Rising Kite - A story from the world of HWFWM

“Any last words for the heavens to witness, Lark Above the Clouds?” grand elder White asked, the seared landscape around them still smoldering with the remnants of green flames.

He stood on the ashen ground, his opponent hanging suspended in front of him, utterly broken. Grand elder Lark was missing his right arm as well as right leg below the knee. What more that remained of him was slowly constricted by the writhing chains which bound him almost from head to toe, the occasional reddish-purple pulse flashing across them which was followed by a grunt of pain.

“You have fought well, after all. And such words deserve to be heard.” White continued as his broken foe did not speak. He was not without blemishes either. A lot of his gray, armored robes were singed to ash, leaving his ritually scarred torso bare in many places, while the left half of his face was still recovering from both impacts and severe burns. But unlike the defeated man, White showed no sign of discomfort. This was but pain of the flesh after all, a sweet reminder of life and purpose.

“I…” grand elder Lark began, word slurring from a broken jaw. “I have many regrets in this life, but the heavens will know that opposing your sect was never one of them. Even as I fall, your demise is already written in the stars.” The man finished, still having a glint of defiance in his eyes even though his body was no longer his to control.

White took it in with a nod. “The heavens have heard your words. Had this been another day, we would have continued this conversation under different circumstances, but time is not our greatest luxury at the moment. Thank you, for tempering my path.” he finished, tone as neutral and flat as it had been throughout their whole exchange. Then, small spikes grew from the chains, and with a rattling sound all the chains were retracted fast enough that their individual links became a blur even to White’s eyes. In but a second, the remains of grand elder Lark fell to the ground, but a pile of bloody chunks. White couldn’t help wondering what gold rank would have in store for the executing ability, the massive resilience of the rank feeling like a mere myth. A myth he aimed to become.

His former foe forgotten as a bloody pile of flesh and pieces of armor, he turned back toward their camp and started moving, using only his personal strength to allow his mana to recover. The fight with the grand elder had taken them further away than he had initially planned, and it took a few minutes to make his way back toward their ritual circle. White felt a bit of concern as he did not feel any silver-ranked clashes close to his destination. But he did feel another aura he recognized.

With only a slight diversion through the dense woodlands and over wrecked parts of forest, he appeared in front of his daughter who was already kneeling as he had allowed her to sense his aura while approaching.

“Report.” he stated, towering above her, gaze as firm and unflinching as ever. Having come closer, he could still feel the clashes of silver-rankers in the distance and other weaker groups moving and battling in the woodlands.

“Father, I…” River began, then swallowed. “My group was driven back and I was forced to go back for reinforcements.”

“The sects?”

“No, father. Outcasts. The same ones that got away the last time.” River added, wisely holding nothing back. She knew White would detect any lie in her aura.

“And the battle as a whole?” he asked, tone still as monotone as ever.

“The reports are scattered. The other paths have not reported as they should, not according to the protocols put in place. But from what I collected, it does not go in our favor. Collector of Animas has fled, and the adventurers are in the process of breaking down the defenses of the grand circle. If they do it before the ritual for the new batch of wraiths is finished…” she trailed off, the implications clear.

“And the other grand elders and silver-rankers?”

“Unaccounted for, but several battles are still going on.

“Then I have a task for you, progeny.” White said as he started to continue walking back towards their camp, his daughter scrambling to keep up, her thralls lagging behind. “I sanction the use of the portal-thrall. You will go back to our sect and beg the sect leader to assist us, then return.”

“Father?” she asked, looking up at him in surprise. “Would she- how do we know she-” River began, but quickly fell silent again as a spike of his aura pushed into hers, almost causing her to topple over.

“The sect leader told me that we would test our strength, but that she would intervene in the moment she deemed correct. Inform her of the situation, then return.”

He could sense doubt and hesitation churning through his progeny’s aura, but she wisely kept it to herself and did not protest again.

“Then I shall do as you ask father.” River said, bowing low even though she was shaking slightly from his painful aura spike.

“I expect no less. I will intervene with the deputy director. When you return, go back to your other objectives and bring as many of the reserve thralls as you deem necessary.” grand elder White finished, dashing off before River could respond again.

There was a duel he needed to finish with a certain leonid.

“-and they were acting odd and erratic?” branch director Jarvan LanCaire asked Adelaide, walking at a pace which the iron-ranked elf could keep up with.

The pair were currently making their way through the corridors of the adventure society administration building, Adelaide continuing to brief Jarvan even as they walked.

“Yes, branch director. Aggressive as well. When one of the guards got a bit… twitchy… with his essence-powers, it was like a drop of mana finishing a faulty formation.

“It blew up?”

“Metaphorically, at least. The guard sergeant was wise enough to contain them and pull back for reinforcements, but reports are indicating that this isn’t an isolated incident. It has happened in multiple places all over the city.”

“How goes the containment? Not too well I assume, otherwise the city lord would not have sent the emergency contract?” Jarvan asked, pushing open the doors that led outside. From atop their spire, the city looked calm at a glance, but Jarvan’s silver-ranked perception let him pick out scattered spots where there seemed to be more people in motion.

“Indeed. We are scrambling what adventurers remain in the city to assist the city guards, but with most of the capable ones off to fight the fallen sect…” Adelaide finished, letting Jarvan come to the obvious conclusion.

“It sounds like this is under control then. From what you have described, those we have should be enough to get a handle on it. I’m more curious as to what is causing this. Maybe-”

Jarvan was interrupted by a building below going up in a ball of flame, the sound of the explosion reaching them shortly thereafter.

“It was in the trade district. Alchemy lab? Either way, that’s my cue. Hold down the fort, Adelaide!”

“But director, I’m not authorized to-” the green-haired elf began in protest, but it was too late.

Jarvan had already sprinted across the plaza and leapt off the side of the cliff, a huge floating silvery gauntlet with a blue sheen materializing to carry him down towards the city on its palm.

Adelaide sighed, looking down at the retreating figure and the city below. This would mean trouble. She was sure of it.

“So, can you bring it down? Or should we force the issue?” Rupert asked Braid where they stood before a defensive array, behind which they suspected that the grand summoning circle was located. The bronze-ranker had been nearby along with his group, ready to be called to assist with any such defenses should Rupert be able to dispatch higher-ranked defenders.

The trio of enhanced specters had indeed been troublesome, but thanks to the disrupting bell and his expertise, Rupert had been able to dispatch them in short order. Not fast enough to give chase to the priestess had he intended to do so, but he was still rather pleased. What had been disturbing with the trio was their level of competence, almost sentience. While they had no souls, their motive spirits were way more sophisticated than others of similar rank. But Rupert filed it away for later discussion, preferable with Death’s clergy, and turned back to the matter at hand.

“This is a proper array, deputy director, not just formations put up next to each other. I think we will need both approaches.” the cloth-wrapped man said. One could easily imagine his eyes flickering over the surface of the opaque, shimmering barrier. “Whatever they are up to in there, be it more of the silver-ranked wraiths or something worse, we need to get in there. After all, the key to any ritual, together with the right resources, is the time to get it right.”

“Then tell me when and where you want a less gentle touch.” Rupert responded.

“Actually, as soon and as continual as possible, director. From what I can see, there should be no active defensive measures, and putting strain on the array should allow me to better see the structure.”

“Then we shall begin at once. I-” Rupert began, but stopped as he detected a silver rank aura at the edge of his perception range. Then another. A moment of dread tingled along the leonid’s spine before settling only slightly as he identified both auras. And as one of them belonged to his former, chain-wielding opponent, the implications were rather bleak for the fate of grand elder Lark.

The white-haired human man, robes and armor now partially burnt and ruined, was heralded by a score of thick chains shooting out from between the trees, all of them aiming for Rupert who had stepped in front of the bronze-ranked Braid. Once more, fast, controlled flurries of claw-strikes deflected and tore through the assault of fetters, but having someone to protect did force the leonid to remain on the defensive.

“Deputy director, we have a clash to conclude.” grand elder White said as he emerged from between the trees, his voice the same flat monotone even as he launched more attacks toward Rupert.

“His attacks aren’t even spells as there are no chants.” Rupert thought as he continued his defense. “Is it some kind of domain of his?” Throughout their earlier fight, his opponent had just continued to conjure new chains from himself or the environment, delivering his special attacks through multiple vectors.

“But it does seem like we will not remain undisturbed this time either.” the man continued, turning his head to the side, looking to the south where a layer of rime was beginning to form, gradually spreading across the trunks and branches of nearby trees, leaving the red leaves covered in a thin shimmering coating.

“It sounds like I am unwelcome? A bit rude, don’t you think? And from your tone, it is almost as if you had already sensed me coming..” a chilly voice echoed throughout the clearing, belonging to a pale, silver-haired human woman, blue lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Frost among Morning Dew looked quite hale, although there were splatters of frozen blood across her light blue robes, the clothing cinched tighter around her torso to increase mobility while still leaving the long, wide sleeves she had always favored for as long as Rupert had known her. Dew was one of the silver-rankers whose beauty has grown even more distinct during her climb through the ranks, her fine features heightened to an almost supernatural beauty.

“Lord Pain’s ministrations has heightened my senses beyond the rest of you, too weak of will to go through what is needed to truly temper yourselves,” grand elder White answered, turning slightly to take in both of his opponents. “And those senses tell me that you are too weak to face me. I would recommend that you leave and seek other foes, outcast.”

“From the scars on your chest, I am not sure if strong of will is not the only attribute I would assign you. Torturing souls like that is never without risk, and undergoing such procedures tell me a lot about you.”

“No path to the heavens are free of peril. But with the blessed knowledge of my lord, the process has given me much. And from your deputy director, I will learn more.”

“From where I stand, the deputy director looks to have other matters on his mind. If he does not mind, I will be your next opponent.” mistress Dew stated as she walked closer.

“I do indeed have other matters to attend to. But Dew, be cautious. Grand elder Lark did not return after fighting this man.” Rupert responded, still taking a defensive stance in case their foe would resume his attacks, which had ceased when Dew had made her appearance.

“The grand elder fought well, but inevitably became a stepping stone for my path. And as it seems ours will clash as well, I inform you that I am Unmaker of the White Seal, grand elder of the Unbreakable Chains sect.” His stance was arrogant and confident, and it was clear that his true goal was to stop the deputy director and considered Dew to be just a small nuisance. “Without the discipline and visions of a sect, your path will inevitably become scattered and weak. I will show you the folly of your path.”

“And my name is Frost among Morning Dew. And I will inform you, grand elder, that there is a lot you don’t know about me. But I will freely share this with you; I have just slain one of your grand elders, the naked one. And I have fought grand elder Lark to a standstill. While holding back.” she finished, a slight tug at the edge of her blue lips. Then, frost creeping up her robes, she was upon the enemy grand elder.

From where Rupert observed the exchange and subsequent start of the clash, he had seen how the frost had spread around the environment, his magically enhanced hearing catching the slight crackling sound as the small crystals of ice formed on everything in a spreading radius. The second Dew started shifting her weight forward in preparation to sprint towards her foe, the slight crackling rose to a small explosion as suddenly, all around her, the slight layer of frost erupted into a field of ice, as if a thin glacier was forming around her at record speed, continuing to grow outward.

While Rupert felt the chill, it was a bit subdued to him where he stood on the now forming layer of ice, but he had no doubt that the experience would be quite different had he been Dew’s enemy. It was something to behold as the grand elder’s chains started erupting from the ice and converging on her even as Dew’s icy field was spreading. As if they were both imparting their path on the surrounding landscape, the very world. Rupert knew that it was only essence-powers, as much as one could simplify magical abilities, but seeing them clash still left him with a thrilling sensation. This kind of experience was why he remained an adventurer first and foremost.

As Dew, relentlessly attacking her opponent, skillfully started directing the battle away from the ritual site and its barrier, Rupert turned back to Braid. While the younger man had fought alongside Rupert before, the leonid could still feel that he was slightly rattled by the higher-ranked violence, auras and powers crushed against each other.

“Well, Braid. We best not tarry. Where did you want me to apply this more violent approach we were discussing earlier?”

Braid gave him a blank look, his cloth mask conveying the expression surprisingly well, before seeming to snap out of his slight daze.

“Yes. Yes, director. Please, if you could put the barrier under constant strain, that would be most helpful.”

Nodding, Rupert turned to the barrier, once more throwing up the bell which changed his sonic attacks to disrupting force damage, and once more activating his channeled sonic attack which he had used to annihilate the first set of spectral minions of the priestess of Undeath. This time he chose the other mode of the attack, which had become available at bronze-rank, to instead generate a thinner, directed line of channeled sonic destruction.

While Braid didn’t hear anything, the half-meter wide line of bluish ripples in the air had a clear effect on the barrier of the array. It seemed to solidify further where the attack hit, irregular patterns were flickering out over the barrier as a whole. While they didn’t communicate any special meaning to Rupert, Braid seemed to observe them very intently.

What Rupert could notice was other, weaker auras escaping the array on the other side, passing out through the barrier from the opposite side. He assumed them to be weaker cultists or clergy of Undeath, but there had to be a reason that they were evacuating. As he was locked in his efforts to help Braid, Rupert couldn’t just chase them down and had to settle for noting their numbers and direction. As said, there has to be a reason for their flight. While one could hope that they were simply fleeing the metaphorical sinking ship, Rupert’s instincts told him otherwise. And so, he carried on. He had a job to do.

Dew could see why this man was able to bring down grand elder Lark. Even as she wove between chains striking at her from the sides or erupting from the frozen ground, she couldn’t help but feel a bit impressed with the grand elder for reaching and maintaining this level of skill even while essentially living in exile, without the resources or support from society. In another life, he could have been very prominent even in sects closer to the kingdom’s heartlands.

His skill at using his powers to create an oppressive zone of control was significant, as were his special attacks and the debilitating afflictions they threatened to inflict, courtesy of Pain no doubt. But his aura was his most potent weapon in a duel such as this. It was oppressive and domineering, forcing the submission of others and having them become subservient or perish. And from the look of his bare skin, scarred in ritualistic markings, the soul behind that aura bore scars.

Most of his rank would eventually be ground down and exposed to the pain his aura promised, making it another tool of dominance for an already domineering man. But while Dew was definitely on the defensive in this spiritual struggle, she was not to be overwhelmed anytime soon. After all, she had a scar of her own, one that still felt emotionally raw even after all these years.

And as such, she could push him, leveraging her relentless attack to cleave through his domain of chains and not be kept at bay. She was speed and grace, biting cold and piercing frost. She was the inevitable winter, and rarely had her path been strained so as she fought.

A frozen sword split a dozen approaching chains, transitioning into a glaive on the backswing to dispatch a flanking tangle of metal links which meant to strike her down. Even so, another chain had managed to wrap around her right leg, delivering its debilitating touch but being severed before it could yank her off balance.

Dew’s relentless pace forced the grand elder to continue retreating in order to maintain distance, continually pushing the fight further and further away from the ritual site.

“That should give the deputy director some distance.” Dew thought even as shards of ice flew around her like a glittering halo where her blades sometimes broke under the duress of assaulting links. “Time to change up the pace a bit.”

“Shining molt of spring”

Over the course of almost an instant, Dew was completely frozen in a thin shell of ice. But instead of the normally bluish clear ice, this ice looked dirty and mottled, with purplish red strains passing through it. Her next motion had the layer shatter, shedding the afflictions which had been stacking up to slightly hamper her movement. It was a potent self-cleanse, readily available but limited to targeting herself. For the loner that she usually was, that barely felt like a downside. After all, it would be her own strength that would carry her path southward in the future. While the few bonds she had forged felt nicer than she thought they would, such as a certain diligent and earnest young student, Dew had long since known that her retribution would be dealt through her own path.

As her frozen domain spread, the grand elder’s speed was decreasing even though he seemed more resistant to the stacking affliction than only his rank would indicate. Activating one of her mobility powers, Dew disappeared in a flurry of snowflakes only to emerge in a cascade of snow and ice shards from the frozen ground, dual blades already striking out against the interposing chains and aiming for the man who was as their center.

Even though she sheared through the defensive chain, her prey remained elusive. Her right blade was only a few centimeters away from his chest when another chain reached in and yanked the grand elder out of the way of the attack, the motion blindingly quick while allowing him to keep up the barrage from the conjured fetters. Dew was not deterred however, following him in a series of dashes and disengages, getting ever closer even as their battle froze and shattered the surrounding forest where the chains scythed down frozen trees as if they were but stalks of grass.

Apparently feeling that this approach would not continue favoring him, grand elder White was the one who changed up the pace this time around. From mostly having remained in his regal, straight-backed pose, moving mostly with the aid of his chains, he sunk into a combat stance with his left hand held out in front of him while the right was held more loosely at his side, hidden by his robes. The chains around him changed as well, braiding themselves together into thicker strands, swaying in synchronization with White’s movements.

Dew had to halt her relentless pursuit as the grand elder counterattacked, the chain-tentacles no longer easily shorn through by her blades as they attacked even as Dew now had to contend with the devious finger-strikes of the man as well, aiming for pressure points along her body.

“I gave you too little credit, Frost among Morning Dew. There are apparently depths to your path not easily read through your aura, not even by me. It has been a long time since I was forced to take such a personal approach. I do not think that your foundation was laid down in this backwater.” White stated after several exchanges as they both stepped back for but a moment.

“And I will recognize the strength of your path, grand elder, especially under the circumstances in which you have tempered it. As for my foundation, let us just say that I was not always an outcast.” Dew replied before the sharp intent of her combat meditation once more filled her gaze, and the dance of death began anew.

“Let the song of thine soul purge the disharmony.”

Kite relaxed as the painful shredding feeling in his veins vanished under the soothing vibrations of Serene’s cleansing spell, even though his face was still partially covered in crimson where he had bled from eyes, ears and mouth. Having taken part in taking down another of the smaller summoning circles, one of the bronze-ranked blood cultists had taken offense at Kite’s dispelling wave causing his three summons to vanish, and had laced him with a very destructive blood affliction before uncle Walker had been able to engage and take him down.

“Thank you Serene. Your songs are beautiful and soothing, as always” Kite rasped gratefully even while she cast other healing spells to aid in his recovery. “Afflictions remain as one of the banes of my path for now.”

Fortunately for Kite, he had yet to duel a warrior relying on afflictions, as his only defense against them at the moment was his aura, the erosive effect shortening their duration. This was yet another reason to be thankful for his friends and their companionship, but Kite also vowed to see what he could do to shore up that weakness on bronze-rank. While he always trusted Serene to help him, there would undoubtedly be many moments where she was not nearby or otherwise unavailable.

Another fortunate occurrence was that Sage’s presence had caused a blood essence to materialize in the clearing, joining the other two essences, plant and bone, and the four awakening stones that had similarly been nudged into existence

The celestine had just finished casting a healing spell when she halted, looking to the south. Before she could voice what concern she felt, uncle Walker appeared after having taken one of his many sweeps of their perimeter.

“We need to move!” he half-shouted to get the group's attention. “There is a pair of silver-rankers battling, moving in this direction. From what I could glean, the fight seems to be intense and I am not sure how much they will be able to curtail their moves. Or want to, in the case of our enemy. We do not want to become either collateral damage or a liability for our side.”

Even as they rose to move, all of them could feel the projected auras of the clashing pair. One felt calm and resonating while the other felt like the smell of blood and sound of writhing flesh. Kite had always marveled about the special sensations of auras since his own aura-sense awakened, but this last one felt unclean and uncomfortable. And it continued to draw closer.

“They’re heading our way. We need to-” Walker began, running alongside the group, before he was interrupted as the world shifted around them.

Faster than Kite could follow, a tangle of red, pulsating veins had spread through the air all around them, their movements like worms burrowing through the air as they split and spread. Had it not been for uncle Walker and Grim stepping up behind the iron-rankers and barely managing to destroy some of the veins, it was probable that the younglings would have been injured or maybe even dead. Razor sharp plants and weaving sword strikes along with a storm of shredding glass shards managed to create a gap ensuring their survival, but not without cost.

A couple of the veins had struck Grim, burrowing into his flesh and visibly absorbing his vitality in the short second before Walker managed to sever them with a slash of his sword. This was followed by the veins withering and disappearing, revealing a pale runic man standing not far behind them, his red runes pulsating with a shivering rhythm, his body clearly wounded but regenerating at a visible pace.

“Raw material like you should just accept your fates.” he said while raising his arms again and beginning a similar attack, veins sprouting from his hands, fingers and lower arms and shooting forwards. But this time, something else intervened as well.

“Echo of liberty lost.”

Just as the veins shot towards them, they were forcefully halted and pressed against the ground as a semi-translucent brass bell, covered in symbols radiating the meaning of peace and order and three meters wide at its open bottom, was conjured in the air above the runic man and slammed down around him.

A split second later, Unbroken Typhoon Vigil, the silver-ranked celestine man of the unaffiliated adventurers, appeared next to the bell and struck it hard with a closed fist. The group was almost thrown off their feet by the deep, sonorous resonance which echoed out from the construct, the echoes cracking some of the nearby trees.

“I recommend that you take your leave, lest you become food for this cultist.” the bald celestine said, still smiling serenely as he hit the bell again. The expression was at odds with the situation and his disheveled appearance, but his aura felt steady enough even though he was wounded.

“Listen to the silver-rankers. We move!” Walker said loudly, bending down to help Grim stand, his arm of conjured vines winding around the elf’s arm as he propped him up to continue their retreat. As they left, Kite looked back to see the inside of the grand bell stained red as a mass of something seemed to be pushing from within, with Vigil pounding away at a steady rhythm even while more, smaller bells were manifesting in the air around the small clearing formed by his attacks.

About fifteen seconds later, they heard a spell chant echo throughout the woods.

“Ring out, chorus of the divine carillon!”

Either through fortune or foresight, the group seemed to have come just far enough not to be caught in the effect, even though they could clearly hear more bells add to the resonating tone present, the air itself blurring as Kite could see the destructive warping in the air. Trees, bushes and stones all splintered violently, showering the group in debris in a way that was familiar from their earlier trek throughout the woodlands.

Even as they had barely left one silver-ranked clash behind, Kite could already feel them drawing close to another. The auras here were already weary, both feeling even stronger and more oppressive than those the group had just escaped yet unstable from damage and exhaustion. And Kite recognized one of them.

“We should tread carefully. There are many powerful auras around us. Fortunately, I cannot sense many of the minions here.” Serene said even as she started channeling a healing spell into Grim, whom Walker helped sit down on a rock. While not as durable as the silver-rankers, his bronze-rank constitution had helped him go from almost being carried to carefully walking in minutes.

“Indeed.” Walker said, looking thoughtful. “I might be able to camouflage us here to wait it out a bit, or maybe we could attempt to skirt around one of the- Kite, what are you doing?” The older man stopped his line of thought, instantly disappearing through a nearby bush to drop down from the foliage in front of the young man, who had wandered off from the others and closer to the other silver-ranked clash ahead of them.

“Uncle it is- it is mistress Dew. One of the auras is hers.”

“It does not matter, Kite. You cannot help her.”

“I know uncle, but…” Kite began, then paused to take a breath and steady his resolve. “But I can at least witness her clash. I won’t get close, just up to the ridge.” he said, gesturing up the slight incline toward the top of the slope. If one listened closely, you could even hear the sounds of battle echoing down from beyond.

Walker met Kite’s eyes for a silent moment, and the younger man could feel his uncle’s aura probing his, as if to gauge his resolve. Then Walker sighed.

“You never needed the resolute essence, little Kite. You were already driven enough. Heavens curse me for a fool but- but I’ll accompany you. But only to the ridge, understand me? Your aunties would flay me from the inside and out if they heard about this…” he finished, voice lowering to a mutter as he turned to walk up the hill.

“Thank you uncle.” Kite said, before turning to his companions. “We’ll be right back. But I feel that this is important.”

They were all gazing up at him with different expressions; Serene with her usual calm, probably having read the same from his aura that his uncle did. Dragonfly had a restless mix of curiosity and concern, but still pumped both her fists into the air in a show of support. And Will looked like he understood, giving Kite a stoic nod. In hindsight, Kite should have expected no less. Making choices that made less sense than they just felt right was definitely something Will could get behind.

And so, following his uncle, Kite walked up the slope. To bear witness.