6 Shadow's Counteroffensive

"High treason!" Zep bellowed, a mixture of anger and surprise apparent in his voice. More than a dozen attackers lay dead before him, some of them barely recognizable as corpses. It was an impressively successful blitz by the unidentified attackers, as Zep had lost a staggering fourth of his convoy. Such losses were catastrophic, as each Elite contract cost more than a year's tax from any zone in the empire. But the financial losses weren't what enraged him.

Unlike other men of power, Zep treated all under his service as comrades. Mikal, Darcy, and Nera had all served with him for years, and their deaths demanded immediate retribution. When Zep found the person responsible, he planned to personally choke the life out of him ... or her.

The enemy had struck with a powerful, coordinated attack. A large burst of flame caught his envoy while they attempted to shield themselves, and impacted with deadly precision. Nera was the first to spot the danger, and realized there was no time for warning. She dove apart from the rest of the group and erected a defensive ice barrier strong enough to slow yet not completely stop the blast. With her sacrifice, she saved most of the group from annihilation. But even as the Shadow's envoy snapped into defensive formation, a dozen blade masters trained for speed leapt from the smoke, and attacked the two still-leashed Riftborns. Even while shackled, the two fought valiantly, and with their fists and chains as weapons, they made short work of the sword-wielding enemies. Unfortunately, outnumbered and restricted, the male fell to the onslaught.

Had both Riftborns perished, Zep might have considered retreating, but the female was still very much unharmed. Taking a deep breath, he channeled a small amount of Otot through his body, and willed for lightning. A destructive burst of electricity forked out from his hand, and struck the remaining Riftborn square in the chest, activating the lock that held her restraints.

The creature shrugged it off as if nothing had happened. But a clicking noise signaled the beginning of the Shadow's counteroffensive. Chains unraveled and clinked to the ground around the Riftborn, revealing a slender yet toned woman garbed in pure black. She was covered from the neck down, and long black hair draped over her shoulders all the way to her waist. Her eyes were a piercing shade of blue, cold enough to extinguish fires.

"Neruby, attack," Zep commanded, and flipped a switch on his gas tank. A gentle hissing assured him the flow of gas had begun.

The Riftborn did not wait for Zep to finish the sentence. Without missing a beat, before the last chain even met the floor, she was already upon the first group of enemy. Her speed bedazzled her foes as she drove a hidden blade through the hearts of one soldier after another. With another flurry of blows, an entire kill squad of six lay dead. In a state of panic, an alchemist shot flames toward Neruby, but the stream simply dissipated before contact, and a quick strike put down the unfortunate soul.

With the enemy in a state of disarray, Zep and the Elite Alchemists began the combat routine rehearsed many times before. Most of the Otot in the surrounding air was consumed in the first attack by the assassins, but the Shadow's envoy was prepared with a supply of their own. Even without turning to look, Zep knew all of the Elite Alchemists were ready to strike. Spreading his arms wide, he channeled as much of the chemical as his body would allow, almost emptying his entire tank.

As Zep attacked, his fellow Elites mimicked the movements. All at once, they extended their hands forward, fingers spread apart. A tremendous lightning storm surged forth, and engulfed the traitorous assassins.

Zep's enemies turned out to be no pushovers either, as even amongst the chaos, defensive barriers began forming. Thanks to the sheer number advantage the assassins possessed, the electrical attack was stopped short a few feet from the impact. But the Shadow did not let up on the offense, and the channeling of lightning continued.

In a straight-up battle of alchemy, the defenders always have an advantage, but Zep's envoy was assembled purposefully to fight as a cohesive unit. The maelstrom of lightning was met with a solid defensive barrier that fused Otot with the moisture in the air to divert the power into the ground. But the tide would soon change.

Neruby shielded her eyes from the flash of light, but made no effort to avoid the electricity. She surged into motion once again, and crashed headfirst into the barrier. As she passed, the opening immediately mended itself behind her. Four blademasters attempted to intercept her, but were cut down effortlessly. Even before the bodies hit the ground, Neruby identified the alchemists responsible for the lightning shield. Without hesitation, without remorse, she leapt into the ranks.

With each alchemist she felled, the defense waned. As the twin blades snuffed out the life of the sixth Otot-wielder, the barrier gave way, and lightning consumed all life this end of the alley.

***

Hidden behind a barrel, Botyoc thought himself completely safe. Unfortunately, he underestimated the destructive potential of the Shadow's Envoy.

Botyoc felt himself blinded by the explosion of light followed by the death screams of soldiers. He had made sure to stay a safe distance away, but it did little to save his sight. The tremendous cracking noise echoed throughout the alleyway as sparks of electricity generated enough light to illuminate two blocks in every direction.

When he regained all of his senses a minute later, Botyoc realized the entire alley was unusually quiet, especially considering the amount of violence that must have just ensued. Mustering up enough courage to investigate, he moved toward the battlefield, to find that the Shadow and his surviving entourage had disappeared. All that was left was a site of complete carnage. Charred remains littered the alleyway as the pungent smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Gingerly, Botyoc stepped forward, his eyes searching for anything salvageable. There was no point looking for survivors, as it was obvious there would be none for him to find.

A glimpse of light caught his attention, and Botyoc moved closer to investigate. Reaching out, he tried to touch a warped alchemical weapon, and quickly recoiled in pain. The metal had heated up during the intense surge of electricity, and was searing to the touch. Frustrated, he eyed the prize, uncertain what to do next.

Having always been a boy who thinks on his feet, Botyoc began taking off his shirt, intending to use it to salvage the precious metals that would undoubtedly still fetch a good price.

"So eager to get naked in public?" a familiar voice teased from the end of the alley. Bocboc appeared from behind the corner, flanked by an entire entourage of Bacunawa. The enforcer let out a loud whistle. "This is your handiwork no doubt; pretty impressive, B. Pretty damn impressive," he mocked, clapping lazily.

Botyoc quickly pulled the shirt back on over his head.

The group of Bacunawa behind Bocboc rapidly fanned out and began sifting through the site of the battle, a dozen pairs of gloved hands digging into the charred remains.

"It took you a while to get here," Botyoc commented, straightening his shirt.

"And you are too stupid to stay away. Our trackers reported on the Elites' movements the moment they entered the zone; we just had too much common sense to get this close," Bocboc retorted, pointing at Botyoc. All around him, flashes of metallic gleam quickly flickered as the scavengers picked up and pocketed the parts with efficiency. The Bacunawa took several steps toward Botyoc, but stopped at arm's length. Reaching out, he pinched the Sigben's bicep. "Still got a long way to go, kid," he declared, shaking his head in disapproval.

Botyoc shook off his friend's hand. "I'm older than you."

A scavenger gracefully stepped up behind Bocboc, and tapped the bigger boy on the shoulder. The two broke into a quiet exchange. Botyoc stood by and watched in silence, as it wasn't a bright idea to intrude on the affairs of other gangs. Especially since his presence at this site could be considered an act of aggression. According to the pact between the gangs, the Bacunawas would have proper cause to get violent, since the site was within Bacunawa territory, and Botyoc did not receive their patriarch's blessing.

Certain that with whatever was going on, he would have a few moments to himself, Botyoc took the chance to mull over the events. The battle that just happened was undoubtedly triggered by political reasons. But why was such an elite company heading south, led by one of the most powerful men in the nation?

Looking around, he was forced to admit to himself that he envied the combat prowess of the Shadow. Although the man had the help of eight other elites, the sheer destructive force of the lightning blast was unbelievable.

Among the exterminated assassins there had been other alchemists doing their best to shield themselves, yet the result was still numerous smoldering corpses.

That was the kind of power Botyoc wanted, the kind of power he needed to change the world.

"Don't hurt yourself thinking," Bocboc interrupted his musing. The enforcer had finished his little conference, and the scavengers dispersed in all directions. Now he stood grinning at Botyoc while toying with something metal in his right hand. "They weren't happy to see someone from another gang at such a treasure trove."

Botyoc snickered. "What are you going to do, kill me?"

"They want me to search you to make sure you didn't pocket anything," Bocboc admitted. "And if you are wondering, they ran away just in case a fight breaks out."

"That's pretty stupid; you shouldn't fight me without backup," Botyoc attempted to dismiss casually, but he found his fist tightening, and his body preparing for battle. As much as the two orphans shared an understanding, and maybe even friendship, the highest loyalty was always to the gang. Had Anjat commanded it, Botyoc would strike down Bocboc despite his personal feelings. Maybe this was the moment he would have to kill a friend.

Killing wasn't something Botyoc shied away from, as mercy wasn't a luxury the orphans could afford. Violence was simply another part of life on the streets. He had been only eight when it first became necessary to take the life of another child. Granted, it was in self-defense, but Botyoc never felt good about it. Over time, the body count had slowly but steadily added up. But sometimes, when he was alone, the voices of the dead haunted him, whispering his name. Could he ever sleep again? Hearing Bocboc's voice calling out to him in the middle of the night?

A metal projectile flew toward him, and reflexively, Botyoc caught it with his hands. Quickly, he gritted his teeth in anticipation, and clenched his fists. His heels dug into the ground behind him, and his thighs and calves tensed up, ready to push off in an instant to propel his body forward in a full sprint. But as Botyoc looked up to seek out a weak spot, Bocboc was standing completely still, grinning with a look of intense satisfaction.

The Bacunawa laughed heartily. "Wow, you are really uptight." Bocboc picked his nose casually. "Geez."

Botyoc stood upright, embarrassed, but still attempted to salvage some pride. He opened his palm to examine the projectile. "This?" Botyoc's eyebrows perked up in surprise.

"Something to keep you motivated," the Bacunawa said dismissively, and flicked his booger onto the ground.

Botyoc stood speechless as he cupped the Academy Sigil in his palm. Whatever material it was made from, the shape had not changed at all from the powerful alchemical blast. The Ivy Leaf remained as bright and beautiful as ever.

"That could be us one day; we'll have the power to do that," Bocboc exclaimed, pointing to the carnage with hopeful eyes.

Botyoc looked at his friend with uncertainty. Does he realize how close we were to fighting to the death?

Bocboc turned back, and their eyes met. It was then that Botyoc realized there was no doubt the two of them were on the same page. Should push come to shove, neither would hold back.

Bocboc patted his pockets, which made sounds of metal rattling. "I got a couple more; amazing how many people died to take out just a few Elite Alchemists." Without sparing a glance, the Bacunawa enforcer began leaving down the other end of the alley. "See you in two months, my friend. I'll be ready, and I expect you to be, too." He paused for a moment to glance back. "And you should probably get out of here. The army will arrive at any moment." With that, the enforcer disappeared behind a corner.

Botyoc turned the Sigil over in his hand, and then took his friend's advice. As the boy sprinted home, he tucked the prize under his shirt.