Magical Girl Escalation Taylor (Worm/Nanoha)

Meltdown 7.x

Sunday, May 15
Kharkiv, Ukraine
Sighing as yet more blood got on his hands, Epoch picked up a cloth and froze the grabby cape laying on the cot. This was one of many reasons he preferred not to be involved in Endbringer fights. They were messy, dangerous things, with a high chance of death and utterly no possibility of getting anything of benefit. Well, perhaps not 'no' possibility, he amended as he flicked a glance at another cape from whom he felt the distinctive tingle of magical potential, but exceedingly little.

At that moment the echo of his power on that possible future recruit faded, and the boy in knight's armor screamed anew as he reached into the boy's soul and flipped the hourglass contained within. Blood slurped back into deep gashes and skin regained its color. One and a half seconds of noise, and the boy passed out yet again. Exactly the same as it had been all the other times he threw the cape into that ten-second loop. He knew why the assembled capes wanted him here. So long as his 'patients' did not truly die the first time around, he could keep them trapped in a never-ending cycle of agony.

Epoch glanced at the healers bustling around him and kept his frustrations to himself. The capes were all working with grim efficiency, but even with him reversing and stopping time and the young hero with the clock costume freezing the most critically injured, the dead and dying just kept piling up. Behemoth had not earned the title of 'Herokiller' for nothing, but that alone did not justify all the casualties flooding in. What in the world was going on out there?

He narrowed his eyes and pictured the only other Adept who had chosen to join him; insisted on joining him, rather, despite knowing it would surely reveal her new allegiance to her former allies. Plain brown hair, sharp cheekbones, too much eyeshadow, a couple of pock marks on her forehead. A few more prods and her face snapped into place in his mind's eye with all the detail of a photograph. Another cape returning to her proper place in time distracted him, but his connection was already sufficiently established that reversing her did not break the spell. Thirteenth Hour, he all but shouted in his head.

«…what…» the other Adept's voice whispered back.

«What's happening?»

There was silence for several long moments before her reply finally made it through. «…attacking Behe… swatting… away… …iendly fire… no one…»

Their connection sputtered and broke, but he took some comfort in how it only fizzled out. This felt exactly the same as all the other times Thirteenth Hour's telepathic ability failed, and while they could not know with certainty that it would feel different if she died, he was going to assume so unless he saw a body.

It was times like this that he wished he had the same predilection for telepathy that his newest recruit did, but that was not the case. He had actually given up that possibility as a pipe dream until she started showing promise for it. She was the single magician within their cabal who could use true telepathy, in fact, even if he and Maclibuin could make themselves audible to her with effort. Sadly, she had shown little talent for anything else.

This was why Calamity Witch was such a promising find.

The grabby cape and her neighbor popped back into real time, and Epoch's eye twitched before he shoved his hand into his pocket to wrap around his watch. The storm of power trapped between bronze and spring screamed at him as it tried to rush into him, furious at being contained. It wanted out.

He was too practiced in working with Maclibuin's spell, however, and he forced the power to trickle out slowly. A stern blink, and the two capes were once more frozen in place. He looked around him again and forced his shoulders to relax. The healers were so busy that no one would notice if these two remained trapped for twenty seconds rather than his usual ten. Nor, he decided after drawing out a little more power, would they notice if the knight's condition improved just a little bit as he was rewound by fifteen seconds this time.

Epoch withdrew his hand before he could give into the temptation to use up more of his limited enhancement. The more power contained within a single object, the harder it was to increase it farther, and the ability he had purchased from Cauldron was a thirsty one indeed. Even with all the rituals performed on his grandfather's pocket watch, he had perhaps two minutes of additional time at his disposal. Not enough to change the fate of anyone here, and that alone was reason to keep from tapping into it. A few seconds here and there he could spare, but he could not waste the charm's power frivolously.

Thirteenth Hour's telepathy. Maclibuin's rituals. His levitation and now projectiles. All of them products of grueling, time-consuming work, and one witch had shamed their trials without even knowing it. How had Calamity Witch, a hero who had been around for only a few months, figured out the secrets of magic in such a short span of time when he had been working on doing the same since he was sixteen? Was she the child of magicians and so had learned it at her parents' knees? Had she stumbled upon another magician and been apprenticed? Was she simply some sort of prodigy, a genius for whom magic sat up and begged?

It was infuriating and depressing and exciting, all at the same time. If she could be convinced to teach them, to part with the mysteries of her craft? Oh, it would be glorious. She had been undecided on whether or not to take him up on his offer, and he had hoped that giving her space to consider it would lead her to calling. Unfortunately, that was not what had happened. The days had come and gone, and still they had heard nothing.

Her silence was the sole reason he was here. She had not called, and he remembered how poorly she had reacted to Planeswalker's visit. He would have to speak to her in person, but that alone was not terrible. He was sure he could sway her to work with them if they spoke face to face again, and as though to spit on his efforts, she had not shown up. Now he was stuck dealing with all the casualties of the fight being laid at his feet for nothing.

A cape in a white cloak finally reached his little quartet of patients and laid her hands on the knight. Only a few seconds passed before she pulled away. "There. He can't rejoin the—"

An explosion roared somewhere close, and the tent shook from its fury. "That was the command center!" shouted one of the less seriously injured capes. Rime? Frost? Some ice generator, anyway. "All healers with me! Clockblocker, you too! Epoch, keep these people stable!"

The crowd of healers rushed out the door, and he swept his eyes over the horde of wailing capes. They expected him to keep all these people looped or frozen in time while they left to pile even more in front of him? And as if on cue, the stupid heroine snapped out of her freeze and got ahold of his robes to smear yet more blood on them.

"Great."


Frost Beam learned.

Not at all how I expected Epoch's character to go, but I'll go with it.

After three weeks without interacting with the Adepts, it's time to make a choice. Are you interested in talking to them and teaching them about magic?
[ ] Yes – Epoch will call in 8.1, and you'll promise to help the Adepts when things calm down a little. You will keep your word, and I will force the issue if you don't do so quickly enough on your own.
[ ] No – You tell Epoch that you have decided not to help. Any potential mages in the Adepts will be lost to you forever. There won't be any other penalties, though.

No write-ins for this vote. It is a binary choice.