Waterstrider

Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

Kein Huang was truly exhausted. First there were several waves of Staiven security forces, where he had been shot twice and was forced to keep moving despite that. He had received a few minutes of respite, but that was ruined when tens of martial artists began milling around the lobby, appearing as if out of nowhere. Apparently, the Sect Leader had stumbled upon them and decided to free them all. Kein couldn’t blame him for that, and actually somewhat admired the noble deed.

More than anything, he was glad to know that the Sect Leader had not yet gone mad. He would have slaughtered them rather than free them had that been the case.

Kein did know that this might cause massive issues for the sect, however. Idly he wondered whether or not they would be able to weather the pressure from the government. Knowing what he did of Rachel, he suspected that she would not have chosen to save them. He knew full well just how much that deed would threaten them all. Still, it was the right thing to do in his estimation, regardless of the cost.

The escaped captives crowded the lobby, creating a bustling clamor which was giving Kein a serious headache. There were more people present than could comfortably fit inside the room. Kein worried that the security force might attack again soon, and many of the weaker martial artists would simply die without the ability to defend themselves effectively.

Beside him, Ran was also resting herself. While her wounds were less severe than his own, he knew that they would still sap at her internal energy. By the time they escaped, the two of them might need to be dragged back to the sect headquarters. Cinto was assisting in controlling order among the antsy former test subjects. If Kein was in better condition, he likely would have been performing a similar role.

It was difficult for him to tell the passage of time. One side effect of his use of genesis miasma to ignore his wounds was the production of endorphins and adrenaline, as he had once heard the reason described. Regardless of its origin, Kein found that his perception of time seemed to be distorted somewhat. He felt as if the wait for his superiors was taking hours, but somehow the time also seemed to pass in an instant.

His attention was also drawn to the oddest details. He noticed the discolored tan of the clothing that the test subjects had been outfitted with, further evidence of the Staiven lack of aesthetic sensibilities. He noticed how sterile and clean the room smelled, despite the mass of Seiyal bodies milling around within. That detail flagged in his mind, and he realized that something was wrong with the scent. Bodies were not scentless, he knew. There was no explanation for the smell that he could think of, unless there was something covering it up.

He swore, an immediate possibility coming to mind. Ran looked over, surprised at the outburst of emotion.

“What happened?” she asked, springing to attention. “Are they here?”

“They might be. Smell the air.”

Ran breathed in, and then quickly realized the issue.

“The scent is muted… Do you believe it to be poison?”

Kein nodded.

“I’ve heard the Staiven appreciate such dishonorable tactics. It would be odd if a few guards were the only defenses that this place has, in the first place.”

“Even if it is poison, I’m unsure whether there might be anything we can do about it.”

The two stood in silence for a few moments, knowing the truth to that statement. After all, they needed to defend the lobby, or they would never be able to escape the facility. Perhaps, however, they could move some of the weaker martial artists away from danger.

Kein made his way through the crowd. The individual martial artists parted to either side of him, awed both by his size and martial strength. There were few of the core formation realm among their number, and even those naturally deferred to Kein, who was with the group that had rescued them. He passed through their ranks, making his way to where Cinto stood. He did not know the levels of the martial artists who had been rescued, and given the injuries himself and Ran currently held, Cinto was left as the currently strongest martial artist in the room, as far as he was concerned. In addition, he knew that she was good at handling people. While he was aware that her mentality was currently not the strongest, she was the only person he could go to.

As Kein approached, Cinto noticed him, and turned to meet his gaze.

“There is an issue,” he said, and Cinto nodded.

“So you noticed it as well. But we can’t stop defending the lobby.”

“We ourselves need to remain, as well as perhaps the strongest among the captives,” he said. “But I believe it would best befit the weak to move into the halls, away from this room. Even if it isn’t actually poison, they would still likely get in the way of any fighting.”

Cinto nodded, finding herself in agreement with him.

“You wished me to handle this?” she asked.

Kein nodded, not bothering to hide the weariness he felt must be clearly present on his face.

“I find myself hanging by a thread,” he said.

“You just need to hang on for a few more minutes.”

Leaving the matter at that, Cinto began calling out to those in the room, directing them to different locations. Her experience in the past few weeks had created a change in her, Kein had come to realize. Back when they had both served under Hidoro, she had been quieter and much less forceful. She had avoided her fellow gangsters, only associating with Hidoro himself. She only spoke to the others when needed.

Kein had no way of discerning whether the shift was due to her time as a teacher at the martial academy or the experience as the instructor for the large group of new disciples. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she had been named to the position of one of the sect’s Palace Leaders.

Kein leaned back onto the wall once more as Cinto handled the organization of the room. His eyelids were heavy, and he knew that he only had a few more minutes of consciousness left in him. If the wounds left by Staiven weapons were not cauterized by the intense heat, he would likely have already been dead. Perhaps it was the wounds, or perhaps simply the poison, if that was what the odd scentlessness was caused by.

Again, he felt a shift, as if a great deal of time had passed in an instant. He was startled to awareness by the crack of gunfire, and a pained shout which clearly emitted from a Seiyal voice. His eyes snapped open, though he had not even realized that at some point they had shut.

The room was now almost empty. Beside himself, Ran, and Cinto, there were also another four individuals, one of whom was clearly the source of the cry, for he had taken a step backward in pain. Kein’s eyes flashed in the direction from which the cracking sound had emerged, and he saw figures suited up in reflective white garb carrying large rifles of the same color. The figures wore featureless masks of the same material, though unlike Kein’s own, the masks lacked eyeholes. It was clear that they were Staiven, but this garb was far more advanced than that of the previous lobby guards, and their firearms shot out at a far more rapid pace.

Kein felt a searing pain in his shoulder, the sensation fully awakening him and providing him with a far greater understanding of his situation. His legs and arms were heavy, his miasma moving slowly under his control. He tried to move his right arm, the one that had just been wounded, and found it unresponsive to his command. Enraged, Kein joined the others in charging towards the Staiven.

At some point, his sword had fallen to the ground, but Kein knew he could fight without it. Another two bullets collided with his body, but by luck, both grazed his body rather than tearing through. He reached their lines right after Cinto and one of the captives did.

Cinto fought in an efficient manner. In a sword fight, genesis practitioners often liked to take blows to store their energy and enhance their own power. It was Kein’s usual fighting style, but one which could not be transferred over to battle with aliens, as firearms could not be treated in the same manner. In this fight, she was clearly conserving her own energy as she tried to avoid the angle of the gun barrel as she went for the body.

It struck Kein that it was almost as if she were attempting to replicate Cyrus’ fighting style, despite their differences in miasma and technique.

The other martial artist appeared to be a manifest practitioner in the core formation realm, and the air around him wavered as fields of energy and bubbling liquid seemed to form and shift around him, throwing off the aim of the Staiven guards. They bubbled and warped the corrugated metal of the ground beneath them like soft metal placed in the bellows. It seemed this man had a technique relating to heat.

Kein crashed into one of the guards before him, slamming the weak alien back with his fist. The Staiven fell to the ground, wounded. But moments after Ran entered the hallway behind him, he heard a clunking noise as the hatch behind him shut, trapping the four martial artists in what seemed like a death trap.

Manifest Arts: [An odd martial art, manifest techniques often result in the formation and reformation of materials and energy as if from nowhere. According to modern science, it is believed that this matter and energy emerges from certain separate spacetimes rather than truly forming from nothing. Some say the spacetime in connection is a theorized layer beneath the Spirit World. Because it relates to generation, manifest martial arts techniques can be very odd in combat. Some manifest practitioners summon weapons, heat, stone, or other materials, though they are heavily limited by their realm and specific techniques. Of all the different martial paths, the manifest arts are one of the most difficult to use in combat at lower levels, as most techniques can only be used at higher realms of martial arts. Individual manifest paths might be either orthodox or unorthodox, depending on their nature, that being whether or not the manifest practitioner generates their art in the interior or exterior of their bodies.]