3.19 - Blazing Sun's Obeisance
You…
You'll have to go all in.
Your spear must shine with all the light it can give out.
Linette smiles- and then frowns. And then the emotions in her face become impossible to discern- a sort of blank mask of emptiness in her features.
"All in?" she says. "So-"
You don't give her time to react.
Before her body can shift again-
Before she can attack you-
Before anyone can form a thought-
Before the audience can blink-
You charge.
In a dark cave lives a mad Sarkaz.
He mumbles endlessly about things that never happened, punching and kicking at his own shadow.
He insists that since a Sankta took the Key, all clocks and watches have lost their meaning. He rants and raves to himself.
"Things that never happened."
But did they, really?
One day, a man came into his cave.
He is no Sarkaz, and no Sankta. In fact, some would say he is nothing at all.
The madman continued his rant- but then, he stopped.
"You're
here." said the mad Sarkaz, stopping what he was currently doing- that being, smashing his hands against the rock, certain that his own shade was an enemy.
The man did not answer.
The lunatic laughed, and laughed, falling to his knees, giggling uncontrollably. "You're here," he whispered, his mind slipping away by the second. "You're finally here for me."
The man tilted his head.
"...I do not know you."
The madman grins- a grin that should be painful for a human face to bear.
"But I do, Lech.
Yksitoista. Your buddies made
them pretty happy." his face twists into a frown. "If only they hadn't taken
them away… come, come! Let's see what I have in store!"
He gestures around, waving his hands, showing the man the expanses of his darkened cave.
He gestures towards a few broken clock dials, many half-melted gears, shards of glass, cracked metal chains. He mumbles half-forgotten speeches and futilely tries to remember old notions, once clear in his mind.
"I was waiting, you see. You changed
everything. You… you're different. I thought I couldn't sell anyone this… but now I can." he says, unveiling a clock from the rags he wears. "That girl came by and bought off my other one. She didn't have much, but… I couldn't let the sale pass by, could I? A little more. A little more, and I'll be able to buy a ticket! A ticket to Laterano, no? To find that Sankta."
The man stares at the madman before him.
"That girl?"
He waves off the question.
"Perro. Came by. Doesn't matter! What I sold to her isn't useful to you, anyway! You'll find this one far more interesting."
Without saying a word, he takes a sack from the inside of his coat. Inside of the sack, numerous ingots of refined, pure Originium press against each other.
The lunatic grins, and takes the sack.
"One, two, three, eight, twenty-three… you didn't have to bring so many, but you still did!"
The man contemplates the cave for a second.
"...did you know I would come, then? Perhaps Cannot told you. He pointed me towards this cave."
There is no answer- at least, no coherent one.
"Cannot? Who cannot? I cannot? I can, haha!"
The man sighs.
"...I can see I won't get much out of you. Take your pay. What did you want to sell me? This clock in your hands?"
The madman shudders, and hands over the clock.
He walks back into the darkness, and pours his ingots over the ground- in a pile. He starts counting them again. When he finishes counting, he counts them backwards, and continues his rant while he does so.
Now forgotten, the man shakes his head and walks away- contemplating the object in his hands.
It's.. such a strange thing, you note as you run through the rooftops.
This watch.
Linette gave it to you. She said it'd help.
Somehow- when you woke up today- you were holding it. And you
knew what would happen.
In exactly seventeen minutes and eight seconds, whether or not Linette wins or loses, one man- one man named Czarny will die.
Eight Armorless Union assassins will catch him in his study, as he finishes writing a letter to his family. He will not notice their presence, but anticipate them all the same.
He will hope that someone comes in to save him- but know that no one will come. Sweat will roll down his forehead, and he will pray. His breathing will grow increasingly more ragged.
As the course of things becomes clear, he will curse Linette's name one final time.
In exactly fourteen minutes and forty-three seconds, they will confirm his location to one another, and "Lazurite" Monique will ready her bow.
Five seconds after this very instant, she will launch a projectile.
One second afterwards, the house of his window will break.
Two seconds afterwards, the projectile will bury itself in his chest.
He will agonize for two minutes and seventeen seconds. He will die in agony, the corrosive materials covering the arrow melting through his lungs and reaching his heart.
He will attempt to curse someone- but his words will fail him, and he will fall off his chair.
But before this occurs, he will simply drown in his blood and die.
You realize what this watch is, now.
"A broken clock is right twice a day." you mutter to yourself, taking your fifth cigarette out of your mouth.
Everyday- you know of
two events that will occur. You know them perfectly- and everything relating to them.
The first event will occur that day. In this case- the event is the victory of a knight that does not matter to you, in the matches. She will find a chink on the opponent's armor and incapacitate them.
It was pure luck- and you don't think she has what it takes to win the next.
Still.
The vision made you quite a lot of money, and allowed you to buy the tickets for the Radiant Knight's match even with the arena absolutely crammed.
The second event- the assassination- will occur soon enough.
And it's your duty to stop it.
Linette asked you for one more favor.
She owes you a
lot- she didn't call, even when she should have, embroiled as she is in this scheming. But you'll do this for her.
Linette knew Czarny was about to be attacked- but she did not know when, even when she held the stopped clock herself. She gave it to you, to stop the attack.
You only learned of the attack
two minutes ago- this strange piece of Workshop technology did not seem to see fit to warn you of anything before that exact moment.
While this thing is useful…
It might be too fickle to be truly practical. You knew two events were about to happen- the first, an irrelevant thing, learned immediately.
The second, critical, learned perhaps too late.
You have sixteen minutes and twenty-two seconds.
You light another cigar and continue running.
One more debt for the pile.
Your swordspear impacts Linette on the chest.
She gasps- but you do not feel the sensation of parted flesh. Neither do you feel metal crackling, crumpling.
You feel as if you've just parted water.
You're close enough that you should feel your enemy's breath. Close enough for the thumping of their heart. The world is slowed down, your mind whirling as you process the situation.
Linette does not breathe.
Linette's heart does not beat.
…ah.
You think you understand it, now.
You hear the sound of cracked glass- but you know it is completely meaningless. The armor shattered, but it's not as if she ever cared about it at all.
Your instincts flare again- and before your opponent can act, your Arts rise.
She moves to block, but you're faster. An impact hits the left side of her face. Before she can react, you grab her by the shoulder- and then you toss Linette towards the edge of the arena.
The ground quakes.
You leap after her.
WE ALL KNOW THAT IN A BATTLE, YOU GET ONE SECOND TO DEAL A DECISIVE BLOW.
I HAVE THE PERFECT EMOTICON FOR THIS.
\_(((OwO)))_/
NO WAIT IT WASN'T THIS ONE.
ANYWAY, LET'S SEE IF SHE CAN KEEP UP THIS PRESSURE!
Charge. Sweep. Feint. Thrust. Block.
Her actions blur into one. No action has a defined, unique purpose- all of it is meant to keep the pressure. A strike must transit to another strike from the other side, the definition of a feint is unclear.
At any moment, if she sees the way the tides are turning, a feint may become a real attack, and a real attack may become a feint.
This is the fighting style that belongs to your opponent- to this Mirrored Knight.
Even while you leap at her in the air, at a speed hardly distinguishable to the naked eye, she keeps up. Her form is changing again- you need to keep attacking!
Your spear grows in size, wreathed in the solar glow of your Arts.
The Mirrored Knight's form switches again.
"That's some resolution there." she says, laughing, as she lands into the floor with a heavy impact. The skin on her face is dissolving- one of her eyes pops like a bubble. "Let's see if you've got what it takes. The Infected knights you claim to protect… let's see if you can overcome
their struggles."
Before you can even press on- the audience screams in surprise.
What you see before you… is a long, bloated and mutated gloompincer.
But you… will not falter.
"Gh!"
You tumble to the ground, banner lying on the ground, stained with blood. Your blood.
Damn it.
"Hm." says the nightmarish knight in front of you. "I wasn't expecting this… you are but a mundane Kuranta. Not even of Pegasus blood. And yet… you put up a good fight."
…you've got to say, the racism was a bit surprising.
You stand up, sword in hand, and return to your combat stance.
As stalwart as you can try to be, the whole impression… it's somewhat undermined by the fact that you were tossed into a dumpster a minute and a half ago, so you still look like shit.
"Not bad. You still hold onto your willpower."
You grin. He knocked your helmet away soon after the fight started- you even thought he might be a bit too much for you.
But no.
You can't bear to lose this one, before the match even starts.
No way in hell.
Your mouth is stained with blood, but you're smiling. Your blood is pumping.
You spit towards him.
"What are you even trying to accomplish?"
The knight in front of you mutters something incomprehensible, in a language you have never heard of, nevermind tried to learn.
"Kazimierz's frailty is humiliating." he mutters. "You will be my opponent for tonight. Though your will is not lacking, your strength very much is. What am I trying to accomplish? I came to test my strength against you lot- perhaps one of you has strength enough to meet me in battle for my Khaganquest. Now go on, call me mad. You're all very much the same."
Mad…?
No, he's not mad.
He at least has some sort of purpose… even if it doesn't ring truly clear. That you can discern, at least.
Can you even say that? Aren't you such a hollow little thing, after all?
You laugh.
"Khaganquest… I have no idea of what that is. But it does sound interesting."
You raise your blade.
"Come on, then- tell me your story! Nightmare Knight, eh?"
He raises his weapon as well.
"Knight… I am no knight. If you must call me a name, call me Tola." he says, before turning back. "You have incited my interest, "Flagbearer." We'll see what you are, tonight."
What a time to be alive.
"I can feel some inner conflict there. Can't you?" notes the Voice.
Oh, yes. You can. It's obvious.
But it's not like you can say much about it. Glass houses.
An attempt to undermine your push.
This monstrosity in your path… through the road of misdirection and deceit, it's almost a relief. Its purpose is clear as day- to disrupt your charge.
Others would not like to admit such a fault, but you know that you're not as suited to fighting monsters such as these.
The gloompincer's centipede body is littered with pustules and growths, chitinous appendages and clawed limbs. Its mandibles are sharp.
When it attacks, it's the movements of pure instinct. No form, no practiced movements, simple pure savagery. Through pure animal awareness, the creature whose form Linette is borrowing targets your upper arm, collarbone, windpipe, temple, ribs.
A flurry of strikes is launched at you, and you-
You
attack.
She had a plan for this.
You wanted to overwhelm her regeneration with pure pressure. Knock her down, beat her into the ground until she could not make another step.
A war of attrition might be impossible. If she truly can regenerate from any wound, trying to grind her down would be your downfall.
That still is your best hope.
She wants you to prove your strength, too- you'll have to meet her head on. Her counter to your attempt to go on the full offensive was to do the same- and make mincemeat of you before you can do the same to her.
But the animal she's using as a shell can't use her techniques, can it?.
All the flaws in the ability of a copied body can be corrected using her own technique, but… she can't exactly wield martial arts in that inhuman body, you've noticed.
This is an opportunity.
As the mandibles dig into your skin, you make no attempts at defense.
It's all or nothing.
The fight descends into pure madness. You slash and stab with as much speed as you can muster. One more. Two more. Three more.
Your swordspear blazes with light- and a sword falls from the sky, burying itself in your opponent's body. Before she can even screech- you continue to press on the advantage.
You continue to smash the gloompincer before you, this mutated animal, into an unrecognizable pulp. Her heart does not beat, her breathing is as false as the rest.
There is nothing but silvery liquid.
There is no "true body."
You've heard the stories of the Damazti Sarkaz, but somehow you know she is not one. She is something else.
Your spear descends yet again-
And a wave of cold repels it.
Arts!
Freezing cold.
You- you remember this sensation. You felt something somewhat like it, days before- thought it was far, far weaker. Facing the members of Warwhip K.C. Did she copy them?
No- you remember now. Their trainer was a Samifjod, a warrior from Sami.
The woman laying in front of you, a caster wreathed in furs, a calm look in her face- is a sorceress from that nation, from that isolated land.
She's switching again, frantically. It's sloppier, trembling. She's…
she's growing exhausted? Desperate? Is the fight taking a toll on her? Is it a falsehood, meant to lure you into a trap?
You cannot stop now. Every second of doubt is another second she can mount a counterattack.
You leap, before she can change- but you're an instant too late. Your blade soars alongside your form-
And a fist catches it.
"Rusthammer." says Linette, form rippling again. An horrific cross between beast and man, moving closer by the second in the direction of the latter. "An organization that I have grown to know. Have you faced them in battle, Radiant Knight?"
Yes.
Yes, you have.
In these barren wastes, far from the comforts offered by nomadic city-states, life itself is an endless war.
You have heard those very words before.
Those who have taken a different path.
"They are the conquerors of the wasteland, the avengers of civilization, the Catastrophe sweeping across the barrens. Let the land rumble as the Rusthammer drops." says the colossal warrior before you, a crude warhammer in her hands.
You return to your combat stance.
This time…
It's working.
It's working.
You realize the secret.
You've realized it.
Mental energy is not a limited resource. She corrects each flaw on her flesh without issue- but when you reduced her into a pulp, when she changed into that mutated gloompincer, her mental burden carried into the other form.
She can
still feel pain.
A Rusthammer warrior of such strength would not be trembling like this.
Your swordspear moves one more time.
Her hammer rises- and then falls.
A swing poised to crush you-
And a spear aimed to thrust through her heart-
They face each other-
And you realize… that you were
one second faster.
The point where your weapon meets her flesh explodes into a blast of light.
AND NOW… I CAN'T SEE SHIT, WHERE ARE MY GLASSES.
THERE'S TOO MUCH LIGHT.
OH, WAIT, IT'S DYING DOWN. STAY TUNED!
WAIT, DOES THIS COUNT AS A RULE VIOLATION? YOU KNOW, OBSCURING THE FIGHT?
NO, WAIT, APPARENTLY IT WAS JUST FROM MY ANGLE. EVERYONE ELSE WAS OK I GUESS.
AND SO…
AND NOW…
"Ughhh… I guess. I guess you've won this one." says the half-melted body in front of you.
Your breathing is ragged. Your arm is limp- that swing from that hammer broke it.
Your spear clatters to the ground. Your body is littered with wounds.
"...you know, I'm sorry for saying all of that about you and your sister. It was uncalled for." she continues. "Sorry."
You spit a glob of blood on the ground. It falls next to the hammer, which is currently in the process of dissolving.
"You cannot… you cannot reform anymore?" you say. "You don't seem harmed."
Linette chuckles. Her body is silvery, melting from the neck down, and everything below the waist is dissolved into a silvery puddle now. Only her head, with blonde hair tied in a ponytail, and her neck are firmly flesh.
"You… you're automatic, you know. It takes a lot of effort… mental fatigue racks up quickly if you're doing radical corrections to a damaged form. I could have slowly whittled you down, if you'd let me. But I couldn't handle the strain." she says. "Can you imagine how mentally exhausting it would be to use your will- your mind- to manually rebuild every single part of your body? It's that sort of strain to rebuild a shattered arm, a pummeled gloompincer body. I have to fix everything and then transform…"
You're…
You're sure she's lying, now.
"You could have won."
"...heh. Nah. It's too much work… I can't go from an undamaged body to a clean one. I can restore myself to my original state or to another form. If I'm damaged in one form I'll be damaged in the next, too."
"You are… a liar."
"That I am."
"And you were…"
She was…
"...trying to teach me something. You can still stand up, can't you? You can… still rise…"
She starts to laugh.
"You know, let's see if you can learn your lesson, Nearl! Know that you'll never win if you play their game! If you played mine, you'd lose, and you know it. But now? I give up, okay!" she screams. "
I surrender, everyone! Little miss Nearl here-
she won!"
You grit your teeth.
You…
You won.
But it's still not over.
SHE SURRENDERED?
SHE SURRENDERED! WELL, NOW…
I CAN SAFELY SAY.
THE WINNER IS-
THE WINNER IS-
THE RADIANT KNIGHT!
AFTER HER VICTORY AGAINST THE CANDLE KNIGHT, THE RADIANT KNIGHT WINS AGAINST THE FOE THAT MET THE BLACK KNIGHT TWICE! IT'S SMOOTH SAILING FROM HERE, I'M SURE!
Linette's body reconstitutes itself, and she drags it towards you, armor no longer shining, the mirrors now completely opaque.
You moves towards her…
And she stumbles.
You stumble, too.
She catches you in her arms.
"Heh… sorry. Sorry for all of it. Sorry for throwing my grudge with your uncle at you, okay?" she says. "Come on, let me heal you. Can I heal you?"
You grit your teeth.
You can't know what this even is. If it's false, if it's true, if it's a misdirection, a truth presented as lie. You can discern nothing.
An endless hall of mirrors, and the original form can no longer be perceived by your eyes.
Perhaps someone else will, but not you.
You nod to her.
The boy who cried wolf, indeed.
The sensation… bones do not knit themselves back into shape, as with healing Arts. It feels as if they "unbreak." It feels as if wounds are undone, not healed… It feels as if time is turned backwards. As if you're "restored to your proper shape."
You untangle yourself from her arms. She does not struggle.
Before the Major staff can come, you take a deep breath…
And you punch this Mirrored Knight in the face.
She collapses to the ground, and says nothing. You know she's still conscious.
You just lost twelve thousand on this.
God fucking damn it, Linette.
Okay, okay, there's got to be some reason for this. You have to do
something now.
[ ] Follow Nicole.
[ ] Go and see Linette.
[ ] Walk away.
[ ] Write in.
