Waterstrider

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

It was hard to tell whether we had been caught or not. The effectiveness of our disguises were limited, and aside from my own disguise, there would likely be a limit to how often we could use this trick, at least for disguising as Celans. There was simply too large of a difference between a Seiyal and Jobu physique. We were too short and slender, which left the disguises lacking. It would have been better if we could pretend to be Merris, but there were far too few of the race on the station for us to move without notice in that case.

Once everyone had made it over, we had set up about a stack away from our target, as well as one level below. There was a rent house just far enough away that we could avoid the eyes of the Celan security forces patrolling the area, and we had bought it out for the day. At such a distance, I felt we could arrive at the headquarters in under a minute, so it seemed a good place.

In the room, we had removed our Celan disguises, donning the martial uniforms we had been hiding beneath. We could wear disguises to move around the station, but in a fight, it was important that we displayed our identity. My sect would not be one with a cowardly reputation. We would fight outwardly and openly, as if unafraid of reprisal.

Despite waiting for hours, we never actually received the call to move out from the clan. Instead, I was surprised to feel a powerful rumble filling the stack, followed by the crack of stone and the boom of an explosion in the distance.

I turned to Rachel, immediately calling for a report on what had happened. Her eyes had glazed over, but she swiftly explained the shift in the situation.

“It seems that the Celans managed to find out exactly where the clan’s aeros planned to land, and staged an ambush. They’re fighting on top of this and the nearby stacks.”

“Have the mercenaries made their move?” I asked, but she shook her head.

“Not yet.”

I paused for a moment, considering my options, and then sighed. No matter how poorly the situation may have turned for our ‘allies,’ we still needed to fulfill our part of the deal. This would not, I thought, be a pleasant experience for my forces. It would be a massacre. I turned to Orion and Jihan.

“Remember our priorities,” I said. Both men nodded in response.

“Defenses on all parts of the headquarters are preparing to activate,” warned Rachel. “We should probably get moving quick.”

My eyes roamed over all the martial artists present. I did not want to move before the Hadal Clan asked us to, as it was possible they could call the attack off. However, the longer we waited, the more dangerous the situation would become.

“Let’s move out,” I finally said, immediately charging out of the room, and onto the populated street.

The passersby were shocked by the explosion, but they were even more shocked as a Seiyal in crimson robes tore out of an alley and across the street to the nearest bridge. The commotion only grew as tens of other martial artists followed behind me.

Rachel, of course, had turned invisible, her apparition fading, a tactic she would certainly use if she had been a real martial artist. Though the Celans already knew of her true nature, it was still better to keep it a secret from forces such as the government, the Hadal Clan, and the other underworld forces.

“Keep me apprised of the situation of the other battlefields,” I said, speaking the words under my breath as I ran.

“No changes so far,” replied Rachel, speaking in that same whispered voice as always.

Miasma coursed through my meridians, power surging within me as I pressed my body as fast as it could move. It was exhilarating, and I wished I could do this regularly. There were certainly problems with living inside such a greatly inhabited environment like Tseludia. There were no places to just go out and run without worries.

Now, however, I could move as I pleased. While the crowds were too slow to part before me, I was sufficiently agile to dodge and weave between them, rapidly outpacing all of my subordinates. Even Jihan, with all his strength, could not keep up, only able to swiftly charge behind me.

I charged up the stairwell, ending up before the section on the bottom layer of the building where we had planned to break in. A squad of Staiven soldiers were standing guard by the entrance, and I could see a heavy firearm which had been set up on a stand within the entryway. The moment I left the stairwell, they shouted some words in Celan and began to fire.

It seemed, I thought, that they had been more prepared than I had hoped. However, I was pleasantly surprised not to see any enforcers present and only one gun emplacement.

I dashed the remaining distance, my sword already unsheathed and delivering a torrent of slashes towards the soldiers, dismembering all those who were too close to my position.

I couldn’t restrain the smile on my face as my robes were stained an even deeper shade of crimson by the spilt blood. Before me, I could see the intimidated figures of the Celans. The Korlove operating the heavy gun was even trembling, his aim unable to keep up with my rapid, erratic movement, and my body which contorted out of the way of any bullet which arrived too close. A number of bullets I had barely dodged had left tears in my robe, but I paid no heed to such trivial matters.

By the time Jihan and the others arrived, I had already cleared out most of the guards, having become someone beyond the capacity of such mortal adversaries. All that was left was the heavy gunner and the others hiding inside the building. I was restrained from a direct charge by the overlapping fields of fire, and charging directly in would be a risk, even for me.

A spirit refiner, after all, was not bulletproof.

As Jihan arrived at the top of the stairs, he immediately moved to reinforce me from the flank, forcing the Celans inside of the defended aperture to split their target, reducing the pressure I felt. I fed the storm within me, and in an instantaneous burst of swiftness, rolled beneath the line of fire, my sword diving out to tear apart both the heavy gun and its Korlove operator. Still right behind me, Jihan assisted me in slaughtering the remainder of the Celans who were in sight. For a moment we stood there, not even winded, and locked gazes.

“This was too easy,” I said.

He nodded in agreement, inspecting the limited number of defenders, and the open entrance leading into the headquarters.

“The mercenaries have made their attack,” said Rachel suddenly. “They’ve been met with resistance by enforcers, and it’s the same for the Hadal Clan up top. It seems they wish us to believe that the lack of defenders here was an oversight.”

At this, I snorted. More likely, I thought, was either that they wished us to enter and step into a trap, or were still attempting to appeal to us. But would the Celans really sacrifice these soldiers for such little gain, just to do such a thing while upholding appearances? If so, that Vice-Leader of theirs was far more dangerous than I had previously believed.

The rest of my force rapidly arrived, settling into careful stances around me as they waited for my next order. I glanced into the well-lit stone hallway which lead into the building, feeling an odd sense of foreboding. I could see at the end of the hall that it split up into two separate directions.

“We’ll go in,” I ordered. “Elder Jihan, you and your squad will infiltrate ahead of us to the left and compare the layout to the blueprint we saw earlier. I’ll lead the forces to the right. Make sure to keep in touch about your situation. Palace Leader Dinyu, split your forces into two parts, and have them follow myself and the Elder.”

He bowed respectfully.

“By your will, Sect Leader,” he said, turning back to talk with his squad leaders, while Jihan and I took our first steps into the bright hall.

Deep down, I hoped that this was actually a mistake by the Celans, and there were no deeper motives, but I couldn’t delude myself into believing that. It would simply be far too convenient. I felt as if some plot was going on of which I was unaware. It was a feeling that I deeply reviled. Working around and within the schemes of others was simply a part of living within a group or society, but I had always preferred to deal with open schemes and forces whose desires I could understand.

The unknown, I thought, was rarely one’s friend. As I stepped further and further into the confines of the alien headquarters, I lifted the hem of my robe, wiping the blood from the surface of my blade, but placed no effort on stemming the slow, steady drip of the sanguine liquid from trailing on the ground behind me. There was no reason to. This was but the start of the amount of blood I would see shed today.

Blood Among Humanoid Races: [Interestingly, the purpose and composition of blood among the various humanoid races is startlingly similar. While only those of shared direct origin, such as the Jobu, Korlove, and Merris, can directly transfuse blood between one another, My adding and removing certain specific compounds, it can actually be possible to transfer blood between a Seiyal and Korlove, for example, without causing major issues, though the chance for complications is much higher than usual. For some reason, this only works for the blood, and not other fluids and organs that a given two humanoid races share, at least without significant anti-rejection treatment. A common hypothesis in the past was that this has something to do with the unique trait humanoids have of generating sanguine miasma within their body after being wounded in certain ways, however as the reason for that trait is unknown, this idea still remains untested.]