Source Proxy - Act 1: The Holy Lands of the old and future Kings

Laguna - North-end - midnight

On the bridge linking the north and south ends of Laguna, hordes of Fire Wraith bandits and the anti-bandit army are at a stand-off, the other group throwing. Yet, against their urges, the bandits stand still with bated breaths. The same for the anti-bandit army. Between these two groups, the old man refers to himself as Santa. Quite murmurs turn to a jumble of voices like kids in a cafeteria. Both sides are equally confused by the old man’s declaration.

“...You are bandits, the same as I, and yet, all of you wish to turn tail and run?” None of them dare to answer their superior. Santa nods his head, visibly upset with them. “...Pitiful, just pitiful…”

Proxy, who wants to strike the old man going by Santa, keeps his silence, baffled by his sudden address to the Fire Wraith bandits. Wildcard shares the same expression of confusion with Proxy.

“What are you doing?” Wildcard demands, expecting an answer.

“Wildcard, you must understand. As a hunter, you must see this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A chance to find a foe worthy of your skill, strength, even your life…”

Santa is nothing more than a raving lunatic to everyone else, rambling on about a fight they couldn’t care less for, except for the obvious outliers. And nothing can stop him from sounding crazy to everyone but himself.

Santa drifted through life after the war came to an end, chasing the thrill of a fight. But, in an age where war is no more, and all the big players have no reason to fight, he was unable to obtain that excitement. Pillaging villages never pleased him, let alone being a bandit in general. But he went with it nonetheless, simply because he was bored.

He landed himself in BlackRock Prison based on the rumors of its arenas. So, to throw himself in with the worst of the worst, he arrived at the Kingdom and slaughtered several city guards, making it to the king’s castle. From there, he was sentenced to death. He was satisfied for a while, but he eventually got bored. Day-in and out, constantly fighting, winning, fighting, winning, fighting, winning, fighting, winning, fighting and winning… “Is it worth living” he thought. A dark bitterness grew inside him, fostering hatred for those below him.

Now, faced with an unsurmountable enemy, the old man’s raving isn’t meant to convince those around him, or even to get them to see reason, but to convey his overwhelming joy and gratitude towards Cade.

“...Yeah, no, this shit ain’t worth dying for,” Wildcard comes back with a harsh response. “I enjoy a fight, but not if it’s gonna get me killed.”

“I see. Still, it is a battle worth taking part in. So, I ask you all, as bandits: does this not–”

Grey Ocean, fed up with all the grandstanding, shoots up a large ball of water several meters into the air, and with the snap of his fingers, it pops like a balloon. Water rains down on top of everyone, baffled, amazed, and alarmed by his out-of-nowhere display.

“W-was that the signal!?” Proxy yells, almost stammering at the beginning.

“Yep,” Ocean answers, acting casual.

“Why the hell did you send it up now!?”

“I’m givin’ these idiots an ultimatum.” He gently slides his sword back into its sheath. “You dumbasses get two choices: stay here and get murdered, or run away before you get murdered. I know, your brains are hurtin’ tryin’ to figure this out, but make up your damn minds, and fast.”

The risk of Cade getting there before the bandits make a choice is high, but at this point, he knew lighting a fire under their ass was necessary.

“Is that meant to scare me,” Santa asks, showing no fear.

“Can’t you tell, ya old fart?”

Santa might be unfazed by his threat, however, the rest of the bandits are a different story. They’re dreading the incoming monster of an enemy possibly coming their way. Naturally, this building sense of tension and fear pushes them to the breaking point, destroying whatever bravado they have. Bandit or not, it doesn’t matter if you’re dead, they know this.

They begin to flee, pushing, shoving, and pulling at each other to get away faster than the other.

Santa scoffs at their cowardice, not disappointed, but humored at how comical they’re acting. “What a joke…. Regardless, I am staying.”

Ocean rubs his temples and sighs. “Of course, one of you had to be crazy. Whatever, man! Everyone else, better get your ass in gear and move!”

“I refuse.”

Gil stomps past Proxt, going face-to-face with Santa. “...Then I’ll make you leave.”

“Can a coward really say such a thing?”

“I’m not.”

“You ran from me last time we fought. The battle was not over.”

“I know that, and I will bring it to a close. But until then, do as they say and walk away with your life.”

The old man hums to himself, stuck in his thoughts. “...I refuse.”

Gil bashes his head into Santa’s skull without warning. “Then you can die here!”

Proxy separates the two before he can throw a punch. “Come on, now ain’t the time!”

“He’s not going to wait until later!”

“We said we were gonna get these dumbasses out of here, and I meant it. Did you?”

He recoils for a moment, undoing his balled-up fist. Shame creeps up on his face, even looking somewhat embarrassed. Proxy understands his frustration and even wants to let him fight Santa. But they both know it isn’t the time or place to do this.

“You’re right…I’m sorry.”

Proxy lightly taps Gilhart’s chest with his knuckle. “Don’t sweat it, big guy. You’ll get your chance, trust me.”

Gilhart’s undying hatred for Santa did not settle down, even with this cease-fire, but he knows where his priorities lie right now. He gets on the bus with the other army members, focusing on defending them from any sudden moves by the bandits. Gilhart looks back, sparing a confident grin at Proxy and Alexander. They reciprocate.

“I shall stay to fight as well,” Alex declares, unsheathing his sword.

“‘kay, then I’ll get these guys to safety,” Ocean says as he steps back onto the bus. He stops halfway in and looks back at Proxy. “...Proxy, now’s your time to shine. Let’s see if you can back up your bark.” There’s nothing that needs to be said. Anything that can be said is better said with action, Proxy knows that. “Alright, let’s get this bus movin’!”

The bus door closes behind the swordsman. Elizabeth pokes her head out of the driver-side window. “You better come back alive! Gonna be a bummer if y’all end up dead!”

“Obviously! You just worry about yourselves,” Proxy says. “We’ll meet up with you after we pick up the others.”

She gives the young man a thumbs-up while driving off.

“Hm?”

“What is it, Alex?”

“Did sir Garrick leave with the others?”

The question makes Proxy nervous, although he’s unsure of why. Alexander noticed Garrick leaving the bus, but he didn’t pay him any mind.

“Hey, what should we be looking out for?” Wildcard asks, keeping a firm eye on the bridge.

“Cade, duh.”

“I mean what he can do, jackass.”

“A whole bunch of funky shit, and don’t call me a jackass, shithead.”

For two, grueling minutes, they stand their ground, waiting for Cade’s arrival. Proxy’s skin crawls every second that passes; the delicate touch of the wind brushing by gets a knee-jerk reaction out of him.

Alexander’s hand hovers over his blade, ready to draw at a moment's notice. His calm and collected exterior hides his anxiety. The idea of fighting someone capable of wiping out all the bandits in this city is making his blood run cold, but that’s not enough to have him bow out of the fight. Bound to his word, he’ll risk his life in this battle.

Wildcard breathes in and out, filtering out any unnecessary thoughts. “Fear is the enemy of the mind, eliminate doubt and focus on the battle”, a mantra Wildcard repeats in his head when facing a tough opponent. Dangerous predators or human beings, they’re all the same; “an enemy that demands his attention, any less is a surefire way to get yourself killed”, is also what he thinks.

Santa is the only one who doesn’t need to mentally prepare himself. Win or loss, if he dies, then it’ll be a worthy death, and if he wins, then he’ll be satisfied by the battle. Either way, he’s in it for the thrills.

“Do you feel it…the moment before a great battle.” Santa rambles. “...The wind dies down, and the sun and moon leave, only appearing when the victor has been made. A battle only fit for those who find meaning in battle.”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“Tell me about it,” Wildcard grumbles from the corner of his mouth.

“Everyone, stay ready for–”

The ground 10 yards ahead of them explodes. The sound of bricks shattering to pieces and the giant dust cloud in front of them heightens their senses. Someone slowly approaches them, each step more deafening than the last. Draped in a dark robe, Cade shows himself. Goosebumps ran across Everyone’s arms, Santa too, but it wasn’t out of fear. Up close, his unbearable presence becomes suffocating, drowning anyone in its wake.

“Proxy?” Cade, his voice raspy and hoarse, whispers. “...Are you…Proxy?”

Proxy relaxes his stance, slowly moving towards him. “Yeah, I am.” He fights against the overbearing wave of hospitality with each step he takes. “Cade, everything is okay. Puck and Wedge, they’re–”

“DEAD! THEY ARE DEAD!”

”No, they’re alive!”

“NO, STOP LYING! THEY’RE DEAD!”

Proxy is quick to grasp the situation. He knows there’s no talking this over, not without settling him down first.

“Fine, if you’re gonna throw a tantrum, I’ll make you listen!”

Alexander rushes to Proxy’s side. “No. We shall make you listen! Right?”

“Yeah! So let’s–”

A powerful explosion goes off in front of Cade. A fiery ball of heat whirlwinds where Cade is standing; heat pushes past the others. It was sudden, too quick for any one of them to understand what was going on. Proxy’s eyes glued on the explosion, his thoughts run wild, worried sick about Cade.

“Cade!”

A small cloud of smoke blanks the area. It’s nothing but insane to believe someone can survive an explosion like that.

Santa sighs, baffled by the explosion, and frustrated with such an anti-climatic end for a once-in-a-lifetime fight. “What a disappoint–”

His frustration is cut short. He gets flung back several meters. Something dove out of the smoke, using it to get a sucker punch in, picking a target at random.

Two daggers pierce the veil of smoke. They’re aimed for Proxy. Alexander’s finely honed eyes see them coming. He swings his sword, knocking them out of the air.

“He’s coming after us, Proxy!”

Cade breaks through the smoke, hovering over the ground with his eyes trained on Proxy. Burns are visible on his body, leaving a few marks on him. He managed to summon the hulking monster before the explosion did any further damage.

Cade drives his silver dagger at his target's head. Proxy slides out of the way, narrowly escaping death. He drags the blade across the ground, slicing upward at Proxy. Alexander parries the attack.

“Attack,” Alexander orders.

“Gotcha!”

Alexander and Proxy combat Cade together. Their blades clash several times, picking up the pace of their short encounters. Cade’s aggressive fighting style offsets Alexander's formal style, putting him on the defensive. Proxy isn’t fairing any better with only just his fists; Cade is keeping pace with both fighters.

“Make way, losers!” Wildcard leaps over our head, shoving his feet into Cade’s face. A clean hit to the head, more than enough to get him reeling. “Don’t screw around, start getting hits in!”

They silently agree with Wildcard.

“I shall take the lead,” Alexander exclaims, running forward.

Wildcard follows behind him. “Come on, brat!”

“I ain’t a brat!”

They duck and weave under Cade’s hail of knives. Each knife is smaller than the dagger in his hand. Alexander swiped them out of the way to cover for the two weaponless warriors. They close in on Cade with Proxy getting ahead of Wildcard. His fist misses its mark. But he’s quick to go for a follow-up. Cade and Proxy go at each other, trying to land the first blow.

Proxy sees the difference in their skills. He doesn’t think they’re far apart, rather neck and neck, but even then, he knows that Cade’s skills are geared towards battles like this; life and death fights. Cade’s knife work is masterful, and one screw-up can end with Proxy’s death. “Gotta disarm him, no two ways about it,” Proxy thought.

But he knows it’s easier said than done. Their last fight demonstrated Cade’s clever nature, letting him get the upper hand on Proxy. However, the deftness he wielded his weapon is gone. Each swing carries an unnecessary amount of weight and power and lacks forethought.

Richard had assessed Cade’s mental and cognitive state to be unstable, and he was right. Overwhelmed by rage, sorrow, and his desire for revenge, he can no longer think straight. Whispers in his head suggest his next course of action, and like a machine, he follows it; all feeling, yet without judgment or thought.

Proxy catches his wrist, squeezing it hard. He hits Cade with a flicker jab. A solid blow. Yet…Cade doesn’t even flinch, baring down at his opponent with intense ire

“Don’t tell me you can’t feel pain or some shit.”

Cade, annoyed with that strike despite taking little damage, asserts his strength by flinging Proxy off to the side. His body is flying toward a lamppost. Not liking the idea of making a head-first impact, he puts his hands out for it. He swerves around with all the built-up momentum, shooting right back at Cade. Despite surprisingly hurling back at him, Cade shields with his arm. Proxy hastily hits him with a second kick. Wildcard doesn’t miss his chance to get a hit in. Sandwiched between the two bare-handed fighters unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks.

“That all you got? Weaker than I thought.”

To answer his question, the monster appears, bellowing out a battle cry. Its massive arms try to swipe at Proxy and Wildcard, but they already moved out of the way before it even got the chance

“What is that thing,” Wildcard, low on all fours, asks Proxy.

“Not too sure, but it’s working with him.”

Wildcard clicks his teeth. “What a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but now ain’t the time for complaining!”

“Then let us–”

Alexander catches his tongue in his throat, his gaze locked on a woman strolling behind Cade. Slow, relaxing steps, each one matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. She has no weapons and lacks the physique for battle. Yet, he’s breaking out into a cold sweat.

Proxy was told to watch out for that creature by Richard, who had the displeasure of getting hit with its nails on a chalkboard screech.

“Cover your ears,” Proxy shouts, shutting his ears tight with his hands.

Everyone covers their ears just in the nick of time. The woman unleashes a thunderous scream. Its terrible voice barely making it into their ears is the stuff of nightmares. However, if its target blocks most of it, they’ll be fine.

“Kill them, now!” A masculine voice whispers in Cade’s head.

Cade disappears and the black-haired woman along with him. Proxy’s sense goes off immediately; telling him to watch out above. The muscle-bound monster is coming at them like a homing missile.

“Move!”

Too late. Its gigantic body crashes into the bridge. Huge chunks go hurling into the sky and so do the boys. Each of them scattered around the plaza at the end of the bridge. Proxy hits his back against the ground. Nothing serious but it numbly aches as he gets to his feet. Before he can catch his breath, his sense goes off again, another attack from above. The young delinquent gets out of the way. Cade’s dagger cleaves apart empty air, cutting into the ground.

Proxy gets into his stance, watching Cade’s every move, staring at his face with a keen eye. He’s like an unhinged dog; baring his fangs and waiting to go for the kill. Proxy does see that, but he sees something else: a friend who’s losing himself.

“...Hey,” Proxy says with a nonchalant tone. “...remember when we met? Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?” Proxy readjusts his footing, keeping his sight on Cade. “...Well, I remember it like yesterday. The way you came in and kicked bandit ass was awesome. But more than that, when I saw how you guys worked, I liked what I saw.”

Cade charges at Proxy with his dagger. Proxy swiftly dodges it.

“...You welcomed me with open arms like I was one of you! Even when I left my friends behind, you let me stay. All of you, Puck, Wedge, you guys were people I respected, people I wanted to be friends with.”

“LIAR!”

“I’m not!”

He absent-mindedly swings the dirtied silver blade, desperate to shut Proxy up. And he almost got him, but Proxy grabbed his wrist, stopping the blade from poking a hole in his chest. “You, Puck, and Wedge, I cared about all of you, and I still do!”

“SHUT UP! LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!”

“Hey…!”

“...LIAR, LIAR, LIAR, LIAR, LIAR–”

“Fucking listen!”

Proxy bashes his head into Cade’s. A violent, nauseous headache pounds within his cranium, not to mention his brain is bouncing around. The boy immediately realizes how stupid it was to headbutt him that hard, not headbutting in general.

“...I…ain’t lying… I care about you…but, I can’t let you hurt my friends; I’d regret it… Even with what Marie did, I’ll still protect her.”

Cade shakes him off, clutching his head in pain. Memories swirl inside, pushing happier memories of his time with Proxy. It only confuses him even more, bringing even greater emotional strife.

“YOU…! BANDITS, ALL OF YOU ARE THE SAME! JUST DIE! DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE!”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You still wanna fight…!” He put up his fists once again. “...Come and get it. I don’t give a shit how powerful you are!”

He tears off his cape, revealing his ragged body. His clothes are torn up and his face is pale. He lowers his stance, holding his dagger backward. Proxy plants his feet firmly on the ground, putting his dominant leg forward.

“Bring it, you bastard!”

At that moment, Cade shoots off the ground at breakneck speed. A second is all it takes for him to close the distance. Proxy, relying on his instincts, gets out of the way at the last second. Cade throws his last throwing knife. It slices through the air like butter. At this distance, Proxy’s shoulder will be struck, then Cade will move in and go for a killing blow. That would have been the case if the young man was alone.

Alexander strikes the knife out of the air. The surgical precision with his hands and critical timing needed is unheard of. Someone would say it’s plain impossible for a normal person to do something like that. But Alexander devoted his life to being an ideal knight; in principle and swordplay. Swatting a knife out of the air is no problem for him.

“Coward!” Alexander shouts, aiming his frustration at Cade in Proxy’s place.

“Alex…can you–”

“I am joining in!”

Asking for help is pointless, he’ll get it whether he wants it or not. With a reliable ally with him, Proxy can’t help but crack a smile, grateful for having such wonderful friends.

“Don’t forget about me.” Wildcard pops up behind them, bearing his canines at Cade.

“Don’t fall behind,” Proxy tells him, not even sparing him a glance.

“Right back at you.”

Three vs one, but that isn't enough to call it an advantage; it's just a handicap. He can summon two monsters at will. With the ability to summon and his monstrous strength, fighting against an opponent of this caliber would be hopeless. However, no matter how tough the beast looks, it has a flaw.

Source: an energy that flows from the soul and around the body. The energy that allows you to do feats beyond normal human convention; to shoot fire, heal wounds, conjure creatures, and even enhance your body's capabilities, still comes with its limits.

Cade can use it but doesn't know how to control it properly. Flow, volume, and output are three fundamentals that make a Source-user. Throwing even one of these to the curb is reckless, and a mark of an amateur. Cade, taught to use his abilities by the creatures he conjures, did not learn to control his Source. He is burning more Source than he should. If the fight goes on, and Proxy and co run outlast his attacks, then they can win.

Proxy is aware of this, but he isn’t relying on that method of victory. He knows he’s weaker, but doesn’t waver, he realizes he might die here, but isn’t expecting to lose. Fighting is the only thing he can do to save his friend, even if it gets him killed. For this boy, fighting is the best way to understand and reach a person without words; through this, he wants to reach Cade’s heart.

“Let’s do this! Let’s go, Cade!”

Cade’s beastly roar summons the muscle monster, darting at the three of them. A mass of muscle like that would crush them like a soda can with a single blow. Although it's powerful, the creature is slow. Proxy knows he doesn’t need to focus on it, knocking Cade out is all that matters. But the monster stays on the boy. It swings its giant hand at him, threatening to squish him like a bug, but Alexander intercepts, barely withstanding the force behind the attack.

“Focus on Cade,” Alexander orders the boy. He will fend off the monster while Cade and Proxy go at it. This is the fight to save someone from themself, and Alexander isn’t going to let anyone stop Proxy. “...Do not interfere!”

His blade slices clean through the monster’s hand. An agonizing cry erupts from it, but he pays no mind. He steps to the side of it, aiming for its neck. Whether on intuition or keen instinct, it uses its other arm to block the strike. Unlike its hand, its thick arm is as sturdy as an oak tree.

It swings its arm, flinging Alexander’s sword away. He’s caught off balance for a moment but quickly regains his footing. He weaves under the beast’s arm, dodging its follow-up by the skin of his teeth. The tip of his blade glides across its chest. A shallow cut is all he could manage. There’s no blood coming out of the wound, but the monster can feel the hot stinging sensation, fueling its anger.

Taking a giant leap off the ground, Santa kicks in the creature’s head. Dazed, the old man takes advantage of this moment of confusion. He bashes its chest with three heavy punches. Bright red bruises leave their mark. Alexander jumps up its arm and drops right off to slash at its back. The monster twists, swinging around its arm like a whirlwind. He leaps back while guarding with his blade.

“Your movement. You remind me of someone.” Alexander bites his tongue. He learned swordplay from his father, so the only person Santa could be talking about is obvious. But as much as he wants to ask who he’s talking about, he knows it has to wait.

The monster tears off a large stone sword from a statue. Heavier than any other sword, and twice as likely to cave in someone’s head in a single blow. A bloodcurdling scream bursts from the monster’s mouth, sending shockwaves across the dead plaza, shattering whatever window wasn’t smashed in already.

All three combatants race off. A prolonged fight is not doable, Alexander thought. A single swing from that, and he’d be lucky not to end up a smear on the ground. One blow either to the neck or head is all it would take, and Alexander isn’t blind to this. A single strike is all he will get, anything more and the monster will close it off. Santa, however, has no intention of letting the fight end so soon.

The stone sword is 4 feet long, crafted with the sturdiest stone around, it will withstand the beast’s strength whenever it is swung. The old man asserts he could survive one strike, maybe two. Any more than that, and he might not end up with a missing upper half, but he will be critically injured. All the more thrilling for the old warrior.

Cade’s monster brings down the stone sword. Both men get out of the way. Alexander runs into a broken down, blazing past the rubble and up the stairs. Meanwhile, Santa faces down the monster with a delighted grimace. It immediately went for the kill. It misses, receiving a heavy punch to the chest. Acting with clear intent, he smashes the stone sword from the bottom part of the blade.

“Now, hit me!” Like he wanted, a fist swiped across his face. Blood shoots out of his mouth. A hit like that would be enough to seal the deal. “...Just like…” Santa rocks himself forward, his fist carrying him. His knuckles bury deep into the monster’s chest. “...that!”

A hollow cry echoes across the plaza. Santa doesn’t let up on the assault. Like how a shark goes in when it smells blood, so does this vicious elder. Each strike hits the same spot, weakening it further and further. Euphoria clouds his brain, driving his body to hit harder. Each blow he makes is paid with a punch just as hard as his. Everything goes quiet, he feels no pain, and all he can hear is the exhilarated beats of his heart. In this moment of intense combat, where one too many hits to the head can kill him, he gives thanks to Jed, Cade, and this monster, for making his heart race like it used to.

Fed up with its enemy, bringing more of its power out, it decks the old man, hard. He’s sent flying, crashing into a building across the street. Before it could think about going over to finish the enemy, it heard something coming from the second floor of the building Alexander ran into. He jumps out of it, soaring for the monster. Its large fist hits Alexander's side, breaking a few of his ribs. He bites down on the urge to scream. Right now, at this very moment, he can’t let himself lose focus. He runs his blade through the monster’s forehead. And, while fighting against the pain, he tears his sword out of its head, leaving a brutal injury.

The blonde swordsman goes rolling around on the ground when he lands. He takes labored breaths. The monster next to him began to fade and crumble away. Cade's reliable source of destruction is gone, leaving only one monster left.

The Source-user instantly realizes the conjured construct has been defeated.

“Fath…er…!?”

Proxy stops several feet in front of him, with Wildcard walking next to him.

“Looks like he's warming up for us,” Wildcard states, whipping out a three-section staff. “...Mind if I join in?”

“If you can keep up.”

“Whatever you say, you cocky little shit.”