53 Chapter 52: BR-eak Them (IV) ~Interlude

The hours passed by as the rays of the sun waned into a pitiful violet that soon sputtered out. Streams of blood flowed down a hardened mixture of sun and blood, the red cup spilling forth cumbersome lifeblood into small rivers. Cold moonlight danced off of metallic scraps, though the reflected cold gleam was interrupted by the light of campfire.

Each side's forces had mutually receded back into their own camps, regrouping for the fight that would rise with the sun on the morrow. The Hook and Shield were no different, returning to the crevice from whence they came. To the soldiers on the field, however, they disappeared like wraiths, the chill of their own fear further cementing this notion.

Rumors were rampant among the camps, each one talking about different things. The scientists were concerned about the emergence of Ulun Frederick, who had fled them prior to his own wife becoming a mere reagent to the inquisitive science centric Renthians of the east. The treatise on Hook Theory sustained their ability as a kingdom-scaled power, the paper itself allowing them to 'hook' in light and warp it into malleable weapons and devices. It would not be difficult to proclaim him as one of the very people who made them what they were.

Some thought he was dead. Some are now very much aware that he is alive. And now that such an illustrious man has turned against them...

Their very skin quivered at the idea, the trembling causing even their blood to vibrate slightly. The sharp tang of metal wafted into their noses before intensifying, and they could picture an illusory picture of the man, eyes lit aglow as his plentiful anger led him to imbrue himself in the dark red liquid staining his lab coat...

The more levelheaded of the scientists were simply bitter at the loss of several accidents, their fighting forces diminished by a good ten percent. With clenched jaws and bitten nails they paced, steps layering over each other as they sprinkled down on the floors of complex tents.

Not even Voc and Umim were spared from the rumor bidden frezy, each pondering over their own concerns as they summoned their forces for a roll call. The hover boots shone incandescently as they floated above the ground, arms bound over their chests, and the flickering sparks falling from the tipped beam of their laser spears.

The mercenary camp, however, were exchanging similarly fervid and panicked talks of the Pincushion and the Weapon Breaker. No matter the creed they aligned under, they each shared their perspectives on the two that hewed into their forces as if they were nothing but chaff.

The former was Domingo, and he was dubbed as such for his proclivity to surrender his body to the sharp bites of weapons, bearing what would be fatal wounds for the normal man. He struck crazily with gleeful abandon plastered across his face, as if he was an incarnation of a demihuman ghost possessing the body of those hated humans who repeatedly culled their people.

Though not even fellow demihumans were spared, the more superstitious of their kin were ashamed. They took it as an act of betrayal to work for the humans, which was why that man struck them down all the same. Their conjectures were correct in the fact that Domingo couldn't care less, and that was really all that mattered.

The Weapon Breaker, however, was also recognized as a demihuman. The unnatural strength and beauty the kid possessed was unnerving on its own, but the smiling blue violet lips and curved, beaming eyes while he smashed their weapons and liberally partook in violence as he dyed himself in crimson hues was downright bone chilling. The fact that some mercenaries couldn't escape due to his speed and the strange suction force he emitted caused them to believe he was royalty, as the powers were so numerous, it felt as if there were strong bloodline ties within him.

Regardless, they couldn't back down and flee. Both sides of the Fracois Frontline were gated by the Renthians of either faction, and they wouldn't take kindly to armed forces approaching them at night. Or taking their money and fleeing. Or maybe even worse...running into those tireless two once again.

The mages were having a much better time of it, witnessing minimal losses in the first slirmish. Titha and Totha calmly pored over their tomes as they waited for the next day, not even bothering to reorganize their forces. The mages were already aware of the plan, after all, or at least their roles within it.

Ulun, Uris, Bie, and Domingo all leaned against the cavernous passage of the cave, the walls high yet seemingly hidden amongst the rocky outcropping it was situated within. Only the light of Ulun's cigarette dimly lit the area, three of them already done washing off their brownish reddish caked apparel. Domingo made no efforts to clean himself p, instead fiddling around with the bone katana known as The Septum's Desire.

Uris breathed in the smoky plumes intermittently as they filled the caverns, while Bie held Ekulech in his lap while he was meditating. Within his Inner World, the hand ax's imprint glowed rhythmically, as if it was making an attempt to communicate with Bie. White dust spread from Bie's spirit body as he grasped the imprint, bringing it near various structures in the nexus of his world to see if it would respond.

The hand ax hummed quietly, not changing its pattern whatsoever. Bie shrugged, dropping it while walking up to some of the floating orbs lighting up the atmosphere. He reached out to them, wondering how exactly he would be able to access their power, while the coruscating orbs he directed his hand towards floated over before enclosing around it in a half spiral. Nothing else happened, so Bie simply let them go and wandered around, not noticing the spheres follow after him as he walked.

He arrived at the band of light with white healing patterns revealing themselves every so often, surrounding a campfire that was a lot smaller than it. Similar stubby white crosses glinted as they traveled upwards within the crackling white flames, the yellow kinder unmoving under the nonexistent heat.

Bie noticed that every so often the band would show another pattern, underneath he normal appearance as if it was a layer lower. It was a set of almost touching runes resembling shackles that rotated along slowly, each revolution seemingly stirring something within the Guide. He couldn't really put his finger on what, though, and so he brought up his free dusty white hand and propped it under his chin.

Outside, nobody spoke, not even Domingo babbled. They were waiting, also keeping the sound low so as not to draw the attention of any bigshots spanning the terrain just over.

Ulun was deep in thought, considering how he would make the commanders of each side show their faces. If he could just take them out, wiping out their forces would be a breeze. Finally, he'd be a step closer to getting his revenge, the venting he did on the battlefield was honestly just a bonus.

Still, he slowly brought his irises towards Uris's direction, casting a sidelong gaze at her as she kept in breathing in the hazy gas streaming out of his lips. He wondered if she was really done hiding for now...

Or forever. He spat out a thin outpour of air as he ruminated over the future of his one and only daughter.