Waterstrider

1st District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

Most martial artists, it seemed, were far too used to going to battle with a proper understanding of the environment and what they were facing. They felt that battle should be avoided if one did not know one’s enemy. I personally felt that they had operated for far too long within the protective shield of Canvas Town, a place they all knew like the back of their hand.

My experience was the opposite. I was aware that I had a dangerous tendency to run into conflict with little to no advance thought, a fact which had caused great troubles in my life. Still, this experience allowed me to keep any anxiety I may have been feeling in check, while the others seemed uncomfortable.

We were standing by a street-side railing, looking down at the area where the elevator’s hatch was located. I had somewhat expected the first district to have a different look to those I had been to before, but somehow it was the least unique of all the districts. There was so little ornamentation that I suspected everything looked like it had straight out of the construction yard. Rachel had told me there was some decoration by the actual government buildings, but we were several stacks away from any of those, in a residential area that catered largely to government employees.

In the end, we had all decided it was best to only bring those in the core formation realm. This meant myself, Kein Huang, Cinto Sakie, Ran Ishun, and Rachel, who was still a martial artist as far as the others were aware. We wore generic black robes as well as featureless gray masks, to hide our identities. While it would not prevent us from potentially being recognized, as a mask would not stop a Staiven’s senses, what mattered most was deniability, rather than the truth.

I had allowed Eli Dan to take up my guise with Rachel’s assistance. He would be in charge of the sect if anything happened during our absence, and would also serve as my alibi. I would normally be far more wary, but I got the feeling I could trust him with my identity for a time. He seemed to have a strong survival instinct, so I doubted that he would dare to make any mistakes.

The original plan had simply involved us breaking down the hatch and forcing our way in. However, a lucky break had allowed us a slightly less brutal method of entry. She had been keeping an eye on all elder or near elder Staiven who lived within the stacks, and one of them had been taken in by the government just a few hours before the present moment. If we timed it well, we would be able to make our way into the elevator and ride it down. This struck us all as a better idea than breaking into the shaft and climbing down. Particularly since for all we knew, the elevator shaft could lead to more than one location.

Most of my attention was focused on the door and its surroundings, unwilling to let any sort of minor opportunity slip. I could hear the others speaking behind me, though, and I passively listened to their conversation.

“Are you okay?” said Rachel’s voice. “You already look tired.”

I heard Ran sigh, and according to my sense of her soul, she shifted her position slightly..

“It’s not a big deal. I’m just feeling a little unsatisfied about something. This will not affect my performance in the mission.”

“Ah, is this about Yudan? You wanted to be the one to kill him? Kein, you really shouldn’t have taken that from her.”

The large man sighed, choosing not to respond.

“No, it’s fine,” said Ran. “The final blow wasn’t particularly important to me. It’s just that I find myself thinking about how a stage of my life has ended with his death.”

“Ohhhh?” asked Rachel, drawing the word out in a suggestive manner. “Did you still like him?”

Ran was saved from needing to respond to the question by the arrival of a small group of Staiven to the area below us, one of whom was resting on a metal cart with spider-like legs. It was larger than a Korlove, and were very expensive machines generally used by the elderly rich to move themselves around. The group stood before the hatch, and a woman stood out before them, tapping something into the pad at the hatch’s center. Our group all stopped talking as we watched them, biding our time.

The hatch slid open, revealing a small metal room with no other access points. I had never used an elevator before, but the concept was simple enough that I understood all I needed to.

Without needing to speak, we all leapt over the railing, landing easily on the ground twenty feet below. Some of the Staiven whirled in surprise by our sudden appearance, but their reaction speed was far too slow to do anything. We charged past them and through the hatch, which had already been loaded with the bleary old woman, her bulbous eyes dripping purple juices all over the parchment-like flakes of her skin. She seemed to be drugged, which was probably the only reason she had not screamed. The door closed on Rachel, who had only been midway through, but was unable to stop her illusory form. As there were no lights inside, darkness cloaked itself around us.

“Are you alright?” asked Kein.

She nodded, waving her hand and releasing seven small pinpoint lights. They floated above her hand, like fireflies in the evening sky.

“My body is mostly illusory at the moment. Nothing can touch me unless I allow it to.”

Kein nodded, accepting that response. They had all long discovered that Rachel’s body was not substantial, but this fit with their understanding of extant arts, as rare as they were.

Even I did not know whether what she described was possible with such arts or not. I could count the number of extant practitioners I had met in my life with just the fingers of one hand.

It simply was not the most popular sort of art. It was said that a sufficiently advanced extant practitioner could make the real illusory and the illusory real, but if one wished to create things, manifest arts could accomplish the same even at the meridian establishment realm.

The elevator shuddered, and I could feel the souls of the Staiven left outside begin to rise away. We were descending beneath the stacks, where the Retirement Center was located.

We stood in silence during the descent. The elevator was a rather confirmed space for six people and the large spider-legged mobility aid to stand in, and the featureless patchwork walls did not aid the sense of claustrophobia that I chose to ignore. Luckily, the sensation was quickly eased as the elevator shuddered to a halt. Moments later, the door opened once again, revealing a cavernous darkness.

It struck me that had the station not been redesigned for habitation of other races, the entirety of Tseludia Station might have been just as void of light. After all, a blind race such as the Staiven had no need of it.

The small lights that Rachel had created drifted out into the room, and I realized that we were standing before what looked like the lobby of any large business. There were several hatches leading deeper into the facility, while a Staiven man sat behind a desk, clearly dumbfounded by our appearance. I smiled at him, knowing that he would be able to sense the expression behind the mask.

I walked towards him, sword drawn from its sheath, and motioned to Rachel to speak with him. While I had continued to brush up on my practice with the language, it was better for a fluent speaker to handle the talking. If nothing else, it would save us time and potential misunderstanding.

She strode towards him, who had begun to cower slightly, and began asking questions. As we had discussed in advance, Rachel whispered a translation of their conversation into my ear, so I could keep up with the current state of events.

“Where is Ester Perivar?” she asked.

“W-what?”

“He’s one of your test subjects. Open your terminal and find out where he’s housed.”

A slight sense of courage seemed to come over him, and he glared at her.

“You’ll be killed for this, you know. You won’t even be allowed to serve for life in the labor camps.”

Rachel cocked her head at him.

“An awfully bold statement for a man we will kill if he doesn’t get us the information we want.”

One of the hatches at the back of the room opened, and several Staiven in body armor filed out, immediately firing white-hot ammunition at us. Unfortunately for them, Cinto, Ran, and Kein had spread out to each stand beside one of the hatches. I was the only one within the field of fire, and I dodged most of the volley, though one bullet grazed against my thigh with a searing hiss. As the wound was already cauterized and not too deep, I chose to ignore it.

Kein, who had been standing beside the hatch they had emerged from, lopped one of their heads off in one blow, making swift work of the others. The last of the guards managed to hit him in the gut with a bullet before his death, and the projectile tore right through him. Kein grunted in pain, but like a true genesis practitioner, the constant flow of miasma allowed him to remain standing. Provided he was not hit in a truly vital location, Kein would be able to continue standing no matter his injuries. At least, he could do so until his meridians became too inflamed to channel more miasma.

With that episode concluded, Rachel continued to watch the Staiven secretary with a dark smile on her face. Without needing to hear another word, he quickly reached to the terminal that extended from the desk as if the misshapen lump was one with the furniture.

“P- Perivar, I remember. We don’t get many here with surnames. Let me see… he’s in room ul366. It’s past that door.”

He pointed to another of the doors to the side, one labeled with an embossed Staiven letter ul. Rachel turned to me, but her words this time were only heard as a whisper, for my ears only.

“I copied his access credentials, and have acquired a low level of access to their system. He wasn’t lying, Perivar should be this way.”

I motioned to the door, and she nodded. I turned to my subordinates, who still guarded the doors.

“Ran and Kein, guard this room so we can escape. Cinto, come with me to grab the target.”

They nodded, and Cinto jogged over. It struck me that she had not yet spoken a single word since we had entered the first district. I respected the professionalism. Silence was an advantage in such situations.

“Of course, Sect Leader,” said Kein.

I glared at him for the slip, but he couldn’t see it through my mask. With a sigh, the three of us entered the door labeled ul, into a long, umbral corridor. Rachel produced some more pinprick lights, but all they seemed to do was to create more shadows.

It struck me that this place would make an excellent Saayan cathedral.

Extant Arts: [While extant arts are not particularly secretive in nature, and accepted by both the orthodox and unorthodox paths, practitioners are quite rare. There are few martial organizations that specifically focus on these arts, though many organizations try to support a few artists each generation with such a path, because they can be very useful. The arts are simply not seen as as glamorous as the others for most, as they enhance the body the least of all miasma types. In fact, it can be said that they have a negative impact on the body, since many extant techniques in fact reduce the ability of the body, via intangibility. Still, illusion arts can be incredibly powerful in large scale conflict, and it is said that extant path immortals are among the most dangerous.]