherents again.”

At his words, Amica nodded before burrowing her face in her hands. “I really thought I was over this all. That reaching silver and just - I don’t know, being in control? - had fixed things. But now I mess this up because of some freaks over fifteen years ago, and according to the mind healer I’m seeing, it might even be part of why I was so damn set on getting you into my bed.”

Seeing Kite’s obvious surprise at the last part, she averted her eyes again as she continued.

“She said that it’s apparently common for people who have been through great perils to start to act out in different ways, with sex being one of them; either through willingly surrendering control or taking it. It still sounds pretty odd to me, because there have been quite a few guys before you who didn’t seem to mind at all. But from what happened. What I…” Amica said, sighing after she trailed off. “I’m sorry, Kite. I went too far.”

Even though she still couldn’t meet his gaze, her aura was left open enough for her sincerity to be left bare. In return, Kite nodded while giving her aura a nudge of his own; the spiritual equivalent of a hand on the shoulder.

But before he could speak any further, their little holdout beneath the rubble suddenly became way more cramped as Emilio appeared out of thin air.

“Oh- Ow!” the elf said as he bashed his head against the barrier ceiling. He crouched while trying to regain as much dignity as possible. “Well, glad to see you aren’t just stuck in the rubble. And a good thing that I managed to mark you in time before the collapse. In all my humble compassion, I saw it fit to see if we could go about rescuing you. I-” Emilio began, but fell silent as he finally managed to take in the mood.

“Ehm… Right,” he said, looking between the two of them. “I’ll just leave this beacon here then… And… go?” As he spoke, he retrieved an orb from his dimensional storage, the magical markings on it flashing to life as it started emitting an aura of its own. As neither Kite nor Amica answered, he awkwardly continued. “I used teleportation to escape earlier, so… Sit tight? Don’t go anywhere? Help will arrive soon. I’ll just go now.”

And with that, he disappeared again.

The mood thoroughly shifted, Kite couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, how considerate of him.”

“He sure is… an acquired taste,” Amica noted. “But he has gotten more decent as time passed, at least when Gray Sky isn’t around.”

A bit of the awkwardness had returned, but this time Kite felt a lot more comfortable in trying to ameliorate it.

“As for our earlier topic before the elf-shaped dimensional interruption; Thank you, Amica. I truly appreciate it. You are an impressive adventurer, and I hope that we can put this behind us as we are sure to work more together in the future. Ryker and the others have been a little too excited about that trick we pulled with the alchemists. But you’ll probably still need to give Glint some time,” he added, both of their gazes drawn to the head of the still very wary carp who poked out of the bottle at Kite’s waist.

“I will have to do my best, then,” Amica noted.

“Something that does strike me is that this explains your aura a bit. Soul scars tend to increase the strength of one’s aura, no?”

“While I’m not sure I can call it a silver lining, it sure has helped,” Amica acknowledged. “You’ve already seen what I can do if I can suppress someone.”

“Oh, I have. But I believe that is why you were also the first to notice when the shapeshifter that had replaced Alina, the supposed high magistrate’s daughter. Emilio still owes you for that. Also-” Kite said thoughtfully, “- it can finally help me place the feel of your aura. Because I believe I have met someone else with plenty of such scars.”

“Oh? Who?” Amica asked, curious.

“Someone you’d very much despise,” Kite said with a wince. “She’s actually the daughter of a high priest of Pain; a fugitive still on the run in my homeland. But like you, her senses picked up things I did not when we happened into a rather uneasy cooperation for the briefest of times back at bronze rank.”

“As it sounds like it is quite the story behind those statements, I’d very much like to hear it. I’ll even withhold judgment for your apparent lack of sense in cooperating with such scum,” Amica noted, an eyebrow raised.

“Well,” Kite said, looking around at their confines. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere until help arrives. Then let me regale you with the tale of the Descending Star sect. And its fall.”

“I thank you, great benefactor!” Kite said breathlessly as he looked at the heaping tables of food laid out before them; meats, vegetables, breads, sauces and spiced wines. All of it smelled of myriad spices, many entirely new to Kite. Combined with the spectacular vista through the panoramic windows of the restaurant atop to floating island, Kite had to acknowledge the power of connections sure was something.

“I simply felt it fitting to celebrate now that we only have one month left of this little evaluation. Especially as we happened to finally go somewhere with some proper venues,” Emilio said smugly from where he sat at the table. “While this isn’t quite like the best place in the capital, it sure comes close. And they will always find a table for a Cardenco.”

Of their makeshift team, only Ryker and Gray Sky were absent; the former busy with reports and whatever severe kind of introspection Kite’s dour supervisor-turned-teacher did in his free time. The latter had instead scoffed at the offer, not wanting to accept any handouts from his rival.

“While this will not affect our final evaluation, I will still have to commend your tastes, Emilio,” Christine said from across the table. “And celebrating, building rapport and all that is also important. If you continue working with Gauntlet, you’re bound to bump into most others soon enough. While there are quite a few of us, silvers and above can live long lives.”

“And Christine here will probably do anything to forget whatever that priest of Corruption spewed all over her yesterday,” Mtanga added cheerfully.

“I’ll drink to that,” the blonde elf agreed, shuddering at the memory while refilling her glass.

“Senior sister, is that usually what Corruption’s clergy looks like?” Kite broke in, taking the opportunity to ask.

“Like half-melted, mutated monsters? No, not always. Corruption is a rather multi-faceted concept,” Mtanga said, answering while Christine was busy draining her glass in one, long gulp. “I once faced a priestess whose powers instead seemed to be more about the corruption of magic. Let me tell you, seeing your conjured arrows starting to warp while sprouting mouths whispering gibberish is not my fondest memory.”

“I mean, with Undeath, you at least know what you get; undead. Zombies, ghouls and stuff. Nice and simple. Or… wait, not nice. But simple. Unless you get those complicated varieties,” Christine said, now a bit tipsy.

Emilio had, in great length and detail, told the party of the local wine barons and their fierce competitive streaks. While it led to not a small amount of bloodshed between the families who owned the vineyards, it also led to a country who knew its liquor. Which in turn led to a certain elf now going from tipsy to straight up drunk at great speeds.

“It feels like we have stumbled upon followers of the dark gods rather often during these three months, even when the contract itself mentioned none of it,” Kite noted, smiling along with the rest of them at Christine's antics while nursing his drink even more carefully.

“Well, isn’t that obvious?” Amica noted, a little tipsy too, at least if the slightly wobbling levitating glass was anything to go by. “They aren’t exactly welcome in society, so they hide. And who else hides? Criminals. I mean, most churches of the shunned gods are probably financed by syndicates like that we helped strike against in our first contracts.”

“Any other noteworthy ones then?” Kite continued. “We’ve met those following Pain, Plague, Destruction, Undeath and Corruption so far. Maybe Disguise too? I’m still unclear as to where that shapechanger who had replaced Alina came from.”

“Well, there are always the lesser aspects of those you mentioned,” Mtanga answered. “And sometimes, there are the followers of more legitimate gods who go overboard. Strength, Vengeance and the like.”

“What about Discord then? Ever met them?” Kite asked, trying to remain as off-handed as possible. He thought he succeeded too, until he noted Amica giving him a brief, weird look before being distracted by a slight spill from her levitating cup.

“Well, Mtanga, I don’t think I have faced any of Discord’s,” Christine noted, looking overly thoughtful in her inebriated state.

“Me neither, but from what I have learned through my studies, they are often subtle and in the background. It is rare that it is we in Gauntlet who face them, but rather the more investigative task groups. Politics is almost always involved, one way or another,” Mtanga supplied, ever helpful before his smile faded somewhat. “But I have also gathered that it is not a church you would want to trifle with unless you have a solid support, else you might suddenly find your whole networks of connections and allies collapsing around you. Discord creates just that, after all, and his followers are notorious for using local strife as their weapon.”

Kite had a growing sense of unease in his stomach as Mtanga had continued his explanation, but Christine once more came to the rescue before the atmosphere could turn heavy.

“And besides, such things are boooooring,” she added, Amica clinking her glass to Christine’s in agreement. “Give me a door to kick down any day.”

“Or lowlifes to track and expose,” Emilio noted.

“A chance to do Justice’s work, swiftly and decisively,” Sztyka added, her statement being her first contribution to the conversation.

“And to make sure that those fuckers don’t hurt anyone else,” Amica called, a bit too loud as the wine was getting to her too.

Feeling the expectant looks of the rest upon him, Kite smiled and raised his glass as well. “And to make sure that we remain strong enough to make a difference tomorrow as well.”

“To Gauntlet, then!” Mtanga called, finishing the toast. Six glasses clinked together, like a bell marking that the final month of contracts had begun.

Kite once more charged his lone opponent, the arms of his mantle sending projected attacks to keep his foe on the back foot while he closed the distance. At the last moment, Kite swung his staff, mimicking a move which Phiona had taught him as the swing transitioned into an elaborate, spinning feint. The real danger there was the butt of the weapon, which darted in with lethal precision to seek out the legs of Kite’s target.

Said target, a leonid man with mottled gray fur and pale blue robes, was not about to be caught by such a feint, though. With motions more fluid than water yet more decisive than an erupting geyser, he nudged each attack aside or pivoted just enough for Kite’s attempts to fail, his dark eyes having a certain kind of knowing gleam all the while. Like the last time Kite had visited, they sparred within a white marble hall devoid of other decorations; the only stimuli being the motions of the other.

The pair continued the clash, transitioning between attacking and defending in what was, to Kite, as close to live combat as sparring had ever come. That his opponent was a gold-ranker, and not a young one either, did help though, as there was simply no way for Kite to actually threaten his newest teacher.

Eventually, the leonid’s aura surged gently, and Kite immediately ceased, stepping back as the glow of his tattoos faded.

“I thank master for the spar,” he said, bowing with reverence. From his talks with Ryker, he had understood that master Zarth-an, simply called the Scholar, rarely accepted a batch of recruits for tutelage, even brief ones like Kite’s. Therefore, he had decided to treat the opportunity for the blessing that it was, and so far, it had truly not disappointed.

“You have improved since last time, but there are still repeated mistakes,” the leonid stated calmly, going straight to business as usual. “While we will go through them at length, the most important thing to address during this and the upcoming sessions is your overall style. It remains a chimera that still hasn’t fully connected its many heads.

Tell me, where did you learn that feint at the beginning of our final exchange?”

“From Phiona Geller, master. A bronze-ranker at the time.”

“A master confluence?”

“Yes, master.”

“I thought as much. Then tell me, student, do you possess the master confluence?”

“No, master,” Kite answered, knowing the question to be rhetorical. But in their dealings so far, Zarth-an had been straightforward, and expected nothing less in return.

“Then why attempt to fight like one? The master confluence gives powers to increase the affinity within the chosen field to heights greater than anyone else could achieve. While the feint could be somewhat effective against low to medium-skilled opponents, you simply lack the magical foundations to really utilize it.” There was no derision in the leonid’s words. He even sounded kind in his directness.

“Then what does master suggest?” Kite asked in return. “If I am to strive for something else than mastery, how will I ever be able to stand toe-to-toe with those that have?”

“Do not confuse mastery with complexity, student. If you detach the concept and ask yourself that question, what answer comes to you?”

Kite mulled it over for a while, the gold-ranker ever patient as he thought. “If mastery is its own virtue, and complexity might be detrimental, then wouldn’t the opposite be the place to start? So that means-

-Simplicity?” he finished aloud, the question receiving an approving nod.

“With your powers and advantages, you have the power to make almost any fight boil down to the basics, student, while you still retain the upper hand. And trust me that there is a depth to the seemingly simple and direct. Your aura is an earnest one, and you should let your style reflect that as well. At least, that is the advice I give you.”

While it was phrased as a simple statement, Kite knew that only a fool would ignore it, even if he was still trying to wrap his head around it. Kite had learned that Zarth-an the Scholar was apparently regarded as one of the most proficient masters of weapons and techniques within the adventure society. What made this doubly impressive was that none of his essences were directly related to weaponry at all.

Where one might expect something like the arsenal confluence, Zarth-an possessed the eye, adept and knowledge essences, leading to the master confluence. Rumor said that he had spent three hundred years studying and teaching techniques of every weapon conceivable, his powers also making him a teacher of uncountable value as he strived to learn all there was to learn within the field. One comment from him was said to be able to change an adventurer’s life, and while Kite understood the exaggeration for what it was, spending close to two hours under the man’s tutelage had been quite the experience. And he even had a third and a fourth one scheduled too, telling Kite that this encounter would in all probability improve his path forever.

So as he saw the advice for what it was, Kite leapt at the opportunity.

“Then would master please show this lowly student the simplicity of which he speaks?”

The leonid’s patient smile didn’t shift in the slightest as he simply nodded. “I will. Let us begin.”

Kite looked the strap over again, flexing his arm back and forth to see that the armor moved smoothly.

“While you have served me well, I do look forward to the commission being finished,” he thought as he checked the last joints of the simple silver-ranked armor he had worn since rising to silver rank while waiting for something better to come along.

But so far, Something From Nothing hadn’t delivered anything that was a better fit for him and his path, the odd looting ability working a bit more erratically now that Kite had mostly fought other essence users where a lot of them had been taken alive. So Kite had decided to act while he still had ready access to the trade halls of the Port Singhni campus, paying a considerable amount of his earnings so far to an armorer whom Christine had personally recommended.

“It will probably be done soon, so this might even be our last contract together for a while,” he thought, directing it to the unsurprisingly silent piece of armor. Rising to his feet, Kite looked to his teammates who had spread themselves out across the back of the gargantuan manta ray which happened to be their current mode of transportation.

The huge creature was entirely silent as it smoothly bent the water around it, transporting its passengers at great speed while its back supported a formation which kept a constant bubble of air around its passengers. Kite could see little but dark waters around them, the surface glittering far above, but he knew that they should be drawing close to their target soon.

“Everyone, get ready,” Ryker called from where he stood at the front, peering out into the oceanic gloom. The man was already fully armored, his enchanted cloak moving a bit of its own accord as part of it split into separate strands which wound their way around his limbs to strengthen and protect them further.

After fighting alongside the supervisor for just over three months, Kite had gotten a new appreciation for the potential in the cloth essence. Normally associated with crafters, Ryker instead combined it with the might and magic essences to form the animate confluence, conjuring, manipulating or empowering the enchanted fibers to further strengthen himself, with added utility powers like the strands which he used to attack much like the arms of Kite’s mantle or how he could create other utilitarian options on the fly.

He gave a nod to the manta’s bonded companion, one of many such adventurers kept on retainer by the adventure society to ferry the different task groups out into places that were otherwise difficult to reach, before he joined the gathering team.

“I will remind you that the smuggling operation which the investigative groups have uncovered is believed to be of a much larger scale than those of our previous contracts. It was actually the size and scale of the shipments which managed to eventually lead us to them. So far, surveillance has not given any indication of any gold-ranked presence, but there has been enough pirate activity in this region for us to expect that the resistance will be stiff. Expect more potent magical defenses too.

We will be one of two teams who will attempt to dig our way inside through the cliffs at the target island’s base, with more conventional stealth teams making their way inside up top. As you know, our objectives are capturing key personnel of the smuggling rings and securing what cargo we can before they can escape with it. Any magical infrastructure we can disrupt will also be welcome, especially if we can dismantle their dimensional nets and erect our own instead to make teleporting or portaling in reinforcements easier. Another team will have that as their main objective, but we should lend a hand if we’re able.”

“Gray Sky would like to know why our targets aren’t more specific,” the runic noted skeptically, where he stood with his arms crossed. “Are we to just enter blindly?”

“As I believe that I told you before, there are plenty of contracts where we will have less information than we like,” Ryker replied tersely. “The adventure society trusts us to make do with the more vague objectives, coordinating with the other teams and using our own judgment. Attempts at detailed managing in this case would just be a demonstration of bad leadership. If you still feel that these kinds of contracts are above what you can handle, I would have expected you to drop out a long time ago.”

“Besides,” Christine added with her usual relaxed tone, ”the operation seems to be expansive enough for something akin to a small town to have formed over time. Expect chaos to ensue when civilians are thrown into the mix. That we are sent at all is a sign that the adventure society trusts us to make solid choices. Better to just see it as an honor that we, a team of recruits, is even included.”

Gray Sky didn’t retort, but still seemed unconvinced. All of them had noted the increasing tensions between the runic and the supervisors during the last months, the proud man not content with butting heads with just Emilio anymore. Still, he had done his part during contracts, even if his actions outside them had otherwise led to him alienating himself from the rest of the group.

“Anyone else have any… questions?” Ryker asked, stern gaze wandering over the gathered team.

“In fact, I do, teacher,” Kite said. “Have we received any more word about the expected contents of the cargo or its intended destination since we received the information in our folders?”

“None so far, so expect the usual; restricted essences and outlawed artifacts and alchemical goods. Black market stuff, but in bigger quantities,” Ryker said, at least not dismissing the question. “As for destination, you raise a valid question. I feel that we should make finding out anything about it a prioritized secondary objective for our team unless the situation dictates otherwise. The place we’re going to seems to have stood for quite a while, so we expect there to be a lot to dig up. You can’t run an organization of that size without some administration.”

Any more questions had to be put on hold as the team felt the manta beneath their feet start to slow down, forcing all of the silver-rankers to lean slightly to keep their balance. The darkness around them became less of a blur, and eventually Kite could make out the seabed below, covered in billowing seaweed for as far as the eye could see.

And further ahead, far off in the distance, something big and dark was slowly coming into visibility; a vast cliff wall of stone reaching straight up from the ocean floor. Kite couldn’t make out its edges in the murk, indicating that if it was the base of the cliff island above, it should indeed be large enough to house a decently sized town.

“Ryker, we’re drawing close,” the manta’s bonded companion called from ahead. “Flatbread here can only take us so close without discovery. He may be silent, but his size leaves something to be desired when it comes to avoiding people who might just look down into the water and spot him,” the silver-ranked woman said, giving the manta - apparently named Flatbread - a consoling pat as it gave off a low rumble of protest.

“Then just give the word, and we’ll go the final stretch ourselves. Glint, think you can carry us?” Ryker said, directing the last question to the bottle at Kite’s hip where the glittering carp peeked out.

Even though the proud lifting of her head communicated her feelings rather clearly, Kite still supplied; “Little beauty here is most confident.”

“Good. Then those of us that need it better don your underwater gear. Once we get the signals that the other teams are in position, it is time to get into the fray once more.”