Rising Kite - A story from the world of HWFWM

Among pain, violence, churning ambient mana and the chaotic flaring of auras locked in combat, Solomon Blaske lived his best life. It hadn’t always been so, and he still remembered the terrified young man who had been forced to strike out on his own all those years ago.

“Poor little, Solomon. So scared and alone. It would be nice to reach back through time and tell him that things would work out in the end. That he would start to like the fear. Revel in it, even,” he thought as he guided his Nihil to shred a nearby rune trap while leaping out of the way of yet another attack from that cloth-guy. Because Solomon Blaske had found that, like many emotions, fear and thrill were almost indistinguishable if one just had the right outlook.

Sometimes, he even thought that his Nihil made things less exciting. Sure, the younger him had been a bit disappointed when his conjured ‘weapon’ turned out to be just a ball of, well, nothing. But given how well the little, hungry thing had worked as both an offensive and defensive tool and how splendidly it meshed with his other powers, the disappointment hadn’t lasted.

Everything the Nihil devoured, Blaske’s other powers could use. Sure, the little hole in the world wasn't entirely insatiable, but that was one little thing he wouldn’t let slip, no matter how much he loved to talk about himself. Speaking of which, it was time to prod the cloth-guy again. Blaske had seen his type so many times before; no-nonsense, always serious adventurers way too caught up in their own importance and supposed skill. As long as he kept talking, it usually threw them off their game eventually. And even if it didn’t, talking was always fun anyway.

“I have to give it to you, it’s a nice little set of traps you have here. I’ll probably have to go recruiting a bit once we’re done here,” Blaske called. “Do you think that whoever laid these traps is interested in a great work opportunity? Great pay, a lot of personal freedom, picking your own contracts - the fun kind -” he started counting off as he continued to exchange attacks with the stern man while steadily pushing the adventurer back down the trapped street.

Off to the side, Franz had already done a great job in using his charged fiery flail to send the creepy leonid woman flying only gods knew where, and had joined another of their teammates in pressuring the telekineticist of the other team. A sexy telekineticist too.

“The offer goes out to you too, hot stuff!” Blaske called out in her direction. The benefit of fighting other silver-rankers was that you could always count on everyone hearing your banter, so why not make it a group thing? “The name’s Solomon Blaske. Blaske to most, Solomon to some and Good Boy to a special, select few! The job offer is yours too. Same benefits as the trap-person. Sex is optional, but freely offered! I bet that you’re great at chok-”

Blaske’s most honest offer was interrupted by the woman spiking Franz’s aura hard enough for her to catch him in her telekinetic grip for a short moment and throw the man in the burning armor straight at Blaske. Seeing his old friend-turned-projectile, Blaske took it that she needed some time to think about it. And besides, Strike of Impending Doom - one of Blaske’s favorite powers and the inspiration for the name of their little band - had just reached the next tier after having gathered enough charges over time.

“Nothing like killing two birds with one spell,” he thought to himself when he activated the special attack. Power coursed through him, even greater than the last time he activated it, and he shot forward while his Nihil expanded for some nice additional devouring effect.

Strike of Impending Doom was surprisingly simple. When Blaske started fighting, he began accumulating a boon over time. Said boon did not in itself boost Blaske’s capabilities, but was rather something akin to a counter. When he activated the special attack, Blaske received a short-lived burst to all of his capabilities and its power. And as the boon didn’t decay, but rather just kept growing as long as Blaske continued to fight, every use of the attack was stronger and more sudden than the last; a growing, impending doom further bolstered by the fact that his other powers were excellent at adding to boons already stacking up.

His sudden burst of motion took him out of the way of the projectile that was Franz. Blaske grinned as he felt his Nihil devouring both the magic and fabric of the cloth as well as that sweet, sweet life force confirming his hit. Feeding mana into the orb, it pulled on everything nearby, keeping in deadly contact with the man for two additional seconds before he managed to break free once more, most of his right arm and parts of his torso missing as he staggered back..

“A bit much to chew in just one bite?” Blaske asked his Nihil, the insentient orb unresponsive as usual. “Well, open wide then.”

Preparing a special attack from his growth essence, Blaske sent the Nihil in another arcing swing. Each moment the orb traveled, it grew, going from its original size close to that of a head to around two meters in diameter when only halfway through the swing. Its passage devoured part of the street below it as well as any attacks it happened to come into contact with. Blaske saw an odd kind of ripple appear in the air, and it felt odd as it was swallowed. Through his connection to his essence power, he could feel the Nihil fuzz a bit deep inside. Not enough to destabilize the power, but it was apparently something that the ever-hungry hole did not find to its liking.

“Well, that’s a first,” Blaske thought, but his inner monologue was interrupted by a short spell-chant.

“Ward!”

A pair of semi-translucent barriers appeared to block the hungry orb, one breaking almost immediately but the second one holding firm. Curious as to this new development, Blaske activated another of his special attacks, making his Nihil pulse with disrupting force. Unsurprisingly, that did the trick, but the surprise-barriers had bought cloth-guy enough time to find his balance, sending out wickedly sharp cloth streamers - some stinging cuts along Blaske’s body making him very aware of the fact - while pulling himself backwards and out of the way of the dark orb’s trajectory.

Sensing another, more subtle incoming attack, Blaske chose to abort his strike and leap backwards. He did so just in time to see another ripple in the air in front of him, giving the impression of a slash. Thinking he was in the clear he landed on the cobbles only to sense another incoming attack, and this time even his silver-ranked reflexes were too slow. It raked across his armor and he felt a twinge of pain where it cut through, followed by a brief flash of immobility as his meridians were shocked, mana leaving him like blood gushing from a wound. But the most fascinating thing was one of his boons; a stacking, regeneration due to his magical consumption, was shattered in a burst of disruptive force damage.

“This sensation… This was new,” Blaske thought, his mind finally connecting the dots; the spell-chant from before had come from above. As if to answer his unspoken question, a younger man fell from the sky, landing in a crouch as the cobbled street cracked and buckled beneath him. His face was dominated by glowing lines, framed by strands of dark hair which had come loose from the topknot on his head. As the new arrival took in the situation, Blaske got a feel of his aura; firm, resolute and alert. He was younger than Blaske, that was for certain, and hadn’t come as far into silver yet either. But the sensation his attacks had left in Blaske’s Nihil, and what had happened within him just now… Those were refreshingly novel.

“Well, it would seem like I need to ask for another referral today. Those tattoos look amazing!” Blaske called out, trying to get a better read of what he assumed to be his newest opponent as his Nihil rotated around him in a defensive circle. The moment of relative stillness within the carnage raging around gave the situation a most splendid dramatic flair, and Blaske would be remiss not to grasp at it.

The young man seemed a bit taken aback by Blaske’s smile and tone even though his ready stance did not shift. “Thank… you?” he asked, apparently still surveying the ongoing fight.

“He’s a talker. Never shuts up, actually,” cloth-guy grumbled from where he was wrapping up his injuries in more enchanted fabric - how much did the guy have? - which in turn gave off the gentle glow of healing. He even constructed a temporary lower arm and hand from the fabric, even if the latter might be closer to a set of claws. “Did you see Sztyka?”

“Glint is taking her to the fall-back.”

“Good.”

“Teacher, you should head there too.”

There was a moment of consideration as something seemed to pass between the men, cloth-guy surveying the situation. “No. But I’ll go relieve Steiner. You handle this lunatic.”

As cloth-guy started pulling back and circle around to where the telekineticist was being hounded by two of the mercenaries, Blaske felt that it was his time to step in. While he enjoyed the drama as much - or probably more - as the next guy, he also really wanted to keep the newfound number’s advantage in their little part of the fight.

“As much as I would enjoy the little student-teacher swap you have got going on here, it’s just too-”

“Dissolve the patterns of power!”

Blaske had just started to ready another of his blitzes to further injure and maybe even drive off the pesky cloth-guy, but the newcomer seemed to have been ready. An invisible ripple burst from the younger man, and while it partially swayed and distorted as Blaske’s Nihil devoured part of its odd tingling energies, the almost invisible wave held firm enough to wash over Blaske as well. And three more of his boons winked out, his doom counter included.

What was supposed to be a spectacular burst of motion was suddenly turned into just a dash from a normal silver-ranker. Compared to, say, an iron-ranker, this was still very, very fast. But the younger, now very interesting man was a silver-ranker too, and reacted accordingly. Blaske’s faltering dash was turned into a roll followed by a springing attack as he shifted target, cloth-guy now out of his immediate reach. His Nihil impacted with a staff made from odd metal that the younger man plucked out of nowhere, and the artifact actually held completely firm upon the contact with the dark orb, even chiming with a pleasant melodiousness as the void of Blaske’s conjuration ground against it.

At the same time, a mass dark of symbols which had previously hovered steadily behind the man’s back shifted and lit up, nailing Blaske’s planted foot with a thin beam of resonating light which made a neat hole through armor and flesh both.

“Well tie me to Lust’s table and call me a bad boy! A familiar. And a void one, too!” Blaske called, ignoring the thrilling pain of his foot as he swept his Nihil in an arc which then burst outward, creating some space for him to step back. The tingly powers, the tattoos, the apparent void powers… Blaske knew that he should think more rationally about this all. He really did. But the young man was just so refreshing. He just had to get a better taste. Surely Franz should be able to handle an injured cloth-guy.

“It seems that we have a bit in common,” Blaske continued, his boons starting to reapply as his smile widened. “As you probably missed my little introduction, I’ll just go ahead and repeat myself; Solomon Blaske, at your service. Not often at all I meet someone else with the void essence. We just have to compare notes.”

Inwardly vowing to remove all stops, Blaske charged the newcomer again. This was going to be… exciting. He just knew it.

Kite was conflicted. On the one hand, he was glad that Amica got some assistance. From the look of things as he descended, she was holding on through her wide proficiency in disruptive destruction, but found few opportunities to properly counterattack. On the other hand though, this left Kite facing down an older, more experienced silver-ranker. And a rather odd one at that.

“Ward!”

Kite was glad that the barriers of Heaven-and-Void Warding were so readily available, because once the smiling Solomon Blaske had started to get their measure, each and every impact of the floating dark orb that was his weapon broke through at least one and often both discs. As he soon found himself gradually backing down the streets as the fighting pressed in on the adventurer’s impromptu holdfast from all sides, Kite also knew that there was no holding back. Ryker wouldn’t have gone off if he didn’t believe that Kite could hold on, and they were all aware of what they were waiting for.

Under the assault of what had turned out to be the leader of the mercenary group called Doomstrike, Kite used every ounce of his focus to predict and hold his foe at bay. How did he know the name of said group or the man’s position? The man had told him.

“-and it's just really hard to find good help these days. Maybe I should just start an orphanage or something to ensure future recruitment? Well, not that I like kids that much, but I hear that they grow on you. Get it? Grow on you?”

But even through the man’s constant bantering, the fighting was intense, especially since the dark orb of his foe seemed to be able to swallow almost anything, even Kite’s dispelling attacks. He hoped that it had some limit to what it could contain, but the thing hadn’t given any indication of it so far.

“No point in delaying, I guess. We seem to need a little bit longer,” Kite thought to himself, and started channeling more mana into his mantle. The visible metallic tattoos lit up even further, the arms appearing in a blur of attacks projected towards the smiling Solomon, who had to shift his stance to deal with the sudden increase in frequency. Even so, the two attacks carrying Disrupting Strike and Chakra Implosion hit him, just as Kite blocked the dark orb again. It felt like Pattern-Shattering Counter did something, even if the orb itself seemed unaffected.

During the brief stun delivered into his foe, Kite also managed to land a third hit with Void-Sunders-Firmament, carving up part of Solomon’s right leg before he could swing his weapon in defense.

“Whoa, whoa! What? Where did the arms come from? The tattoos? No way! That’s even better!” the man called through what must have been at least a somewhat agonizing experience. “I can just imagine the possibilities. I mean, how popular mustn’t you be with the ladies out there. And-or fellows? Trust, me I don’t judge. One should be open to all the world has to offer!”

With his mantle active, Kite’s slow retreat eventually turned to a standstill. It was obvious that Solomon had an advantage in attributes, and while Kite couldn’t suppress them like Soul’s magically enhanced ones, he still thanked Fortune for his time spent with the battle-mad celestine as it let him keep up better than he expected. But speaking of suppression, Kite did have an idea on what to use it on.

Trying to create an opening with one of the known locations of a rune trap, Kite was just preparing a feint to try and cause the other man to sidestep when Solomon sent his dark orb out to the side in a wide swing which plowed through the trapped wall, devouring the yet inactive essence power.

“Your trapper is good, don’t get me wrong, but my little friend here has quite the nose for lingering magic,” the mercenary said with a proud smile while twirling the dark orb once between attacks. Kite suspected that the rambling would continue, and was therefore taken aback when the man suddenly surged with power and speed. Kite tried to shatter whatever special attack Solomon used, but to his dismay, found that the burst of movement had simply been too quick and delivered at the right moment as the dark orb impacted his chest. The void sphere ate through his breastplate in short order before Kite could flick a projected attack toward it and at least dispel the empowering special attack so as to not get his chest thoroughly chewed through. Blood flowed freely but was instantly devoured by the dark orb, but Kite managed a quick step back. The defensive aspects of Unyielding had further reduced the damage, but he was thankful for Sage’s versatility as the astral gatherer used a charge to have some healing course through Kite.

Solomon stepped back as well, but for a different reason. Because even through the pain, Kite had managed to flick an attack towards his foe using a certain, unseen blade.

“Hey, now wait a moment. Did you just get rid of my Devourer power? The passive power?” Solomon said, looking more astonished than mad. “I don’t know how long it has been since I didn’t feel at least a bit hungry to devour things. My insides feel all hazy, too.”

He looked up at Kite, gaze intense. “You know, the job offer truly extends to you too. Don’t make us kill you. Join the fun instead. Your powers are odd - bonus points for originality - and if you’re willing to put those arms of yours to good work, I’m sure you’ll be an excellent boost to morale for the people who catch your fancy. What do you say? It’s better than dying here on some rock in the middle of nowhere for an adventure society that doesn’t really care about you.”

“Courtesy demands that I at least thank senior for the offer. However, I don’t believe that I would be a good fit for the kind of life you seem to be living,” Kite retorted as the pair clashed again. He sported a few injuries, the one in his chest being the most severe, but he knew from the amount of hits that his foe shouldn’t be faring too well either. So he tried to lean into master Zarth-an’s teachings again as he thought, aiming for directness and simplicity in their exchanges. Because thanks to the suppressive mode of Disrupting Strike, his foe shouldn’t recover as much. Or that was at least what he hoped.

“Ooo, polite too. I have some friends who would love you. But seriously though, do the smart thing. Because even without Devour, I can do this all day. I might even get reinforcements should the need arise. Going for the dimensional web was a good plan, but way too predictable. And we have enough people to go back should our sentries over there spot some trouble. So just think some more about it? We have some more time to kill.”

Seeing a flicker of movement in a window further down the street behind him while Solomon spoke caused a spark of hope to blossom in Kite’s chest, soon rising into a smoldering sense of success as he then felt the signaling crystal which hung on a loop around his neck start to vibrate.

“While I hate to disappoint, in this case it seems that I must leave senior wanting,” Kite said, preparing to act after what came next. “And in regards to time-” he began, just as the tumultuous mana in the area suddenly shuddered as a wave of power was unleashed from further back among the houses surrounding the old mill. The mana suddenly felt rigid and dense, the sensation further driven home when a glowing barrier covered in swirling lines suddenly covered the whole city block.

“-we would appreciate some more of yours as well,” Kite finished.

To his credit, Solomon seemed to be able to discern the purpose of the barrier almost instantly as he called out to his teammate. “Franz, is this what I think it is?”

“Ritual. Localized dimensional lock and containment field. Don’t count on any teleporting, short-range or otherwise!” the man in the flaming armor called back from where he and Ryker were squaring off. His words were confirmed as Kite saw one of the flying enemy core-users attempt to teleport out of the way of an incoming spear of lightning in the last second, looking mighty surprised when the power failed.

“Smash or wait?”

“Smash should work. Rituals like these need a lot of power fed into them, and they shouldn’t have been here long enough to make a stable array.”

“Great! That’s my favorite option!” Solomon called back, disengaging from Kite even through his most valiant attempts at keeping the man pinned. “It seems that I made the classic mistake of assuming things would go my way. I’m sorry to cut this little dance of ours short, but I have a ritual to devour. Good fight though. Top grade, would battle again. And think about my offer!” he called with a cheeky grin before suddenly shooting off straight to the side, dark sphere extended in front of him to drill through the intervening house with contemptuous ease.

“Curses!” Kite swore at his opponent's easy sortie, turning to run back toward the ritual site at the old mill. He didn’t even try to call out to his nearby allies, knowing that they would have heard. Kite knew that they needed to delay Solomon and any of his allies who had caught on just a bit longer, and moved back at full speed to try and intercept.

“May the heavens watch over the other stealth team, and may they prove to be as good as Jane claimed that they are.”

Kurtz was bored. Frustrated and bored. The golden-furred leonid was currently leaning back in a chair up at the rubble that remained of the house atop the dimensional net. It was a surprisingly comfy chair too, the only surviving one after someone - probably Franz - had gone to town on the poor facade that was the building.

“Get a grip Kurtz. Anyone with aura-senses within a block can feel your frustration. Go patrol or something.” Anya complained from where she sat atop a fallen roof support sticking out of the rubble. Their third companion, one of the core-using thugs hired by that Ludvilla-lady, kept watch outside, avoiding the mercenaries in a not-so-subtle manner.

“And leave the only chair to you? I’m not stupid, Anya,” Kurz growled at the celestine.

“And yet the boss left you here to ‘recover’ after your last little outing. It means that you probably did something stupid at least.”

“Hey, how are eight bloody elites popping out of nowhere my fault? And besides, you’re here too.”

“To teleport us in there if the boss calls for us. I’m a tactical reserve. You’re just put on timeout,” Anya countered, her cyan ponytail flicking about as she turned her head up at him.”

“Speaking of, I almost hope that he will. I wanna be over there. Get some revenge.”

“You’re just mad that Staniel died before paying you back-.”

“He lost big, Anya.”

“- and that you never got Suri drunk enough to get in bed with you.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Anya eventually added. “Sorry, Kurtz, that was too far.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s true. But still-”

Whatever Kurtz was about to say was interrupted by a ripple in the mana felt all the way across the city as a barrier expanded to cover the whole block where the Doomstrike and their local ‘allies’ were supposedly fighting. Both Anya and Kurtz immediately became alert, their sharp senses trained upon the new development like hawks waiting to strike as the professionals in them awoke from their banter-induced torpor.

“That’s not one of ours?” Kurtz said, even if his words were already more statement than question.

“No, it isn’t,” Anya agreed, rising to stand on the fallen support to get a better view. “We need to get ready, in case that the signal is sent. You there, what’s your face! Get over here,” she called to the core-user. “Our wait might soon be over.”

Kurtz aimed to follow Anya’s lead in rising and getting ready, but when he tried to shift his balance and get up, he couldn’t.

“What the-”

It was as if his body was glued to the piece of furniture. His instincts screaming of trouble, Kurtz had just started conjuring his blades chains when the upper rims of the chair’s armrests and backrest grew long, sharp teeth. In but a moment, the thing had grown enough for the angle to be just right before the whole chair bit inwards.

“The waiting is indeed done,” a smooth voice said from beneath where Anya stood.

To her credit, the celestine leapt upward and was just about to pivot and fire a spell downwards when the log that Kurtz had assumed was a fallen rafter shifted and warped. Spiked tentacles shot up from the smooth wood, wrapping around or piercing through her wrists and ankles before slamming her back into the ground. Most of the log warped into the shape of an elven man clad in a tight-fitting armor which seemed to be shifting mess of colors and textures.

Kurtz was only half-noticing the development as he fought to free himself from the chewing maw which seemed to only be growing more teeth as it bit down again and again. The core-user was storming in towards him, but any hope he had of assistance was cleanly severed as the woman shifted in appearance and height, her aura equally empowering and filling out as she conjured some kind of sickle on a chain which she sent towards Kurz in a blitzing arc. To add insult to injury, the attack was what drove Kurtz back into the maw of whatever thing that was still chewing on him.

“Shit. We need to-” he thought, roaring for a last burst of strength as his arm had trouble moving. The roar sent the core-user-turned-shapeshifter flying back, and Kurtz just managed to get a grip on the crystal in his pocket, sending mana into it before his spasming hands accidentally crushed the brittle thing. But as he saw the magical flare shoot into the air above, Kurtz at least knew that the signal had been sent. Now he just needed to-

Pain coursed through his right side as the sickle cut across his left arms, then at his right while covered in some kind of acid which ate through both armor and flesh. Kurz did everything he could, but when the same raking slash cut across his eyes and blinded him, his world devolved into darkness, struggling and pain.

“Good mimic,” Ai said, giving the still munching chair a gentle pat on its frame, before turning to her team leader, Simi. “We stick to the plan?”

“We do,” Simi agreed, the elf’s tone neutral, smooth and focused even as he used his own particular brand of more grotesque shapeshifting to dismember the celestine mercenary with the help of Teng, their last team member. As soon as the barrier had gone up in the distance, the smolder’s form had emerged from the stone she had been posing as, and the woman was currently stabbing down towards the struggling celestine with hands like stone spikes, ruthless and efficient.

“We can finish up here, Teng. Go and begin your work.”

At the elf’s words, the smolder nodded and ceased her assault, ignoring the blood splattering her as she slid across the ground, her feet and lower legs reshaping into a mass of rolling stones which carried her forward and down the stone tunnel.

“I will still say, Sir, that it’s an honor working with you. Simi the Patient One is rightfully feared among the scum of the world,” Ai said with a respectful nod. When she had been assigned to a team where everyone else also had varied powers of shapeshifting, she had been optimistic of their prospects. And when she learned that said team was led by the infamous Patient One, her excitement had only grown. “Seeing you masked for over two hours, an enemy seated atop you for most of that time without even an ounce of clues to your presence, spiritual or mundane… It’s inspiring.”

“Thank you, Ai. But I will have to admit that two hours was nothing. As long as we get out of here, I’ll tell you all about my week spent impersonating the cloak of a pirate captain over in the Boiling Strait. You have been an excellent addition to the team as well. And being nice to my dear Charade here always tends to put people in my good graces,” the elf said, indicating the mimic familiar which was still chewing away, even though the leonid’s struggles had almost ceased. “Now it remains to be seen if Teng can do what we came for before enough enemies can double back to us. Our dear colleagues in the tunneling teams will need all the strength they can muster. If you’ll please hide yourself again, that would be splendid. I will follow suit as soon as I have disposed of the corpses.”

“Th-thank you, Sir. Of course, sir,” Ai said, turning back towards the door and assuming the form of another silver-ranked thug, along with a pose of hesitance as she looked in towards the building. Hopefully, anyone arriving would only see a core-user hesitating to go in and investigate alone. It might earn her a scolding, but that was irrelevant.

“They can’t be worse than my ex in that regard. Gods, did he have his mind made up,” Ai thought as she once more assumed the waiting-game, only occasionally glancing off towards the unfolding cataclysm within the barrier off in the distance.