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Fantasy Astral Synthetica: Evernight Conflict - Volume 1

Astral Synthetica: Evernight Conflict
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In an effort to reverse the apocalypse that ended civilizations across the world, six soldiers with special talent and abilities are sent 4,000 years into the past to learn about the fall of the previous civilization and prevent the advent doom of Terra. Wielding the power of three Syntheticas and three anomalies born from the phenomena of the world, failure to avert the course of history will lead to the eventual destruction of the world.
Volume 1-1: Prologue
PROLOGUE
「 End of the Prejudicial War 」⠀Mount Herula, Terra
The colossal outburst of unnatural energy devastated the Aegean Islands into the pure void, forever marking the beginning of mankind's impending annihilation. With cinder occupying the choking air and the ashes of the searing flesh corrupting the seas and land across the area, the United Nations of Terra held their first emergency meeting in history to discuss the countermeasure against the foreign threat, globally coming to accept their priorities by combing the national powers for the purpose of eliminating the threat that had rendered the archipelago of Greece nonexistent.

The unnatural explosion left no residue on both land and air, adding layers of difficulty into the studies conducted by the combined military forces of Terra. For days onward progress seemed to have not been made, as only time moved forward without reward, further aggravating the investigating officials for a significant amount of time. However, as doom approached silently from the depths of the center volcano of the Aegean Islands, on August 6th, 1032 of the Kalaris Calander, a single entity of complicated facial features liberated itself into the skies, proudly flaunting its demonic flaming wings in the air, remaining idle for a mere moment, until all accessible communication to the investigation unit was lost. On the same day when a report was filed regarding an otherworldly figure rising from the volcano, the world panicked as news began to spread like a wildfire across the many civilizations, injecting eternal unrest on the societies as the UNT refused to collaborate with the general public.

Scorching rivers soon engulfed southeastern Europe in mere hours, further worsening the consternation of the people. The central government of UNT refused to elaborate until the western societies were at severe risk of danger, as the Euclidians manically crossed the seas with ample bloodlust for more terror, providing no warning to its debris of navy that was decimated quicker than the United Nations had perceived. With their plans to mitigate the damages and retrieve the corpses of the perpetrators for private research being completely thrown out the window, the United Nations commenced their first global emergency since its establishment, as each country retreated their soldiers from foreign soil to defend their home from the threat.

Chaos ensued without much difference. The destruction caused by these entities of pure malice had only just begun as they transformed into the beasts of terror, learning to play with their trinkets by eradicating the human race through brutal mutilations. In between these times, humanity did not remain idle but instead focused on weapons technology that would aid against the foreign invasion, later developing Anti-Euclidian technologies and deploying their trained Synthetica wielders on their first operation: to eliminate the Euclidian threat and save humanity once and for all.

Alas, the insurmountable efforts and costs put into nurturing these supersoldiers would mean nothing, as humanity's numbers dwindled faster than the amount of bloodied dog tags being retrieved from the battlefield, further insinuating that mankind no longer could rely on hope, but instead pray to their theoretical maker for salvation and forgiveness. And in mere years of the harrowing cataclysm and families being split apart in disarray, Mount Herula prevailed until the last of its day, harboring the remnants of mankind's survivors and the three remaining wielders of the five Syntheticas.

••


PRESENT
Adversity was no stranger to the Synthetica warriors as they were once again gasping in immense pain below the grandstanding Euclidian, whose wings had gifted them the capabilities of gravity nullification and essentially, flight. Their wings spread wide in the atmosphere to assert their absolute dominance over the three warriors, the fighting had only lasted for several minutes, but the battle between the two sides had long been conclusive before their arrival. Not a single injury or even a scratch could be seen on the Euclidian lieutenant, her cackle being the only characteristic that could be noticed, though such was expected from the Euclidians that was capable of speech.

Death was imminent with their injured bodies. Astrid's armor was near its destruction and Fredrich's endurance could no longer tolerate the severe energetic pressure of the Euclidian floating above them. Amaryllis had already exhausted their vitality and their stamina could no longer provide them the strength to at least escape from the inevitable. The sound of the dooming slaughter of the common soldiers could be heard from miles away, as the monstrosities ripped them to shreds like mere insects, once again causing a gruesome scene over the pale snow of Mount Herula.

The snow beneath their feet was dyed red, a clear indication that the last warriors had finally decided to take their last breath.

As the giant skull of the deceased serpent resting next to the Euclidian made its move to deliver the final blow, humanity's remaining forces took arms and launched their artilleries against the ginormous skeletal serpent and temporarily blinded its vision for the others to arrive, rescuing the warriors and preventing their final moments from occurring. Though moderately heavier than the average person due to the implanted Synthetica that had increased their muscle weight, the three soldiers entrusted with the rescue operation made haste towards the gated entrance of the snowy mountain, caring not for their already drained stamina until they miraculously disembarked from the battlefield without receiving critical injuries other than light wounds from shrapnels.

The struggle continued, fate indifferent to even a second of a breather. With great haste, Sieghardt undid his helmet and mask to recline against the cave walls, unbothered by the flickering emergency lights and the inconsistent shaking from above, caused by the destruction and inhumane warfare. "We need to return to the operations room, now! We don't have any more strength to buy time for them to prepare the device!" Sieghardt shouted and helped Astrid back on her feet, having tossed her arms around his shoulders for extra support. "This is our last chance at redemption. Find courage and push forward when it matters the most—all of you!"
 
Mount Herula, Terra
Fredrich Alexander
Skypiercer
Male
27
Fredrich
Feet planted, future set, probabilities dealt with and swept away, only to let loose one last bolt to prove, once and for all, whether the future was theirs or not. Whether things could change, or if they were doomed to fall, eternally. From his hip, a magazine of sharpened scrap, cut and fashioned, until the shape of a thickened needle could be seen in them. With these, he would test it, that which loomed amidst the darkened sky, sickened with flame, fume, and the carrion of civilization, the cape of the Euclidean before them. Who were they proving their flight to, these discount fairies? They certainly did not look intimidating, flying like idiots, and masquerading angels. He thought, surprising even himself, as the enemy grew closer, and he stood, isolated from the others as per their battle tactics, far to their rear.

No wonder he wasn’t afraid when he had seen them for the first time. They looked like nerds, he thought, loosened from any obligation in the future. Freed from the struggle, relaxed and at last, relieved. Soon, it would be over. Let others struggle more, his obligations would end shortly: dying, unfortunately, just before being rescued. The humanity, ah, how unfortunate it must be for them, he humoured, as he gazed at his two equals, two people more than guaranteed to be rescued before himself, in the furthest yonder. Visible only through the aberrant pauses in otherwise gale-strength winds, ferrying loose snow in quantities resembling the fog of distant Brevet, during the second harvesting season, the time when the deeproot had ripened, and festivities would brew.

He recalled, in these moments before the downfall, before his own engagement with a foe he knew, both in thought and bored to the very centre of his dejected basal ganglia, was undefeatable. None of that hope shared by those younger, and less experienced remained in any ounce of himself, and so, he recalled his younger days.

He smiled, defeated, and surprised. He had climbed his mountain, at last. At least one dream, in the very least, was fulfilled. And with that strength, he tried fate. Maybe, things could change. He loosened his grip on his death, and prepared to initiate battle, as he always does.

His left hand, swept across his side, and briefly touched his most prized magnet, neatly contained within his pockets, and reached for a scrap piece. Once found, he levelled against his shoulder, strutting against the ashen snow’s waste, and threw, electricity reaching towards the world from each and every fibre of his body, from each hair, and each limb, as he projected all which he contained into one meteoric lance to pierce, penetrate, and devastate.

The snow melted, instantly, in the wake of the bolt which now flew, against the Euclidean, with unmeasurable speed. Perhaps his best throw yet. It crackled against the world, screamed and roared against the night, and split left from right, the heaven from the earth, hope from despair. It drew a line within reality visible from far away, it’s destination true: an assured hit.

The winds paused beneath it, as a hole within it allowed his own eyes to see the Euclidean through the storm, and, he felt, that he locked eyes with it. And as he did, the sparks paused, his power checked, his stamina endured, as he knew that this one throw would not be enough.

It fell flat, it’s path bent by whatever force was contained within Euclideans, and instead of piercing it, it flew against the heavens, and fell dead in the furthest distance, having ‘miraculously’ missed. Obviously, it should not have missed. He thought, as his lance pierced nothing but the air, and the wind. “Miss,” he called out, calmly, against the communications channel. An unbroken custom, even during the precipice of the end, when it came to fighting the Euclideans. Their gravity control, simply, too overpowering. There was no chance, he realised, as he reached for yet another, and prepared himself, mentally, to endure yet another battle.

Maybe their inherent electrical output, domineering, and overpowering for him, as a wielder of the Raijou, assisted in nullifying his soaring lance. He had thought about it for great lengths, over the years, but never bothered to care as the war dragged on. Consumed, instead, by the misery of those who remained. The mass of human suffering proved too great for him to dismiss. And so he wrestled with torment in silence.

He reached for another scrap, as the battle began, and instinct took over, as he was subsumed within himself, and allowed actions to take shape, and occur, without conscious effort.

One throw, to pierce the heavens, and one throw to fail.

Another, to shatter the skies, only to bounce off and accomplish nothing.

A fourth, to end this struggle, and devastate the devastating, and a fourth to accentuate the meaninglessness of living.

He began to breathe heavily, as the Euclidean advanced closer, and he could hear the sounds of Astrid, and Amaryllis engaging it through their own means. The aura drained his every muscle of strength, but even so, his instincts carried him forward.

A fifth, to swear and ridicule, and a fifth, which swore and ridiculed him.

His sweat accumulated, and froze in instants beneath the weight of the weather where mankind had fled, the last holdout, fittingly, was as inhospitable as the Euclideans themselves. Proving, once again, the extent to which he had been driven. The extent to which he must endure, to once again accomplish nothing. To once again mean nothing.

He could not comprehend the minds of those who saw a future beyond the end. What would such exploits mean, when in truth, nothing meant anything before these creatures? He saw himself in people such as Corbin, diligent and upright. Not to mention Sieghardt, who made him ache to hear, for in him he saw his own hopeful self. What did they have that he did not, when they were so alike himself, way back when? Perhaps, they did not have anything special, nothing to distinguish themselves from him, and had simply not felt the defeats as he had, oblivious of reality as he had been.

Perhaps, that was the case.

As he thought, and turned left and right within his mind, he had already performed an innumerable amount of attacks, to no end. There was nothing different. His last bout of willfulness, hopeful, cracked and tossed aside, much like the dead, rotting as most did in some far off field, littering the landscape, burned metallic tombs to which the charred remains find their resting place. Vast fleets, warships, strewn about the bottoms of boundless seas, now far distant.

Just like him, now, would be.

His strength long since drained. His last throws, thrown without strength, without power, draining the last pool of his every fibre. He had spoken words over the radio, to coordinate, and to react, in accordance with his mission. But he, truthfully, did not remember any of it.

All he remembered was the biting chill, the frostbite which, any moment now, would cage him in immobility, and the stranglehold which the aura of the Euclidean held over his heart: beats irregular. Sweat frozen still, icicles glued to his skin beneath his once warm clothes now bathed in chill. Perhaps the Euclidean had toyed with them for seconds, perhaps hours, perhaps minutes; he could not tell, it was hopeless all the same, no reason to check.

“I’m done,” he said, mellowed and drained, his voice hoarse and refrained, his eyes difficult to maintain. His gaze fogged, shrouded, and waning, and so, he said, for the last time, to his team: “best of luck,” a parting gift, as his knee gave out, and he fell against the floor.

Subconsciously he reached for more scrap, but he had been emptied long ago. And so, in his last moments, atmospheric, and meaningful in it’s pointlessness, he retrieved and held onto his magnet, hand shaking, and arm weak. His flickering gaze affixed upon its splendour, as it levitated upon his palm briefly, before his pool was ultimately drained of everything, and fell against the snow.

He laughed once, before his throat gave out. Surely, the other two Synthetica were far better off, after all, the electromagnetic interference from the Euclideans typically meant that he would be the first one to fall, were they to simply get closer. And, since he stood against the walls, he had nowhere to flee to than where he now kneeled.

“I should have really fooled the chef for a goodbye meal,” he thought, as he thought his last moments were upon him, and his struggle had ended.

But in that moment, as his mind wandered, and his essence faded, he felt something touch him before he fell unconscious.

As he awoke, he did so before an altar built like a machine, roaring into activity, and glowing in innumerable shades. A strange afterlife, he reckoned, as he tried to move, but failed in anything besides rising to his knee. He heard the voices of familiar tones, but could not make them out, so naturally, he reckoned whatever emergency procedure had been undertaken had equally failed, as all things did.

But then he recognized the altar, and the tones, and the words, and frustration bellowed in his throat, as he came to his feet, at just the time where Sieghardt and Astrid entered the sanctum. He knew exactly what was happening. He knew exactly what had been done. And, with the last bit of his strength, he kicked a pebble- or perhaps debris, he could truly not tell- against the wall.

He looked at the others in silence, then upon the device, simply awaiting Sieghardt’s guaranteed address. He knew he would not be silent for long, especially in situations like this. He wanted an explanation for why he had been dragged back into this fruitless quest for something, an unnamed thing, which would bring victory, and dispel defeat. Obviously, it did not exist. Obviously, it was impossible. Obviously, whatever this machine could do, it would be pointless.

Obviously, this life, saved, was merely more time to wallow in the pain acquired by a life spent in defiance of an inevitable fate.

But, he let go of that.

He let go of his anger, and his hate, and his desire to strangle them all with what ounce of miserable effort he had left.

“Guess you worked it out,” he said, calmly, and with grit, appearing, to others, like there was fight in him yet. His words pointed, accentuated, in a manner to insinuate that he deserved his own position, his own rank. But, obviously, he did not. He was not worthy, of them saving him, of fighting, of the fate he was given; the fate he had earned.

“So, what’s next?”

He finished, reaching for his magnet.

It was not there, for in fact, it remained upon the frozen hellscape outside.

He clasped his fist as it shook.

“This thing can help us win, can it not?”
 
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Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Amaryllis Evenings
Silverlight Noblesse
Female
25
Amaryllis

Thirteen years since the technology was there. Ten years since the war had begun. All leading up to this moment, a moment where once again, their attacks were futile, their efforts for naught. But solace persisted even then, for the Euclidians were still far from the greatest threats in the world. So many years passed, the motherland drowned in the blood of her children, the fatherland reduced to infertile desert, landscape paintings of hells both hot and cold, and yet, still 200,000 people breathed and thought, dreamed and fought. Curled up in some small corner of the great mountain, for warmth and for comfort. Pushing through infirmaries, distributing care even when the conquest will conclude before recovery. And puzzling, puzzling, puzzling, over the conundrum of their trump card.

The Euclidians, omnipotent and arrogant, took thirteen years to do what humanity could in thirteen minutes, and yet they floated around like facsimiles of angels when their wings were mere ornaments and their bodies were just humans. Sinful, pitiful creations, seeking nothing but the ruination of a civilization that had cracked open a gate towards forbidden knowledge.

Yes, it was with pity that Amaryllis faced them.

The wonders of the world were turned to dust, and with it followed the life of the world too. She had overheard the leadership, after all, knew of how their final act of defiance would manifest. Through the hellfire of collapsing creation, the trophy of the Heralds would be a charred lump of a space rock, no more different than any other lifeless planet. Hope was long gone for those in power, and what remained in the ruins of their ambition and dreams was merely vengeance and pleasure, craven desires only distracted momentarily by their latest gambit, their final gambit.

In the heavens above, shrouded from mortal gaze by plumes of smoke and the stench of blood, the deities rolled their dice and tallied their scores, abuzz with platitudes and parables. On those plains below, men and women died for no purpose but to tempt the sadism of unconquerable behemoths, delaying the Euclidian advance by seconds at a time. Pained screams, suppressed prayers. Whispers and deathrattles. The hot winds ushered departed souls up and up, final words caught in her ears. The price of time was paid for in blood, and only a few rare souls could pay that price without losing their life.

You’re not one of them.

That, she knew.

Beside her, Phoenix burned. Behind her, Raijou aimed. And somewhere else, Hydra and Basilisk prepared. When only three Synthetica were sent to face the Euclidian Lieutenant, it was obvious what was to happen. They would buy time, so their comrades would be able to play that final card in humanity’s hand. Time, always time. Amaryllis held her Silverlight tight, the thrumming of a collapsing world matching the beating of her heart. With this, she could make a common Euclidian bleed, and that had been with just five years. What if she had ten more? Twenty more? Freedom to focus on her mastery of Cerberus, freedom to rest well, eat well, and think well. To pass on all this knowledge to the next inheritor of the abyssal Synthetica.

A cut would become a slash. A slash a wound. A wound an amputation. And once you reached that, you could take their heads.

Yes, there was that pity. Pity that beneath their imperious gloating, their delusions of invincibility, the Euclidiens fought as they did because they knew they’d die. That alone was enough for Amaryllis to smile. That alone allowed her amethyst eyes to shine upon the mountain slopes. Her opponent could not be harmed by the Silverlight as it was.

That was fine. The world had yet to end. Her hopes will be entrusted to her absent comrades. And Cerberus would allow her will to surpass even death. What then, did she have to fear?

“The beauty of the moon, the grace of the bloom. Beneath the azure firmament, I present myself. Amaryllis Evenings, Knight of Rose!"

Sword leveled, muscles taut, eyes locked upon the bobbing throat of her foe.

"May the flower of your heart take root within my Silverlight.”

And thus, the first of one hundred and ninety-seven seconds began, a sliver of a dimension following in the wake of heavenly lightning.

.

..



So why was she here?

Standing beside Astrid and Friedrich, bloodied and beaten after a session with a training dummy, watching a machine spin and whirl, surrounded by hollowed-out hearts and condemned mortals, rescued and burdened by those who the UNT considered disposable. One half of her vision was gone. Her hearing was blocked. Blood loss made her thoughts woozy, floaty. Her functioning eye scanned the room slowly.

Three present. Two absent.

So it was the two who could restore civilization were to remain, and the three who were only good for violence were to be sent off on the last mission. Her eye settled upon Friedrich, the man as serious and rigid as always, carved of stone and as brittle as it. An uncharacteristic question. Perhaps they were all tired. Perhaps she too could act just a little out of character.

Amaryllis let out a sigh, her shoulders loosening as her lungs emptied out the last bit of air she had held onto. Chromatic brilliance seared afterimages into her retina, the many pains of her body crying out with the many more voices in her mind.

Ok, she was done.

“Ah, and would someone here possibly have a functioning camera? It would be worthwhile, I believe, to commemorate this moment, so we could share in the merriment of how much we’ve changed once we return with…”

The power they needed? The knowledge they needed?

“…the bounty that more time will have granted us.”

Never shaken by doubt, never shackled by failure, never quaking beneath the burdens or hesitating at the boundary. Amaryllis stood as she always did, head high, chest out, sword in hand and gaze straight forward. A smile persisting upon her bloodless lips.

But it would be nice, if Nikos and Jean-Marie were here too.
 
Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Corbin Marino
Insolent Wrath
Male
22
Corbin


"Marino! Get your scrawny ass over here!"

Contrary to popular belief, Corbin Marino could not, in fact, bilocate. Whenever he was on the battlefield, especially when engaged in his unofficial capacity as glorified errand boy- running messages or moving equipment and personnel at the behest of whatever officer happened to be nearby- someone always needed him someplace other than where he was. Like now, for instance, as the Sergeant's exasperation attested.

At the moment, he had just returned from delivering yet more wounded and dying soldiers to the infirmary, his uniform stained with blood- most of it, not his own. This was the sort of thing that was always getting him in trouble. His commanding officers would insist that his abilities were wasted on helping the wounded, and that he should instead leave them to others and focus on helping them hold back the advance. Still, whenever he had a moment to spare, he kept bringing them, even when all the beds were filled and they needed to commandeer civilian quarters, even when the medics shook their heads and told him they couldn't handle any more, even when he had to line them up in corridors and storage rooms. At the very least, they could die with some dignity, safe from being trampled in the chaos or mauled by that giant snake from hell. The higher-ups' logic was sound, but Corbin could never bring himself to stop. Yes, eventually, they would all die anyway. But what kind of attitude was that? At any moment, it could be any one of them, lying there. How would they feel then? If there ever came such a dire juncture where caring for the wounded and dying was deemed worthless... at that point, humanity- as he knew it and loved it- would already be gone.

Corbin blinked, his eyes bleary from the glare on the snow and the onslaught of rapid-fire observations involved in quick-swapping, and focused on an empty bullet shell lying on the hard-packed snow at the Sergeant's feet. No sooner had he swapped than the man was already explaining his orders. "Listen closely. In a moment, we're gonna fire everything we've got at that thing. When that happens, you book it over to the Syntheticas and help them retreat back to the mountain. Got it?"

"Yes, Sergeant." He had been briefed on this. He just hadn't expected it to happen quite so soon. Peering through his binoculars, he made out the forms of the three Synthetica wielders against the white expanse and watched them with a familiar mixture of admiration, frustration, and envy. There was the Phoenix, her bright flames casting a golden aura on the snow, then the dark shape of Cerberus, and Raijou behind them. They could do what he could not. They could injure a Euclidian- and yet it was never enough. A flash of lightning dazzled his vision, a streak of light pierced the gloom- the Raijou's lance flew, and fell. Then again, and again, and again. He watched it fly repeatedly, only to miss or glance aside, thrown off course by some invisible power, each projectile slightly slower than the last. At the same time the movements of the other two grew more sluggish, more sporadic. They were tiring quickly. Beneath them, the snow was stained red with their blood, before them the enormous skeletal serpent, like some hellish beast from the mythical underworld, lay coiled in waiting, and all the while the Euclidian lieutenant hovered overhead as her eerie, gloating laughter rang out over the scene, sending a shiver down his spine.

If they had been mindless animals, it would have been different. If humanity's end had been brought about by some natural disaster, some flood or earthquake, or even a disease, he might have been able to make his peace with it. There was no shame in losing to the raw force of nature. But these Euclidians... their humanoid forms and maniacal gloating revealed an intelligence that knew exactly what they were doing, and reveled in it. For that, they had earned the rare honor of his utter, untempered hatred. No, this was no mere tragedy. This was personal. This was a duel to the death over who would inherit the earth. And he'd be damned if he was going to hand it over to these idiots without a fight, these monsters who lacked any appreciation for the beauty of this world, who didn't care how much of it they destroyed as long as they could dominate and possess and trample every inch of it.

After putting his binoculars away, Corbin clenched his fists tightly, tensing his shoulders, and rocked onto the balls of his feet. He wanted to be there, now. He, too, wanted to at least attempt to trade blows with the Euclidian, even if the effort was pointless. If only he could leave one mark on that smug face of hers... just one mark... In combat, his role was mostly relegated to planting explosives and setting up traps, which was fine. At least that was something. And whenever he assisted the Synthetica wielders in some way, those who could land a blow, he felt that maybe he could claim some small share in their triumph for himself. But what he had really wanted all this time was to lock eyes with a Euclidian while it suffered at his hands. To make it understand his rage, his hatred. No matter how much he practiced with his anomaly, no matter how many times he pondered the question as he lay awake in the dark, that ambition remained infuriatingly out of reach. Not in a million years would he forget the first time he had tried to strike directly against a Euclidan beast, back when he was young and stupid. He had thrown a rock at its head, striking the orbital bone, then swapped with it and thrust his vibroblade into the creature's eye, only to find he may as well have poked it with a feather, for all the damage that did. Then he began to fall, and before he could even think of swapping back, he suffered a full-on collision with its tail. Most likely, it had merely swatted him aside like a human would swat a fly, but the force was enough to send him hurtling back to earth like a meteor. Miraculously, he survived the fall, but he sustained numerous fractures in the process and spent weeks recovering. Needless to say, he had not been eager to try that again.

"Easy. Wait for the right moment." Corbin flinched, startled, as the Sergeant placed a heavy hand on his shoulder as though to keep him rooted to the ground. Only then did he realize he was practically twitching with impatience. Now he noticed that the intermittent gunfire had fallen silent and a flurry of activity had broken out all along the line. It wouldn't be long now. Taking stock of the distance between his position and where the three Synthetica wielders stood, Corbin reached into his pocket and rummaged around for his best throwing items- two rubber balls and a brightly painted stone. He left one ball in his right hand, rolling it across his fingers in anticipation, and transferred the other two to his left hand. Then he put one foot forward and bent his knees slightly, preparing to run, every muscle in his body tense, and fixed his gaze straight ahead. Any moment now...

All at once the giant serpent resting below the Euclidian uncoiled its bulk, and as it raised its head a volley of artillery fire exploded all around him. That was it. A shove from behind, and Corbin was off, sprinting like the wind. He wound back his right arm and let the ball loose with all his might, swapping with it just before it plunged into the snow and was lost from sight, and hit the ground running. Repeating this two more times brought him almost to the feet of the Synthetica wielders. Now, he rapidly took stock of the situation in the few seconds it took him to catch his breath. Astrid and Amaryllis were still standing, but Friedrich had collapsed, so Corbin decided to focus on him. The other anomalies would arrive soon to help the other two. He knelt down, placed his hand on the other man's shoulder, and mentally cycled through the objects he had already scattered around the battlefield, as was his habit. Thankfully, the empty canteen he'd placed behind the ranks was still there, and hadn't been buried in the snow. Five more swaps with various items- glass bottle, ammo box, boot, pocketknife, empty ration tin- brought them to the gate of Mount Herula. Once inside, Corbin carefully propped Friedrich's back against the wall before running back outside, where he caught sight of Colonel Hauss and Astrid making their way across the field. He quick-swapped over to them using whatever objects caught his eye, placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and delivered them to the gate by the same method.

Inside the corridor, Seighardt shouted his orders to fall back to the operations room, along with some words of encouragement. So, they were out of time. That plan was already underway. But there was no time to process what that meant. With a shuddering sigh, Corbin tamped down his warring hope and fear yet again to focus on the task at hand, nodded his acknowledgement and crouched down to check on Friedrich's condition. Still comatose. At this point, he could try to carry the taller, heavier man all the way to the operations room... or he could run there, plant one of his miscellaneous items, and swap Friedrich with it. Clearly, that was the more sensible option. Running ahead of Sieghardt and Astrid into the room, he placed a bottle cap in the middle of the floor, then performed a quick-swap, and Friedrich lay there in its place. Then Corbin reached for his wrist, intending to check his pulse, but thankfully, he began to come around, and rose to his feet as Sieghardt and Astrid entered.

His work done for the present, Corbin turned his attention to the strange device at the center of the room, circling around it while examining it from every angle, his hands thrust into his pockets. Multicolored lights blinked and danced, and a mechanical whirring sounded from within, but there was nothing whatsoever that clued him in to its inner workings. To his knowledge of modern technology, it was utterly incomprehensible. Distantly, he heard the others talking, felt the trembling of the walls and ceiling and the muted thunder coming from above, but for all that an eerie sense of quiet hung over the scene. A deep breath before the plunge, perhaps. Time travel. Even now, it was hard to wrap his head around it. It was like something out of a science fiction novel, or his boyhood fantasies come to life. But stories, at least, had the benefit of neat endings that had been worked out in advance by an all-seeing author. As far as he knew, they had no idea when, exactly, they would end up, how they would return, and how their presence in the past would affect the future. Anything could happen. Anything might go wrong.

Until now, every event since the day his city was destroyed seemed to have been pushing him inexorably toward an already sealed fate, one he had chosen to accept. Corbin had known exactly how his life would end. He would spend his last few hours on earth fighting beside his comrades, making one last attempt to strike a Euclidian... and most likely, he would die in the attempt. It was as good an end as any, one that satisfied his conscience. There was a kind of comfort in certainty, a sort of grim strength that came from facing such a desolate future head on. And yet, as he gazed at the brilliant light show in front of him, a constricting pressure in his chest he hadn't noticed before began to ease. He no longer felt like a caged animal, like one of those feral dogs in his old neighborhood that were chased to a dead end, caught, caged, and driven to the pound, where a needle, a body bag and a hole in the ground awaited. Yes, anything could happen. Almost unbidden, visions of a future beyond this day, a future in which those who now remained survived and lived on, began to unfold in his mind. Perhaps everyone could be saved, after all... perhaps... No, he dared not begin to hope that those who had already been lost could be restored. Even so, if only the human race itself were able to live on even when he himself was gone, that would be enough.

In spite of himself, his heart began to race, his body trembled, and his stomach felt... odd. Fluttery. Was this his barely-unspoiled breakfast coming back to haunt him? No, not quite. That was it- he felt almost... giddy. It been so long since there had been anything to be excited about that he had almost forgotten the feeling.

It was the voice of the Cerberus Synthetica that finally pulled him from his frenetic thoughts and arrested his pacing. Something about... a camera? Had he heard that correctly? Without making a conscious decision, Corbin found himself rummaging through his pockets. Immortalizing this moment through a photo, the moment just before the six of them would become the first in the history of their civilization to transcend the laws of time... the request itself expressed an unshakable faith that they would accomplish their objective, and that, in itself, gave him permission to embrace the hope he'd been trying to resist. Besides, there was something about that look in her one good eye- that clear, bright look, totally unclouded by the despair he saw in the eyes of nearly everyone else, the despair that even he had to fend off constantly.

There was a world of difference between accepting death as inevitable, and simply waiting to die. More terrifying than death itself was the fear that his anger would burn out before the end, that his spirit would be crushed before his body, that he would become just another ghost in a prison of flesh, a dead man walking the earth. That was why he never hesitated to rush into danger. That was why he repeated a list of names to himself each night, the names of those who had fallen, even as the endless and ever-growing succession of names and faces blurred into oblivion. It had long since become impossible to remember all of them, but that never stopped him from trying. "You still have a choice," he would tell any soldier who had that empty look in their eyes. "You can still choose how you're going to live and die. They can't take that away from you." Some were encouraged, the faintest glimmer of light returning to their gaze, but everyone had their own methods of coping, and he couldn't expect his to work for everyone. Sometimes their eyes, instead, glazed over with weariness, or filled with irritation and astonishment that he would bother trying to make sense of things anymore, much less expect them to do so. When that happened he would simply change the subject to something trivial, reminiscing about the past, complaining about the quality of rations, or cracking some macabre joke- anything to keep them going a little bit longer.

But now, another choice lay open to them- the choice between doomed certainty, and complete uncertainty. For Corbin, at least, the choice was clear. Uncertainty meant opportunity, and opportunity meant hope. So he chose to embrace the unknown, and with it, hope. One fleeting moment would become crystalized in time, and then they would plunge headlong into the flow, unravel the tangled threads of fate, wrest free the one that would bring about the future they desired, and hold to it with all their strength until that future came to pass.

Corbin did, in fact, have a small camera on hand that he used as an aid in memorizing locations for the use of his anomaly. He pulled it out and handed it to Amaryllis. "Um... I have a camera, Ma'am..."

Now, forward. Into the unknown.

 
Last edited:
Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Lucille von Helden
Radiant Force
Female
21
Lucille

Useless. Lucille Eloise Altaria Wilde von Helden felt utterly and completely useless. It wasn't often that the young woman found herself in any kind of negative frame of mind. Not that what she felt right now was anything in comparison to others, instead, more like a pouting child. With a sigh, she continued to glare at the various screens in annoyance. They were full of countless information in all shapes and forms. Data that, in the immediate future, would be of utter unimportance to her.

Though the biggest monitor of them all was the one that caught her and everybody's attention in the room. A crumbling live feed of humanity's superweapons against those that made a mockery out of their very beings. The very frontline that Lucille would have preferred to be at, rather than holed up in this so-called Command Center. A King Queen was supposed to lead, not hide! Or something like that. Yet, there seemed to be many reasons why she was not outside, but inside. And each time she wanted an explanation, they just piled on more excuses. In another time, at another place, the Queen of None would have likely ignored the orders given to her. But here, she did not.

The failed assault of the three Synthethica only worsened the mood of the people around her. As the flames of the Phoenix subsided, as the metallic bolts of lighting failed to hit their mark, as the abyssal flower dance of the withered. Until, ultimately, silence filled the room as the video feed was now replaced by a static too. Clearly, something must have hit the equipment.

"Tzch..." Lucille turned around. This was her cue, was it not? This had, after all, been the plan. And everything went according to plan. So she really couldn't understand all the gloom and doom around her. If anything, the Synthethica's cue for retreat was her cue to finally get out of this place, too! With hasty steps, she pushed open the door to leave into a hallway. Her new destination: The so-called 'operations room'



True to her name, Lucille arrived just in time — widely swinging open a double-door to catch just the middle and end of the little bit of conversation happening. "A camera? That's a wonderful idea! Maybe we can get an entire picture album going on, too! It's not an everyday occurrence that people get to use a maybe safe time machine that could throw us out just about ANYWHERE, after all. It'll be amazing!" Being back to her radiant self, she adjusted her oversized crown. "All I have is a glorified music player." Before clearing her throat and clasping her hands together. "Also, good job on making it back in one piece, too! Things gonna only tend to get better now for sure!" Her rays of sunshine only seemed to increase in intensity as Corbin affirmed that he had, indeed, a camera.






 
Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Sieghardt Hauss
Azure Will
Male
27
Sieghardt
Sieghardt couldn't help but to crack a smile at Amaryllis' comment, and the following responses made by Corbin, and of course, Lucille's renowned encouraging demeanor. Even after a decade of an apocalyptic event, where beasts and creatures of the darkness ravaged across the land for sport, some managed to keep their old personalities in check—unlike some, succumbing to the fate of the world. Regardless, his respect lived on for those who continued on fighting for mankind's hope. Although powerless, the soldiers stationed outside screamed in valor, impaling the beasts with the bayonet of their weapon, heroically fighting for this very moment—where humanity's end shall return to the beginning, where it all began—or perhaps, far before Terra was established.

"A group picture of us would be neat. Nothing wrong with a little reward of reminiscence after saving the world, though that's quite the big declaration."

Sieghardt nodded and asked for the General to heed their final request. Having vaguely understood their desire, and perhaps pitting them for placing the fate of mankind on their shoulders, General Berthier took it upon himself to deliver their final gift: a group picture of the six, some smiling and radiating an encouraging figure, and some deadpan to the idea of it all—regardless, Sieghardt the others were not opposed to it.
••

The enigma machine adapted an intimidating presence, where its vast size and myriad of fluorescent colors shining through the mosaic core made it difficult to understand the true purpose of the device. If anything, most would simply assume that it was an art project of modern times. Something about its presence spoke... history. A meaning about mankind's history. If it wasn't for the hundreds of large cords that were connected to several other machines around it, most wouldn't even have considered it a machine. And if it wasn't for the several stone tablets resting next to the enigma, the remnants of humanity wouldn't even have theorized the possibility of time travel, as that was a theory reserved only for fiction.

General Berthier stepped forward and introduced the six to the machine, having studied it prior before their final retreat into the mountains. As the one who advocated for this operation to take pace as their last resort to survival, he alone believed that this machine could possibly save us, unlike the other proposals made by the officers of his identical rank. "For a lack of a better word, let us call this conundrum of a device the 'Grand Archive'. If the tablets of the past state only the truth, this machine is capable of modifying the laws of this world and rewriting the present, by reversing the flow of time backward to a specific period. Unfortunately, as like the Syntheticas itself, understanding it is futile. Besides... If this fails, we'll yield to the Euclidian's might either way. That is why you all will be used as an experiment for our final operation."

Sieghardt and the others stood side by side within the machine's core, surrounded by blinding lights. He and his fellow anomalies would feel normal, or at least physically, unlike those that wielded the Synthetica. Astrid, Friedrich, and Amaryllis, on the other hand, would gradually notice a stabbing pain in the chest, directly at the center of where the Synthetica surgery took place. Like drinking a hot pot of tea without caution, as the Grand Archives began to excerpt louder noises, their Syntheticas would feel like it was overheating, causing them to grab onto their chest in pain.

"Prepare for launch," Spoke General Berthier, whose words could still be heard from inside the device. "Set the numerals to 2,000 years, before the establishment of the Kalaris Alliance. We'll be sending you six to a period of time where the technology of our level is not present. Exercise caution and do not act with haste. Remember. While time is not on your side as of this moment, once you've entered the world of—"

Then came in an unexpected calamity, as a blast could be heard across the operations room, specifically coming from the locked entrance where the six came from. A chain of explosions followed as each blast damned the guards and officers alike into smithereens, painting the white walls red and black, chaos ensuing before they even had the chance to say their final goodbyes.

General Berthier, who was honored with the position as the Commander of the Synthetica forces, was a man of fine talent and skill that allowed humanity to live on for as long as it did. Without his efforts and sacrifices, mankind would've been pulverized long ago, rendering this operation nonexistent in an alternative timeline. He was a soldier who had lost his family and kids during the beginning of the conflict, and yet, even after such tragedy had taken away his reason to live, his iron resolve never withered to surrender, despite the fact that he had no reason to continue onward.

For Sieghardt, he was his one true father. The one who raised him into an honorable soldier. Having been born into an orphan, there was no other man that he could possibly call a father.

In a final act of his everlasting heroism, General Berthier witnessed one of the hurling debris' kill the main operator of the machine and rush forward to finish the job himself, even in the face of death. Without fear or regret, he screamed in gallantry and struck the glowing red button on the consoles, activating the machine to suddenly work in overdrive, although the device was still not fully charged with Synthetica energy.

"Do not falter!" The General continued the moment after his arm became a meal for the Euclidian beast that stormed inside, the pain not stopping him from shouting his final words. "Mankind will prevail through your resolve! Do not waste the efforts that we sacrificed ourselves for!"

A mere second after his last words, the fate of General Berthier was blinded by a blazing luminous, the entire center engulfed in light, effectively stopping the flow of time outside of the machine.
••


 
Mount Herula, Transient
Fredrich Alexander
Skypiercer
Male
27
Fredrich
Frenzied operations, crewmen of this temporal reanimator working like shadows to the seven of them, standing within the centre like the heroic standard to which all who lived had bolted them to. All who were dead, too, but supposedly all that would not matter: victory was now theirs, for through the power of time all paths could be opened, and all fates remoulded. The general had, rightly, taken the liberty of trialling this miraculous machination on the eve of their time, for in no other era would it’s activation ever be such a simple decision.

A busy mind, paired with a busy body; gravely drained, standing was in and of itself a struggle difficult to endure. The veil of his person, however, was something he wished to bring to the grave. His ultimate mission, a failure, now shackled to yet another fruitless quest, in a different time, for the same reason.

He prepared himself mentally, for the eternity before him, endlessly pursuing fruitlessness. Engrossed within the tranquil embrace of a truly harrowing fate, he stumbled through the gathering, and took aid from the nameless officers hurriedly going about their deeds in the shapeless backdrop to their grand quest.

Using their shoulder, he stood tall, and proud, through the merit of his own figure; his own legend. As he gazed upon the figures, anomalous, and breathtaking to any scientific sort about them, he felt nothing. His steely gaze permeated the digital sheets, the statistics and their probabilities; the device’s presumed protocols, and it’s values. Obviously, the simple activation of a World-Engine such as this, was guesswork. But, at the very least, they had managed to start it. A marvel, in and of itself. But he did not care.

As he turned around, he pushed away from the soldier, with all he had, and stumbled back. Every miniscule motion, and every breath recouped, a struggle hitherto unexperienced. Beneath bated breath he spoke to the Research Corp, “good work.” To those who could listen, but more so for theatre. He did not care, none of this was within his expectations to see: not these lights- which illuminated the roof alike the undiluted skies of unpolluted vistas during their most beautiful- and not these men and women, fighting harder and with more purpose than he had in many years.

He walked, struggling. His thoughts a jumbled connection of concepts unrelated, emotions untethered and too subdued to act out in juvenile frustration. Until the camera. Grace personified had spoken of it, her words a song for the feeble. Statuesque presence, alike his own, but vividly estranged; a strange persona birthed by stranger circumstance, bringing warmth to others through it’s aloofness. Naturally charismatic, and he smiled in anger.

They were all worn, energy reserves depleted, and struggling for the small things in life to bring them back. The relief of normalcy abandoned, sense of the times lost, recovered, that was what most had wanted. Smiles cracked, though weary, and exhausted. Those who knew not the struggle, but yearned for it in their innocence, energetic, and welcoming her proclamation. And those who could not lose their way, invincible conviction, egged her on. Aided her in her tomfoolery, her childishness no doubt empowered. He had felt it before, but felt it none more than now, that he did not belong.

Nonetheless, relieved of self-determination, and the freedom to make the choices he wished to see, he struggled and stumbled into frame, as the poses were struck, and his brave smile once more lied to mankind. Another time, for another time. Time was meaningless, as all things had proved. What expectations did they have, that the Euclideans were incapable of mitigating whatever struggle would continue? They would conquer this place, they would recover this device, and they would undoubtedly resume their conquest. Another time, for another time.

He raised his chest, allowed his uniform to carry him, and shine it’s splendour. His rank imposed upon his shoulder, as the regalia of his accomplishments nestled upon his chest, the beating heart of a warrior who would battle through time for mankind’s right to the future. An officer who would, no doubt, through means of thunderous barrage, and inspiring words, make allies with the denizens who had conceived these weapons which allowed Terra to survive longer than it had right to. But uncovering their secrets, mankind would survive. And the Euclideans would burn, whimpering upon the ground like weak wolves beneath his extended barrel.

And he was merely one of seven, imagine what all of them, together, could accomplish?

No doubt, mankind was thoroughly fooled. All this foolery, at the hands of those most foolish, who knew not when to cease. He had not the will, nor the way, to do anything of the sort.

But he smiled, stood proud, and pretended all the same. Because it was as natural, as the breaths he breathe, and the anger he feel; the smile he make.

Time flew fast in those moments, none amongst them sane enough to discourage the insanity of their prideful assembling. Whatever effort expended in their photographic escapades came at the cost of a hundred men, and women, a moment, who would wish them nothing but to initiate the machine that much faster. He thought that, if he were to die, before the impending activation of the Grand Archive, due to their foolery, it would not be so bad.

But he did not have that fortune. They were unpunished, for now, for their detour, and their commander, a General with whom he had much history, drew away swiftly sans the taking of their photo, and all but physically attached himself to the command console of the great machine. All could no doubt tell, from his stalwart ways, and his comparably steely demeanour to himself, that he was a great man. But in him Fredrich saw nothing but a deluded man, fiddling with time, to undo the mistakes he’d done. Berthier knew better than even he, how to uphold your uniform, and wear the embroidered rope of command which flung across the shoulder, and attached above the heart.

Militaries put much thought upon the uniform, perhaps none more than the homeland from whence he herald, but because he knew them well, he could see what nations embodied merely through the silhouettes of those who master them. Berthier was not the Supreme Commander, but he had a seat upon their table, and he had a word which meant much.

And as the engine whirred, the colours coursed, and the energies flew, mixed, and interspersed within the confines of the room, perhaps through the foundations of the world, he felt wronged. A wronged existence, imbued with power promising salvation. He was a saviour, but he knew only to destroy; and he could destroy nothing. There were times where he struck hits, but those were undoubtedly the machinations of particularly humouring Euclideans. It was sport to them, and fighting was more sport, than accepting the inevitable. He had played his part in their game for too long, and as he felt his view blur, and his heart on the precipice of bursting, he felt wrong.

He remained silent. To onlookers, he refused to bow, for he kneeled beneath the force of a pain incomprehensible to any who were not of the ilk that such heroes were, but it was agony. It was like standing beneath the influence of many Euclideans, their domineering aura suffocating the very source of his power, but they were not here. At least, not until he knew they had approached.

Had he not been swept away within the torrents of the Grand Archive, he would have warned them that their time had been short. But, as it enslaved him to his heart, hand clutching his uniform and tugging upon it’s finest fabrics, his word was muted.

An incident would occur, he knew it. Another, and the pain of knowing, the pain of always knowing, would torment just the same as the time which bent and bowed before the great machine.

An explosion burst, Berthier forfeit, all the officers to his name, tossed into the void. Envious, yet saddening.

He looked about, around, and saw the world around them blurred beneath a whizzing haze of space distorted: necks displaced, turned to thread, as their bodies migrated from left to right. But they were not decapitated, he could tell, for it was the fabrics of reality themselves which were being tampered with. Merely one, of innumerable examples which whirled around them, as reality became the works of an abstractionist artist.

And then, the colours shifted, the cold darkness of a subdued room shifted with green lusciousness, and the hopes which warm colour provided; the warmth, lest mentioned, changed so naturally as to be indiscernible. But it was obvious to all who cared to think in that brief, yet infinite time which they traversed the aeons. In but a mere moment, his age was reduced by millennia, and yet he felt no different, merely the unbearable pain which soon hibernated. It’s remnants nowhere to be seen, but the feeling which burrowed into him.

He stood up, and was met with the world: Terra, before Terra. A forest, alike his own; Brevet, but immeasurably different. Home, a hundred thousand miles, and untold hundreds of years away.

He had so many thoughts, and so many words to speak. But did not, simpler people, those more assured, and those with less to ponder, would speak for him. All he did was stand up, and against fate, picturesque, for whilst he was weakest, and whilst he was pained, he was the first to.

He surveyed their surroundings, accounted for their characteristics, so as to better pretend his role.

Were the question to come, he would make his examination vocal, but in truth, he was overwhelmed.
 
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Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Amaryllis Evenings
Silverlight Noblesse
Female
25
Amaryllis

“Grand gestures at the eve of the grandest of orders,” Amaryllis responded, reciprocating Sieghardt’s own smile with a flourish and a bow. “Though Corbin, I must ask: have I truly aged so much that you believe it appropriate to denounce a young Miss as a Ma’am?” One side of her lips quirked up after. Just insubstantial jests in the end, lost in the flurry of excited sound that was the youngest member of this team. Lucille, bright-hearted as always, a ray of sunshine as mesmerizing as it was blinding. And as General Berthier snapped the picture, the two ladies struck the duo that they always had.

The Knight of Rose, resplendently noble in posture and poise.

The Queen of None, passionately radiant amidst desaturated surroundings.

The shutter clicked, the moment was immortalized, and Amaryllis received the camera from the General, nodding her thanks before the briefing began and everything fell apart. Perhaps it was an inevitability. Perhaps the Euclidians realized what they were doing. Perhaps the two left behind were already dead. But they had received their orders nonetheless, and in that last moment, the General himself was also immortalized with the snap of a camera’s shutter.

A heroic man, his valorous nature uncovered by tragedy after mounting tragedy.

In the world that was to be rewritten, Amaryllis hoped that the picture she had taken would be the only evidence of that self-effacing courage.

And then, naturally, the pain came.

Time rent, stretched, twisted, unfurled, and restitched. A burning lump in the center of her chest thrummed with an erratic energy, ripping into the capillaries of her lungs and forcing hot gasps out. Eternity reduced to a speck of dust, then magnified into an infinite cycle of life and rebirth, from fetus to crone over and over again. Her body was being reborn, remade, reshaped. Processed through the chromatic weave of a machine that defied human understanding as much as Euclidians did. And throughout all this, not a single thought played through her mind, not a single memory retained. Like snowdrops upon feverish skin, like the haze of disease and the discombobulation of recovery.

Like stumbling across a verdant paradise after warring in purgatory for ten long years.

Amaryllis took a breath, a deep breath. Her body unmarred again, her strength filled again, her heart soaring again! She wanted to shout, to sprint, to explore until she exhausted herself and then collapse into an unbothered sleep for eight indulgent hours! Whitman could not have been more correct in this very moment, his extolling of the self striking a chord with the beauty of a world that she had never seen before. To lean and loafe at her ease, to forget for a moment, what her duty was. But those were meager wants and desires compared to the resolution that bound her movements, the oath that granted her strength.

Two thousand years to drive back the Euclidians, but the first day of the first year started now.

“Lady von Helden,” Amaryllis spoke, voice measured and bright, unshaken by dreamlike sights, “Concentrate your strength. Does the faith of humanity persist beyond this chasm of time?”

And yet, her eyes remained on the sunset, drinking in the light of an unfettered, peaceful afternoon.
 
Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Corbin Marino
Insolent Wrath
Male
22
Corbin


In response to Amaryllis' remark, Corbin smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. While absorbed in his thoughts, force of habit had asserted itself and he'd forgotten that she preferred to be addressed informally. Though, truth be told, her beauty, serene dignity, and genteel mannerisms always inspired in him a sense of awe that made it difficult to act casually, so perhaps it was more of a Fruedian slip. In any case, Lucille von Helden's dynamic entrance at that moment distracted him from any further reply he might have made.

As he pressed in beside the others for the picture, he felt a strong sense of solidarity with them. While they couldn't be called close- the constant pressures of war and duty had left little time for idle chatter- they had fought side by side often enough for him to get a feel for their temperaments, and there was something to appreciate about each of them. Amaryllis, of course, whose unwavering vision shone like a lighthouse beacon over a troubled sea. Seighardt, with his tireless fortitude and good humor. Astrid, with her ever-present air of competence and command. Lucille, with her irrepressible attitude. And Fredrich... well, Fredrich was a bit of a hard one to read, but he seemed intelligent and collected. Now, through their shared undertaking, he felt they also shared a kind of bond.

Practically bouncing on his toes, he listened with rapt attention to General Bertheir's explanation of the machine's function, just barely biting back the barrage of questions he might have asked had they not been so pressed for time. Though Corbin couldn't claim the same close association as the Synthetica wielders, the General was a man who had earned his respect both for his refusal to yield to despair and for masterminding such innovative strategies as the one that was now underway. Now he filed into the core of the machine alongside the others, his pulse thrumming with nervous tension, and waited as the device charged and final preparations were made. Gradually, he noticed that Astrid, Fredrich and Amaryllis appeared to be in pain- probably from their Synthetica implants- and kept an eye on them, ready to lend his support should any of them need it.

All of that was forgotten in the deafening explosion and in the carnage that ensued. A wordless cry tore from his throat, his hand reaching out of its own accord, though what it intended to accomplish, he had no idea. Everything that followed took no more than a few heartbeats- the machine operator falling, the General jumping behind the console to press the button, the beast charging inside, its jaws closing on his arm- yet it seemed to span centuries, as Corbin looked on helplessly.

For a split second, the scene was frozen like some gruesome still before it began to run sideways like a wet painting, like dye and water swirled in a glass, like lights smearing on a rain-soaked street, everything outside the machine caught up in a blur of gyroscopic motion while they alone remained motionless, the sole axis on which the whole universe turned. Then a searing white light swallowed everything.

At first, Corbin thought he was both blind and deaf. Only the rapid beating of his own heart told him that he was alive. Slowly, a luminous orange blob punctuated by dark pillars resolved, and he realized, from the smell of the air and the faint whispers of sound, that the quiet engulfing them was the soft silence of the outdoors.

But he was unable to fully process these impressions, his mind still caught up in what he had just seen. Mount Herula had fallen. If time continued to flow, the civilians holed up deeper in the fortress were all that remained, soon to be slaughtered in their turn. It was, really and truly, the end. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. Yes, that was what it was like- a sock in the gut when the fight was already won, just for the sheer amusement of seeing you curled up on the ground, gasping like a dying fish. Fitting, in a way, that they were forced to witness one final cruelty at the very turning of the tides. Hope and despair were always balanced on a razor's edge in war. Whenever one prevailed, the other was quick to take its place. In keeping with the unfairness of it all, one of the best and bravest humanity had to offer would not live to see the fruit of his labor. Always, the Euclidians had to have the last laugh.

Bertheir. The final addition to his list. Do not falter! The General's words rang in his mind. Do not waste our sacrifice. He understood the sentiment completely. If he were ever to find himself in such a position, it was the kind of thing he hoped he would be able to say. But, with that understanding, he felt a crushing weight settle on his shoulders- the weight of countless lives, countless hopes. So this was the burden the Synthetica wielders had been forced to endure, all this time. Now, the very existence of humanity depended, solely and completely, on them.

But, at the very least, they each had five others with whom to share the burden. What was he thinking? The Euclidians have the last laugh? No. Not if he had any say at all. You will be avenged, he swore to General Bertheir and all the others, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. Not only that. He would heed the man's dying words and repay them tenfold- no, ten thousandfold. With two thousand years of infinite possibilities ahead of them, why ask for just one thing? Why not demand everything? That's what he would strive for. Not only vengeance on the Euclidians, but their complete destruction. Not only a future for humanity, but the restoration of all who had been lost. He would change the past so that they would never have had to die. Resolution burned like fire within.

We can save everyone.

Corbin blinked away the tears blurring his vision, inhaled the fresh air, unclipped his helmet, which he had forgotten to remove earlier, and let it fall to the ground with a soft thump. As the gentle breeze ruffled his damp, matted hair, he properly took stock of his surroundings. This was not Mount Herula, past or present- the climate and terrain were all wrong. It appeared the time machine had not only transported them into the past, but also to a different location. Based on the position of the sun, they were now facing west.

Preparing to break the silence, he swallowed hard, but Amaryllis saved him the trouble. He waited with bated breath for Lucille's answer.

 
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Mount Herula, Terra
Code by Serobliss
Lucille von Helden
Radiant Force
Female
21
Lucille

"Say cheese!" Lucille dropped quite a cheesy line as General Berthier took it upon himself to grant the group of six a request. In her mind, this was just the first of many upon a new journey they would all venture on together. "Make sure to hold on to that device!" For just a moment, it seemed like the General was to keep the device rather than return it to Corbin. Or maybe he was a bit out of it? Lucille von Helden couldn't say why, as their plan seemed quite straightforward!

As the General then proceeded to explain the plan - and machine - in more detail, Lucille listened with attention. Thankful that he kept it short and precise to what actually mattered, rather than putting them to sleep with unnecessary tech-jargon! It certainly did look like it could be a machine that was accompanied by that kinda talk, lots of it, too. "Thank you." She spoke to the General as they entered the core of the machine, giving one of the scientists who could have also taken on the role of exposition a very slight glare. Yes, she was indeed glad.

And then, Lucille simply waited as the device slowly whirled into action, silently humming a random melody that got into her head. In fact, if they travelled 2000 years into the past, wouldn't she be the only one that had a magical device of automatic music playing!? They could earn a lot of money like that! Or maybe they'd all be accused of witches? She had read about that before, pretentious Witch burnings were quite popular in her home country. Lucille's important train of thought got interrupted, however, as she noticed the three Synthethicas were in some pain. "Need a shoulder?" Ignorant of the true magnitude of torture they went through. And then, boom.

Suddenly, things happened so quickly that there really wasn't any time to truly act, or do, anything anymore. With Berthier's last act of heroism, Lucille's senses were overwhelmed. A deafening noise accompanied by a mirage of colours. And then, silence.

For yet another second, that could feel like half an eternity. Von Helden blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. The depressing palette of their base, replaced by dark greens and a slight breeze of nature. The smell of rust, blood and sweat now gone. "Hehehe..." In its place memories of her childhood. Lucille took a few gleefully steps forward. Quite happy of the place they were now in as Amaryllis words took her back to reality.

“Lady von Helden, concentrate your strength. Does the faith of humanity persist beyond this chasm of time?”

Lucille stopped. Right. There was this notion of an idea. Anomalies, as they were called. And the unexplainable origin of their power. A mystery, that the Silverlight Noblesse had seemingly partially solved? Lucille already had her hunches before she had met the bearer of Cerberus, but having done some experiments together, only confirmed it. Part of Lucille Eloise Alteria Wilde von Helden's power had to do with the faith she, and the people around put in her. It was also undeniable, as the war had raged on and her people were slaughtered, Lucille had gotten weaker.

"Ahem..." Adjusting her crown and clearing her throat, she simply said. "Knife." Before a translucent, small, but sharp blade appeared in her hand. Without batting an eye, she opened her other palm and cut herself without even flinching. It was, after all, how she fought all along. She wouldn't spill any tears over a little, deep cut. Lucille, did, however, start counting. 1... 2... 3... 4... ...

A multitude of seconds passed in tense silence as a few droplets of blood turned the grass below her feet in crimson. Until, finally, the bleeding stopped, and her wound had healed. Leaving not even a scar. Just one of many ways they had tried to gauge her strength before.

"This took longer than it has ever before!" Lucille finally said, sounding rather joyful. "I can say with quite the confidence: However many years we've travelled back in the past, it's certainly before I was born, at the very least!" Of course, they couldn't tell if it had been the planned 2000 years. But at the very least it wasn't a complete failure of travelling back only a few years or somesuch!

She smiled.






 
Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Sieghardt Hauss
Azure Will
Male
27
Sieghardt
How long has it been since he was able to help himself to fresh, clear air devoid of lead and tragedy? Oh, how he missed this atmosphere, the sunlight perfectly aligned to shine across his face. The warmth had made him temporarily forget about the mission, almost as if it was begging him to cease all activities and simply bathe under the innocent sunlight. How calming, he would think. Having had his injuries and stamina healed by some miraculous chain of events, Sieghardt was lost in a field of euphoria, thinking of nothing more than to rest.

But how could he, of all people, could simply forget his duties after being met with sunlight that he had so missed? Could anyone blame him, however? Surely, the others would understand. With certainty he believed that they would wish for the same, having been offered this opportunity to finally rest their minds after a decade of witnessing genocide, sleeping with one eye open to assure their survival each night. Or at least, that's how he lived. Fearful of never being of use to humanity, and to become nothing more than a mountain of corpses to the Euclidian's prejudice.

That's right. He volunteered without a second thought to be one of the six, not because he wished to survive, but because throughout his entire life, a purpose was laid upon him after he first witnessed a true calamity.

How he almost succumbed to this comfort. He must discipline himself more to make certain that such thoughts do not intrude.

Focus, Sieg.

'Analyze this situation and issue your first orders. You are the Colonel assigned to lead the squad. Your resolve will determine the success rate of your final mission. Do not falter... do not falter...'

A sudden flow of tears had caught him off guard, having abruptly been reminded of his foster father's demise before the enigma machine could complete its operation. But alas, he understood the consequences of traveling back in time, reversing the flow of sequences, as this meant that—technically—an individual named 'General Berthier' never existed, outside of their memories.
Perhaps in the future, if the cruel gods above would pity his determination, he would be reborn into a person of equal greatness—without the apocalypse.

Having rested his mind and after rubbing away the tears from his eyes, Sieghardt sharpened his senses and pinched his arm to awaken him back into the present.

"Is everyone all right?" were the first words that escaped him the moment he could open his eyes with confidence, viewing the others as he studied his surroundings for a brief moment, but not before checking for his own injuries as well. A quick analysis would result in his body being of perfect condition—excluding the healed scars that were already present before the travel. How the machine was able to heal their injuries was going to remain unknown for several years.

Having obtained a nod or a verbal response to his question, Sieghardt took out his mini notebook that easily fitted in his pockets, and began to read the sequence of events that they must attempt to accomplish before the first week.

"We'll need a suitable resting place that could act as our private headquarters. A place where no ears could easily reach our conversations, to avoid problems that may occur in the future if our secrets were to be exposed. We, as of currently, do not know anything about the Dragnyr of this era. It would be for the best if we played along with the common folk and immediately blend in with their culture. That would mean that we must find clothes that will not highlight us in a crowd. Once we have become accustomed to the culture, we should begin with investigations about the chain of hierarchy, and the factions involved in the—"

A sudden noise had alerted his enhanced hearings, compelling his hand to urgently pocket the notes as a natural response in haste. Based on the position of the sun, the unnatural noise was coming from the east, the opposite direction of where the village lights were exposed through the woods. It became louder and louder as the closer it came, and soon enough, the perpetrator of that noise was going to pass by their position, exposing themselves to the foreigner in question. "Get down!" He would order without a second thought, instinctively grabbing the person to his right—which would be Astrid, and pulling them to the earth to gain cover behind the bushes.

Then he waited silently, and after checking that everyone had followed his orders—and with the sound of his heart palpitating from the thrill—he discreetly observed his front with the others.

Leonhardt
Crest of Sabreynth
Male / Human / Kingdom of Arcrestia
Imperial Slayers Regiment / Rank: Dragonslayer (IV)
Guild Inquisitor / 190 cm / 96 kg
With prospect of favorable news, the blonde climbed confidently on his armored horse and gestured his soldiers to trail his direction, having been alerted by the town's sentries from the high tower that their spotter had returned from their journey to the edges of no man's land. Having been equipped with the proper gear and his weapon gracefully mounted to his back, he grabbed onto his crop and whipped the horse into the woods, obtaining momentum until he could see the two men that he had sent last night to travel east, towards the enemy territory would currently be stationed after their last incursion.

"Lord Sabreynth!" He would hear from the distance, as the two parties conjoined in the middle of the forest, mere meters away from the town's fences. Slight uncertainty rushed into his mind as he observed the exhausted body language of his soldiers, although thankfully, they harbored no significant injuries. "We expected your arrival tonight, but for you to be reporting to me this soon..." Leonhardt sighed, "Summarize the situation with haste, Sir Kirton. We shall discuss details later, once you have recovered your strength."

"There is no time—we must evacuate the town this instant, my lord!" The man exclaimed in a cursory manner, "The beasts of the night have awakened under the light before even dawn could settle!" Like a fool he claimed the impossible, claiming that the beasts had begun activity before the sun could settle, in which Leonhardt knew without question was still present above the mountain skies, albeit faint. "That is absurd. Beasts that are active under the sunlight are ineffective compared to those that are empowered by the darkness. You claim that those light injuries are front the night beasts, Sir Kirton?"

The man explained in further detail with genuine fear in his words, "I beseech you to understand, my lord! The monstrosities that should lurk only under the moonlight had awakened before the end of dawn! I rode to you with urgency to deliver you the news that Ashtaroth had begun their operation over the destroyed eastern borders, but they were overwhelmed by the presence of the night beasts that lurked beyond the forests, nonetheless under the very sun they fear! Please, Lord Sabreynth, you must evacuate our soldiers and this town before it arrives!"

The situation sounded dire, and yet he couldn't believe it. Never in his decades of service had he heard of the night beasts, formally known as Felbeasts, that could be immune to the light. Surely, he was delusional. And yet, Leonhardt knew himself what he must do. He trusted his soldiers and their wits, as they had served under his command for years on end, fighting side by side against countless waves of those ruthless demons. However, he couldn't help but remain suspicious.

Or until he witnessed a wave of ominous energy suddenly dash past him, carrying the scent of Felbeasts in the thousands, devouring his senses before he could understand the sheer magnitude of the shadow horde that was approaching from the east.

He looked behind him to confirm that he was not the only one who had sensed their closure, and as expected, the fear in their eyes was more than a reason to justify his next line of command. "Ready the horses and prepare for evacuation! Alert the town's bells and withdrawal all forces from this town and proceed with the contingency plan to reunite with the main forces west! Send one man to deliver the news of the presence of Felbeasts to Her Excellency at once!"

At once he turned his horse and gestured forward, "Merge with the evacuation unit and aid the townfolk to their wagons! I will remain with the elite unit and buy time for the retreating forces. Ready your men and round them up for the defensive, Waltham!"
 
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Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Fredrich Alexander
Skypiercer
Male
27
Fredrich

Though the forest reigned sovereign over the land which they had been displaced, it nonetheless stood to reason that it was not such an unideal spot to be transplanted upon through the haste and the panic with which the machine itself had been engaged. With its cover, and its foliage, approaching the populace would be possible through following its edge, and scouting the distance. Though the chance existed for there not to be a fitting settlement close-by, it was an easily solved conundrum: all one needed to do was to ferry forth unto distant forestry, and proceed until successful.

His initial reconnoitering informed him that, though the forestry seemed largely alien, its vegetation was nonetheless related to what he was used to, down in distant Brevet. Though, as he recognized that fact, he also recognized Brevet’s nonexistence, and grew silent in his mind. In silence, he perused the distant, and noticed the lights of township in the yonder reaches, beyond the wildwood, and beyond the wilderness. Were they this close to a settlement, the chances for an animal attack was lessened, unless nature operated by different metric now, two-thousand years prior. He could not discredit such a possibility, and signaled caution, walking beside Sieghardt as he took the necessary time to recompose himself. Disregarding the minute chatter occuring between the others.

Perhaps it was naught but natural, for the warring ones who had seen every conflict that needed to be seen, and lost all, to seek out comfort where it might be found. But, in his apathy, and hopelessness, Friedrich was void of such urges. Endless worries fueled him, rather, and endless worries soon to be actualized did so in thousand-fold, whether true or false. He felt the ill-omens, rumbling within him.

He would speak to Sieghardt, and inform him of the settlement he’d seen the lights of, and the presumed presence they maintained within the woods, but once he’d composed himself, he fled to his instructions, tied into the pages of a book of the now never-time, the future’s guiding hand. Though he could sympathize, the Synthetica nonetheless thought that for there to be any semblance of chance, the past ought to be forgotten- the future. After all, what they had seen was nothing but defeat, and defeat does not breed victory.

His inner monologue was paused, as a sway of familiar discomfort overcame him, and his smile grew by reflex, though subdued. He heard the distant sounds of footsteps, of swaying bushery, and the disfigurement of the undergrowth beneath weighted steps most familiar; soldiers, equipment and all, were on patrol. He wondered why in the same moment that he, in sync with his leader, made a sharp gesture towards Corbin, Amaryllis, and Lucille to vacate for the thicket to their rear. With the swiftness of the thunderbolt, and the silence of lightning, he made sure that he was as invisible to the intruders as he was to the Euclideans.

As he, and the others, no doubt listened with grave intent to the first words spoken by denizens of an alien era, the ill-omen gripped him, and the bad thoughts grew more frightful. He could not control his smile, a reflexive response to ill happenings and disdainful events, gripped control of his face’s musculature by the grip of the vise. Reminding him of his presence within the circumstances of vengeful forces beyond his knowing.

However, even so, he was moderately eased. He knew, after all, that the past had successfully developed, even without their presence. So, no matter the issue the citizenry might find themselves in, ultimately, they would succeed. That, however, would only apply so long as they remained uninvolved with the past. But, as he eyed over the others, and listened to Astrid’s speech of goodness and humanity, gazing upon the others, who no doubt resonated her words with passionate appreciation, he knew, again, that he was out of his waters, and that such a possibility was impossible. He could leave, rogue and live in the wastes of the past, far away from all civilization. But they would alter it, were he not present nonetheless. So, whilst a myriad of possibilities presented themselves to him in that one instant, he disregarded them all. If for no other reason than the fact that he was too set in his ways, and his way was to grin and bear it all until freed.

Refusing to outwardly agree, on principle, he nonetheless knew he would need to speak, elsewise drawing the attention of others, which certainly would not bode well for the mission’s success, though doomed as it nonetheless was.

He took initiative therefore, following Astrid- all throughout sensing that most familiar displeasure which rooted itself in his cortex, spreading along his every sinuous expanse and through all the neural pathways which encompassed his frame- to provide valuable feedback:

“It’s not such a bad idea,” he said through hand signs, far more wary than some of the patrols which may or may not have walked past them as they prowled along the undergrowth. “If we succeed in defending the town, we will have found a place to rest, and a potential base to expand from.” He began to speak, though in subdued tone, having, as he gestured, surveyed the surroundings to make sure none were within earshot of them. The potential existed that heightened senses may imbue these warriors of the bygone eras, but if so, he would definitely not be the one to expose them.

“But, we should be careful: it smells of Euclideans, and our track-record with them is not impressive…” he spoke, withering as he did, though in a fashion so as not to discredit his apparent bravado. Rather, it was more of a dutiful reminder, so as to make sure that this fight would not be their last. Even if they were to lose. They were, after all, skilled losers. Competent cockroaches, unkillable by all semblances and all reason.

To his great displeasure.

“If we win, I will demand a magnet for my services,” he finished, stone-faced and serious. This discomfort could not be eased through other means. The way they handled, the forces at work, and the synchronicity with which he and they prospered was cosmic, and unfathomable. Magnetic force, omnipotent if allowed to run its course, was the only thing which would save him from rapid emotional decay.

Even in that instant, he fidgeted above his most important pockets, destined to only hold the finest of magnets, the heralds of the lord, minerals refined and made perfect in form and of purpose. Like an addict, withdrawal had begun to set in no more than an hour, or so, past his due dose of that sweetest most gentle ‘rock.’
 
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Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Corbin Marino
Insolent Wrath
Male
22
Corbin


Corbin tried to listen attentively to Sieghardt's rundown of their objectives, but already his mind, as was its wont, ran full-tilt down a path of its own, summoning every factoid he knew about pre-Kalaris history and spinning out wild speculations about the places and people of this time. Meanwhile, his senses passively absorbed his surroundings, his darting eyes finally resting on the town in the distance. Unfortunately, he couldn't make out many significant details from here. Were those lights from candles, oil lamps or electricity? What was the architecture like? What did people eat there? Come to think of it, now that they'd finally gotten a breather, he was actually quite hungry. It had been ages since they'd had any decent grub.

"Get down!" With Seighardt's shout, his reverie was shattered, and he dove into the bushes beside the Colonel. Peering through the leaves, he was able to discern the group of soldiers convening on the road, and watched the scene unfold with eager interest. For a few moments he remained caught up in the novelty of it all. It was like watching some historical drama, but without the barrier of the screen, and replete with the inimitable details of reality. History was unfolding before his eyes! The blonde leader guy sitting astride the horse- evidently some type of nobleman- cut an impressive figure, the very image of the idealized, chivalrous knight by which this age was remembered. And just look at the armor- even the horse was armored, in fascinating jointed segments. Tanks might be more effective, but that looked a lot more fun.

Soon, however, it became clear not only that the people of this time had their own monsters to contend with, but that a clash was imminent, and the six time-displaced sojourners found themselves both unprepared and dangerously exposed. Whatever plans they might have had to gradually mingle with the locals had just flown out the window. Even so, Corbin found himself strangely detached, almost at ease. After being smacked out of the sky by a Euclidean beast the size of a jetliner, maybe he found it difficult to lend the current threat its appropriate weight. Maybe it was the fact that that ordinary troops under ordinary circumstances had been able to contend with these "night beasts", or whatever they were, until now. In this age, civilization thrived alongside the threat of these creatures. Even if they were behaving abnormally now, that still put their chances of winning at... well, more than zero, at the very least.

Corbin really liked those odds.

Already, his palm was itching to close around the hilt of his vibroblade. This was what he had been craving. A fight he could win. No- not even that. A chance to bring his skill and strength to bear without the crushing, omnipresent sense of futility that had haunted him since the day the Euclidean advance razed his hometown to dust. A fight that made a difference.

Suddenly, a foreboding presence washed over him like a draft of cold air, causing the hair on the back of his neck to bristle. Alright, this was definitely serious, no doubt about that. Still, he stubbornly resisted the dampening of his spirits. They were three Synthetica wielders and three anomalies strong. They had clashed with titans and stood their ground. They knew the future, and carried with them a sacred duty that would not allow them to waver. They were soldiers.

As the sound of hoofbeats and harried footsteps faded, he sprang to his feet just after Astrid did the same. Astrid recognized the aura of the Felbeasts as being similar to what the Synthetica wielders had already felt from the Euclideans, and called on the other two to share her recollection. Now, that was fascinating- an even more compelling reason to become involved. If these monsters of the past were connected to the Euclideans of the future, an encounter with them might lend some insight into what had gone wrong in their own time. If the two threats wound up being one and the same, or at least stemmed from the same source, so much the better. They could find a way to nip things in the bud here and now.

While Astrid pleaded with the Colonel that they be granted permission to save the innocents before them, lest they slip through their grasp as had all those countless lives in their own time, Corbin felt his own heart swell in tune with her sentiments. Then, they had fought their hardest, and were helpless. Now, they had both the will and means to fight, and the chance to make it count. Why shouldn't they act? What reason in this vast universe could have the power to hold them back?

"Absolutely." Corbin affirmed his agreement almost before she'd finished speaking. His right hand gripped the hilt of his sword.

Fredrich, too, signaled his agreement, albeit with a cautious ambivalence. Earning the trust of the town and thus gaining a base of operations was a solid practical consideration, one that hadn't occurred to him. Although it certainly wasn't unreasonable, due to Corbin's growing impatience and lust for battle, his warning was met with a flicker of irritation that furrowed his brow.

That was forgotten, however, with the man's abrupt, deadpan request for a magnet after the battle. "You want... a magnet?" Maybe it wasn't all that strange, come to think of it. He'd often seen him holding onto a certain magnet before. The Raijou commanded electromagnetic energies, so it stood to reason that magnets would help in utilizing its power. "I have some right here." Something about the way Fredrich's hands were twitching near his pockets felt familiar to him, as a fidget himself and an obsessive collector of the miscellaneous, so he delved into his own expansive pockets to see what could be found. A moment's exploration produced eleven magnets in total: four shiny, bullet shaped magnets stuck together side by side; three plastic refrigerator magnets, shaped like a red letter A, a green letter G, and a blue letter T; a steel-coated disk magnet about four centimeters in diameter; two more disks about half that size with a rubbery black coating; and a metal clip with a square magnet attached to the back. He displayed his bounty before Fredrich on his outspread palms.

"Er... I can't say they're very strong, but feel free to take your pick."

 
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Some Random Forest, Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Amaryllis Evenings
Silverlight Noblesse
Female
25
Amaryllis

There was something to be said, about how the machinations and schemes of humanity rarely remained undistorted by the tempest that was circumstance, fortune, and the instincts of fools. As Lucille healed and Sieghardt spoke, Amaryllis shifted her posture eastward, the Synthetica core that sat between her lungs simmering with undisguised hatred even before her ears could catch the sound of a monstrous approach. Sibilant whispers caressed her ears once more, scattered directives as to how to best approach it, but the noblesse, master of her own body, dropped into the shrubbery with the rest.

And with subterfuge, came knowledge that she could more or less understand those humans who had emerged. There were dialects in Terra that were more difficult to decipher than their language, and indeed, it took no effort at all for Amaryllis herself to understand their speech, as if during two thousand years and a complete purging of historical records, the language itself had remained utterly unchanged. She caught herself for a moment there, surprised that she had fixated so deeply upon what seemed to be a trivial, if not convenient detail, but realized it soon enough.

The revulsion building up in her core, that sense of having something stuck in her chest with no release, was nothing more than a commonplace sensation. A pressure, pushing against her ribs. A burden, stagnating the flow of blood. A numbness, ringing to the top of her skull. The siren call of death and defiance, felt over and over again with the onslaught of the Euclidians, until the sensations became phantoms, triggered by memories and thoughts, as easy to recall as the taste of burnt sugar upon her tongue.

Astrid gave a name to it.

And so did that noble knight.

A flavor akin to Euclidians. A horde of Felbeasts. What a wonderfully efficient, yet evocative, name.

Friedrich spoke of logic, outlining the rationale behind Astrid’s impassioned, uncharacteristic plea. Who knew Phoenix had such a side to her, after years of seeing her as only an exacting soldier with insubordinate demands? Amaryllis liked it. She favoured the armored woman with a smile, but only that. There was no need for words. She bent down to pick up Corbin’s helmet instead, brushing some dirt off it before placing it upon the transplacer's head with her left hand. In her right, dimensions collapsed, condensing into her beloved Silverlight, a distortion in space taking the shape of a sword.

Her eyes settled on their leader. Her decision had been made seven years ago.

“Sieghardt, I will always act as I deem fit, but my comrades are more tightly bound than I. Give them the edicts they desire. It is too early to let others bleed while we breathe.”

No point in hiding, no point in running. But, in case…

“Lady von Helden, I trust you to introduce us in a flattering manner to that young Lord once the dust is settled?”
 
GARDEN OF DRAGNORAS, ARCRESTIA
Code by Serobliss
Lucille von Helden
Radiant Force
Female
21
Lucille

"Get down!"

Lucille was listening carefully to Sieghardt's propositions - ready to interject as soon as he was finished - only to be interrupted by his sudden command. An order that she certainly wouldn't have followed so readily if not for Amaryllis. A somewhat gentle, but quick and powerful jab to the back of Lucille was enough to get her down just in time and not question it any further.

Listening in, the young woman certainly didn't like this at all. Sharing the same sentiment as mostly the rest of the group had as the knight cohort finally moved on. With Astrid being the most eager to do justice, Corbin and Fredrich bickered about some magnetism. Facing whatever feelings of unease washed over her from the west with a sort of simple-minded determination, Lucille spoke up as well.

"Orders?" Confused at how Astrid seemed to ask for permission. Nearly even begging so as she sought support from the rest of them. "There's nothing to contemplate about, but only one road to walk." She shook her head. "There are people in need of aid, so we'll grant them our strength with our heads held high." Before turning her head towards Amaryllis.

"I... certainly could." In the time they had known each other, Amaryllis had to be aware that Lucille was more of a direct sort. In fact, even having quite a dislike for the pretentious high stuck-up sorts? While some rulers believed the common folk existed solely to serve the King, there were also those convinced that a Ruler was nothing without their people. Considering their current situation, that was maybe even a little bit ironic.

"As far as I am concerned, I am just a simple ruler from a faraway kingdom..." And it wasn't like she couldn't posh up. Especially if it was about inflating their very own titles. Nonetheless, Lucille did wonder if maybe, just maybe, the Helden household had existed even to this time.



 
Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Sieghardt Hauss
Azure Will
Male
27
Sieghardt
It reeked of a stench that he was once familiar with, long ago before his sense of smell was lost to time. Before the times when he held his first loaded rifle, which was coincidentally the first day he saw someone become food for those beasts. Perhaps the trauma had stuck to him. He couldn't remember, but after that moment, for odd reasons unknown to him or anyone, he lost his sense of smell.

However, why was it that now, after transcending reality and reverting the flow of time backward, his body decided to act differently? Not only could he pick up the scent of the foul beasts' miles away from his location, but it nearly forced him to crush his noise under his palms, almost as if he was about to vomit. Thankfully, to save himself the embarrassment of being the first to eject his previous meal, he took a deep breath and got a hold of himself before the scent had gone by. As he was more focused than before, he could tell easily tell that the rotting smell was similar to that of the Euclidian beasts.

Many questions arose from that information alone. Did the Euclidians exist before the establishment of Terra? Are those people, who spoke of Felbeasts similarly to how Terrans would put it—know of their existence? If so, what happened in the past that had forced them to sleep, and awaken after a new civilization was created above the surface? Not much of it was making much sense. However, now was not the time to ponder and fall into inner inquiries. He was the designated leader, after all. As the highest-ranking officer of this small group, everyone entrusted him to be the one issuing orders. Without his guidance, their venture into the past would have been wasted.

Sieghardt nodded to Astrid's and everyone else's comments. "I'm not... exactly opposed to the idea of offering help." Siegfried cleared his throat, "Friedrich is right as well. Our performance history is abysmal, although it's safe to say that that only applies to the lieutenants we've faced. But let's take into account what we've just witnessed. That medieval knight from earlier gave the Euclidians a name—Felbeasts, which means that the people of this era are well aware of their existence. This could mean that they are already capable of defending themselves against the Euclidians, don't you all think? After all, in the records stated in the stone tablets from the past, the era of Dragnyr survived for 6,000 years."

It wasn't odd to believe that the people of Dragnyr were well equipped against apocalyptic threats. Syntheticas alone was a technology that Terra could not understand, and its capabilities were far superior to that of the modern nuclear warhead.

"But... Hm." Sieghardt frowned. This decision would carry the consequences of revealing themselves to those knights. For what would occur afterward would be of great mystery, but it wasn't strange to believe that it wouldn't end well if they were to offer their aid.

After a few seconds of battling his thoughts in his own thoughts, Sieghardt took a fresh breath of air and nodded, making his choice known before his awaiting comrades.

"Alright. Let's go ahead of those knights and confront those beasts before they make it to the village. From how that man spoke earlier, they're probably not very far from here. Those with a Synthetica will guard the front, while those without it offer support from the back. The usual formation."

•⠀•⠀•⠀•⠀•​

Sieghardt's predictions were proven correct as the group advanced through the forest, directly into where the wave of aura came from, venturing into the thick woods with nothing but their feet and stamina. Awaiting for them was a confrontation of what looked to be the spoken Felbeasts, armored by a shadowy fog that surrounded their bodies, leaving only their eyes to glow red in animosity, awaiting to bare their fangs against the flesh of its prey.

However, it was strange. All would realize that the Felbeasts looked nothing like the Euclidians, yet their aura and scent were nearly identical. The Euclidian beasts were organic creatures with a physical body that was capable of bleeding and having their organs plucked out of them. The felbeasts on the other hand looked like mere illusions. A nightmare that one would dream of when they were a child, and not an actual, physical creature.

And if any were to dig their blades deep into these felbeasts, they would realize that upon tearing through their black fog—they would be left with nothing but a black smoke that would disappear within seconds. No carcasses would remain after killing one.

The felbeasts varied from beast to beast. Some imitated that of a wolf and the others of other variety of animals that would usually dwell in the forest. A double-horned horse? There was even a horned rabbit the size of a rhino. Only one feature stuck to each of them—their red, glaring eyes that spoke of terror.

"Looks like they're trying to surround us first. Astrid, refrain from using your pyrokinetic abilities to avoid a forest fire. The same goes for you, Friedrich. Unless absolutely necessary, let's not try and stir ourselves into bigger trouble than necessary."
 
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Some Random Forest, Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Amaryllis Evenings
Silverlight Noblesse
Female
25
Amaryllis

“A ruler of a faraway kingdom? You demean yourself, Lady von Helden, when you are a hero-king who has shed blood on countless occasions for your displaced people,” Amaryllis replied, swaying her head in a rhythmic manner. “Who else but yourself could bond with another protectorate of noble blood?”

Her heart beat well, and her body adjusted to match its pace. The stench grew strong, but her will would never fade. The chorus of the dead called for evisceration and dynamism, violence to play in this dance of death. Their approach passed in the span of minutes, any shred of verdant aroma overwhelmed by the dread wave brought forth by those Felbeasts, and Amaryllis, unfettered by the same concerns of environmental destruction that her comrades held, stood at the vanguard, an ancient song on her lips. The wind brought with it ill tidings, the grass itself seemed to wilt as they drew closer, and somewhere, far behind, humans were preparing evacuations, desperate to get moving before the tide came and crashed.

She closed her eyes. It was just like old times.

And yet, there was one change.

Back straight, eyes forward, sword arm raised, Amaryllis shot a fearless smile towards the monsters that presented themselves as the villains of this world. Felbeasts, creatures of nightmare, the beauty of nature corroded by malcontent and malice. And yet, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Such formless, fleshless vessels.”

The only words she needed to address a motley horde as this. She would grant, then, the demise that they so desired. Raising a universe honed to a razor’s edge the Knight of Rose let out a sigh between clenched teeth as she sank into her stance, muscles growing taut, Synthetica core growing hot. A horde of creatures with a singular intent, eyes aglow with terror, was nothing to the intimate arrogance of the Euclidians. The Felbeasts drew near, and the wind died down.

Conflict measured in heartbeats, measured to music that played in her mind and nowhere else.

Amaryllis danced, a leaping pirouette as her Silverlight flashed, and in her wake, not even blood remained of the beasts caught in her path. Like smoke, they were scattered in the wind. Like darkness, they were effaced by light.

Oh, what joy!

Finally, she could kill!
 
Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Corbin Marino
Insolent Wrath
Male
22
Corbin


By the time Corbin had collected at least all the magnets he'd managed to keep track of, Fredrich had closed the distance between them so that he unexpectedly found himself face to face with the Lieutenant Colonel on finishing his excavations. A much larger hand engulfed his own, magnets and all, as Fredrich looked him in the eye, his face just a little too close for comfort. "Uh..." Corbin leaned back slightly, unsure what to make of this gesture.

"You're not so bad, are you," Fredrich said as he scooped up the entire collection of magnets. Something in his tone felt... different than usual, although Corbin couldn't put his finger on it.

"Um... thanks...?"

Then he smiled a rare smile as he pocketed the magnets and walked away. It wasn't as though the man never smiled, but, like his tone of voice a moment ago, something felt different about this one. It was all very odd. And very intriguing. "You sure like your magnets, huh..." Corbin muttered, as he watched him go, and made a mental note to keep a special eye out for magnets from now on. Hopefully those were common enough in Dragnyr. But puzzling over the enigma that was Fredrich would have to wait for another time.

A familiar weight descended over his head- his helmet, courtesy of Amaryllis. Oh, right. Guess I'll still be needing that. He flashed her a grateful smile while fastening the chin strap, then returned his attention to the ongoing discussion.

Though there was never really any doubt that Seighardt would assent- he shared the same memories and regrets as the rest of them, after all- those few seconds it took for him to make up his mind were agonizing. Meanwhile, Amaryllis and Lucille discussed making introductions to that nobleman they'd seen earlier, which was a good idea, sure, but Corbin couldn't bring himself to focus on it, his mind homing in on the tantalizing prospect of a fight.

When the order finally came, the directive to support from the rear, as usual, felt like a stinging jab. No, more like a straightjacket. His spirits sank. 'The usual formation', seriously? How long do I have to wait before I can fight for real? he wanted to shout, but didn't. Instead, the old paltry consolations trickled in, almost maddening in themselves. You're more useful in a supporting role... They can do more than you, anyway... Any role is better than none... A battle is still a battle...

Once they were underway, his mood lifted somewhat. Now, things were different. Who knew what might happen? The order might well become obsolete on contact with the enemy. That was what put him at ease- well, as much as he could be, with the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. At first, he worked off his nervous energy by worrying the straps of his helmet with his free hand, but a certain stillness was sweeping over him- like the tension of a coiled spring- as it always did before a battle, finally bringing him to a complete halt at the sight of the Felbeasts. A metallic hum filled the air as he activated his vibroblade.

There! That was the enemy! He took them in with a single glance. Weird, shadowy things, demonic, yet almost cartoonish. Clearly not sentient, like the Euclidians. His anger would mean nothing to them. There would be little satisfaction in making them suffer. Still, it was something. An outlet for the gnawing hunger that begged for release.

Seighardt's instructions flowed in one ear and out the other. Don't destroy the forest, yada yada. Got it. Fortunately, those concerns didn't apply to him.

And he was done waiting.

"Hah!" With a cry, he lunged and slashed wildly, meeting a wolf-shaped thing as it emerged from the mist. He felt the jar of impact with flesh and bone, but then the creature vanished like smoke, leaving not even a trace of blood behind. Strange. Strange, and distinctly unsatisfying. But hey, it was dead! That was good enough.

Everything that followed was a blur. The distractible Corbin that chased after every fleeting whim was wholly subsumed by a laser-like focus, mind and body melded together in a singular purpose, seeming to act as one. A new energy had filled him since their leap through time, and now, feeling the strain on his muscles and the resounding impact of solid bodies meeting his weapon, he felt truly alive. He was a machine, and yet, he was alive. So he rent. He tore. He shredded, and the fog monsters dissipated one by one.

This was "Marino the Madman".

Darting in and out, stabbing and slashing and dodging in the nick of time, he minded his allies only so much as was needed to avoid a collision. Unbeknownst to him, a crazed grin had spread from ear to ear. Also unbeknownst to him, in his adrenaline-fueled state, he'd acquired a number of superficial scratches from his impetuous charge, reflexes honed through years of practice just barely saving him from more serious injury.

There was little use for his anomaly, in this thick fog, but he found an opening and tossed the first object to meet his fingers- a bright yellow keychain ornament- into the air above a giant horned rabbit. On swapping, he angled his descent to plunge his blade through the creature's skull, landing on one knee when it vanished. A fanged boar charged at him, tusks raised, and he jammed his sword down its throat, leaving black wisps to coil around the blade.

This was fun.

Distantly, he was aware of someone laughing. He didn't know the voice was his.
 
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Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Fredrich Alexander
Skypiercer
Male
27
Fredrich
The mellowed mood of accumulating frustrations bloomed into a most incredulous flower as he realized that his own, very reasonable worries, were not held within the minds of his compatriots. Seventeen mental sighs later, he turned around as he allowed himself to ignore the rest of his allies' comments, thinking of better things, things which were no longer. Until, that most fortuitous descent of heavenly intervention manifested within the palms of an otherwise ordinary man. He was baffled, but it revealed not in his gesture, but instead in his sweeping steps which loomed itself to Corbin's front as he surveyed his cavernous pockets for their treasure. And, as he revealed themselves to the Lieutent Colonel, heralding from nowhere-town Brevet, distraught by the mass of his self-pitying, a light shone as the sunlight blinked off of their immaculate grey. Pebbles whose shapes mattered little, if at all, before the meaning of their form, and the powers which they contained; there were no preference, whether A, G, or T, they were all of splendorous meaning and depth no man or creature could emulate through personage or intention. Marvels of the geological, primeval embers of simpler eras, where all which mattered was the rock and that which they produced through their massivity. By simply glancing upon them, he was reminded of what had kept him sane, all throughout, and that was the gentle touch of something of his own character. Something which felt less alien, than he felt amidst others of his own ilk.

Before Corbin could comprehend the near-instants of which Fredrich spent in deep introspection, his large hand had already encompassed Corbin's own, and a penetrating gaze crossed the observable gap, locking eyes, before falling deeply upon the stone once again. Pairing words with feeling, for the first time in years: "you're not so bad, are you," he said, a cool warmth permeating his words, as he slid the magnets from Corbin's palm and into his own, with little regard for asking. The mere display of their existence was proof that he deserved them, and as he turned around, putting all but one of the 'bullets' into his own expansive greatcoat pockets, he cracked a genuine smile, as he meandered away. This was a debt owed, and hopefully, more to come. The kid had a knack for miscellaneous accumulation, things had always seemed to appear from his pockets, without so much as an effort. An invaluable skill, one he wished he had himself, but since he does not, and cannot help but lose more things than he's ever gained, he will have to rely on him. All, obviously, without saying a word. His intentions were obvious, from mere glance, he thought, forgetting his own skill, one of deception, allowing him to fool all others so as to believe he could make do on his own. Which he'd never could. After all, no one can 'make do.'

His spirits would remain high, even as his mood mellowed into ordinarity after the brief ecstacy of reclaimed wants. The Umbral Princess playing large part in that matter, for her refusal to adopt military discipline, whilst a normalcy at this juncture, addled his internalized ire, drilled within the arts of war as he was from the earliest of ages. He was an exemplar, both in how he was presented, and in how he thought internally, of controlled force. Force, after all, is only good if controlled, as he was taught, and as he thought. They were a part of a military operation, and he was a military officer. The remissful cravings of his own synthetica-bound caused his mental eye a twitch, but he made little of it known to the others. He knew very well that, all the whilst he abhored her behaviour, her skills were of no compare as she danced her way amidst distress and braved terrorful dangers as if they were but nothing before her eyes. He had envied her, for a time, carrying such strength of character, or perhaps world-ending aloofness, making the disparity of danger invisible.

She had survived, somehow, he finalized. That was enough proof he needed that he did not need to patronize nor lecture her as to her methodology. The same would apply for the phoenix, though admittedly, she carried few of the gravest sins a soldier could bear, unlike her equal amidst the front. Grooming a woman for battle appeared a splendid option, should one produce a warrior. He, and her, share that in common. Though, he knew little of her history. Notoriously tight-lipped about that, if not other things, she was.

As his thoughts meandered, so too had he before a clearing. With the others at his back, discussing the short, yet punctual matters necessary before one commit themself before the potentials of finality, his keen vision allowed himself to penetrate the foliage, and estimate the possible layout of the next few hundred meters. Though he could not, technically, see so far with mere vision alone, he did not need to rely on it. His knowledge would aid him within environs alike this one, well-versed in forestry-battle as his own nationality had been drilled within it. An ancient kingdom, built out from under the leaves, and traversing in boredom throughout them made him keenly aware of their make-up. It helped, greatly, that the two forests, if divided by time, shared the same root, or family, in the very least. He did not know if this was where his own home had been, in fact, he doubted it, but the roots of trees spread far, and for long. What he could see of the town, if now more subdued due to reaching into the forestry, was no landscape he was familiar with. The hills protruded, whereas his own lands were of flat character, but all the more reason to perform his best.

He had bought into the joke which was the possibility to change destiny, if only to lie to himself. He could do nothing else but to do so, were he to abide the rules of hierarchy as he was taught. Though the others could not know, they should certainly praise whatever they put faith in that he was not their leader, and that Sieghardt instead held the reigns.

Though the information which congealed amidst the aether of ideas inbetween the gathering were no surprise to himself. The facts were right, the previous had survived for millennia, and they appeared versed in their dangers, as would be obvious. Lest they would not have survived. The names taken by the threats were of little character, what was meaningful was that they bore the same sensation, though an anomaly would not know of the heartache which strangles upon their appearance. He could not fault him, nor the other anomalies, for their willingness to do battle, but he had not the heart to encourage it, and so he remained silent. Taking in what was said, whilst contributing nothing on his own, as it was unneeded at this time. His reasonable contribution had already been made, and his own implied stance cemented: that an engagement would do them good, at the risk of danger. A risk of danger which, to his dismay, was rapidly discarded by all those who knew no reason. Though a losing war made lunatics of all who survive, he expected something different than battlemongers, but he was no one to talk, or think. He didn't want to be here, or anywhere, any longer.

And when the word to move out was given, he took point, if for no other reason than because he was further into the thicket than the rest. Having already anticipated that they would take the plunge. He did not like it.


Whilst they had wandered, Fredrich would settle in rhythm behind the Dancer and the Fiery Feather, in accordance with formation marching. It had taken some time, though nowhere near what he had ordinarily expected. He learned, then, that his own awareness of a Euclidean's typical aural signature would not apply without experiencing it enough times to fully understand their differences. Another variable to add on to his dismay of it all, uncertainty, whilst unmanagable, did not make a warrior happy. War, after all, was about nothing other than to make the uncontrollable as controlled as can be. But nevertheless, he had managed with worse, and the appearances of the Felbeasts were as cartoonish as his own existence- kindreds of a kind- but only one can be more misfortunate than all others, and though he would not admit it, to himself or others, he was used to his own displeasure, and would not part with it easily.

As they all filed into proper echelon, readying themselves for the strike, he planted his feet firmly, and prepared to do as he usually does, before Sieghardt's words rang like bells. He should take care of the environment. Certainly, no one would desire to see their forest turned to cinders, he nonetheless begrundgingly abided: "as you say, Colonel." It did not suit his tastes to engage in battle whilst holding his own hands behind his back, it was not how one would do battle intelligently. But he understood Sieghardt's intentions, and he knew too well of him to doubt his abilities. Doubtlessly, he had thought about their prospects after the battle; having laid waste to a forest, damaged the landscape, and then walking into a city to ask for accomodations and assistance would do them little service. He understood this well, but did not like it.

He liked very little, nowadays, it would seem.

He stood inbetween the Synthetica and the anomalies, right-front of Sieghardt, overseeing the battle which mere moments would soon begin with a nonsensical abyssal danseuse ridding herself of all sensibility and rushing head-first into confrontation, whilst baffling his own awareness of battle and doctrine, and everything, making do with her own unreplicable logic, throwing himself further beneath the metaphorical heel of the world which appeared, very much, to dislike his own presence within it.

With the obligatory pitying over, and all preamble for the battle done and finished, he surveyed, truly, the opposition. Their shadowy expanse paired well with Amaryllis, meaning that she must, somehow, stand a good chance against them, if for no other reason than they both like dark colours. But even so, the myriad shapes of the opposition caused his own mind to swell with potentialities, and their way of war abided none of them: wolves would rush senselessly forward, and bears would prowl the periphery, caring not for the charcteristics for which their shapes would abide. Meaning that, perhaps, the shadow congealed the forms of life, and dominated them beneath a greater mind's schemes. The possibilities which this hypothesis entailed were ghastly, and his own thoughts of their undertaking this battle shook beneath the possibility.

He would not allow a single one of them fall to this threat.

And so, as Amaryllis sprang forth, like the literal spring she was, he witnessed her eye-watering carnage: movements which hold no right within any school of combat he had ever studied melded together into flurries, displaying their worth in the bodies laid to bare, metaphorically. All she slew, from winged-bears incapable of flight, to six-legged boars bearing tusks the size of his own arms, were but noise in the air devoid of form. One could even doubt their presence upon the landscape itself, were it not for the foliage they displaced as they proceeded to encircle them.

A creature approached himself and Sieghardt from the side, rushing with droplets of shadow secreting through the gaping maw it produced: consumption clear within it's mind. A beast of 12-feet, far taller upright, rampaged and stomped with furious steps on it's approach. A veritable horde at it's back of such size that their individual forms melded into an amorphous mass.

Fredrich held firm to the bullet-magnet he held, and referred to Sieghardt's orders, abiding them, for he knew that if he could not kill them by hand, he could not kill them at all. In a manner of reconnaisance by force, he moved around Sieghardt, grasping his bullet, and flicked it at the opposition. An arch of lightning linked him, and his kinetic projectile, whipping from side to side, as he pierced the opposition, before recalling the bullet into his own hand, completing the loop, causing his hand to spark.

To his abject surprise, he had laid complete and utter waste to the enemy. But he did not allow his own bewilderment to affect the battle. After all, whilst he had slew many, they were but droplets before the tide, and the mass which he had displaced, allowed another, elsewhere, to rise forth. And as it did, he flew there, alike the lightning with which he is imbibed, and held his 'bullet' within hand, utilizing it as a projector for his internalized strength, refusing to brave the potential dangers of exposing his own flesh to their touch.

With burned grass at his back, and the slight scorch of the bark upon the trees in his wake, he collided upon the next before him with lightning arched in such a fashion as to resemble a blade, and slashed.

A vertical slice, feet planted; flowing into a horizontal, allowing his intentions to land upon the next creature, a hellish rabbit of ludicrous size. Concise strikes, focused on no beauty, purpose only in killing, divided it's legs from under it, and before long, with lightning-quickness, twained it's sides from their twins. A carcass would remain where it had been, but nothing did, to his own benefit. He did not need to care about his steps. A while would pass, but no meaningful length of time, before he had swelled the next side, and his blade whimpered out under his control, allowing his heat to expell through his skin in likeness of steam.

The toll of his strength caused his body to sweat quite profusely, but it did not linger, for the heat of the source of his strength always caused it to evaporate near-instantly. Due to this, he had to eat quite a large amount, merely to allow his body to cope with it all. Though, he had not approached mastery enough where it was an impossible task.

Nonetheless, he moved back to the center, protecting the interior of their formation, so as to allow the rest of the soldiers to fight without worry of strikes from behind.

But he saw something which shook his every fibre as he prepared to return, and that was the sight of the veritable treasure trove given human form charging into the horde. A cackling that pierced his temple, causing a vein to burst.

He planted his feet into the ground, grabbed a hold of the T, loosened his shoulder, sprang back, and recoiled his whole arm forward, a streak of lightning joining his hand with the recipient of the T, an unnamed, unimportant shadow-critter of little character. But, what was important, was that it was in the periphery of Corbin's vision, which no doubt at this point, was as tinged in smoke as it was in littered wounds. The depth of which did not matter, what mattered was that, though he surprised the Lieutenant Colonel in skill, having not displayed much due to the circumstances of the battles in Terra, he showed qualities of rampant abandon.

As his bullet coiled back along the lightning spring it had flown, the recoil of grasping it causing his whole body back two steps, the mound in the dirt which it had impacted sprayed dirt into the air. Dirt which would perfectly accomodate an environment for the soldier to bring another soldier back into reason:

"Laugh your ass back in line!"

His voice had never before boomed so high, the fear of losing the trinket collector to his own machinations forever causing his frustrations to manifest, though he was, also, minding the potential fallout of a broken formation caused by a blood-starved soldier falling for the fixations of machinated slaughter. Though civilians would never understand, a soldier is easily swayed by the blood of their actions. The surreality gripping them, molding them in instants, from commencement until finality, in moments where strange urges are given their undesired hold over the mind.

Corpsmen fetching nonexistent corpses, soldiers firing hails of bullets which only they can see, and charges into the distant horizon, far beyond their reach, all for no other reason than to entertain the act of doing their task. They fetch corpses because they fetch corpses, and likewise a soldier shoots and charges because they shoot and charge. They were all primates, at root, and no one, no matter their strength of mind, would fall foul before the line between what they should, and what they must do.

Though, in truth, whilst all that is truly, ultimately his unmentioned doubts for the unproven combatant caused his outburst, the difference between Corbin and Amaryllis, in battle though they are two of a kind, was ultimately Fredrich's experience with them, and the lingering worries about the nature of the Felbeasts. Caution, and controlled force, are the method which he was taught, and was the method through which endless wars were won, if admittedly never against the Euclideans. But were they of comparable strength,no doubt they would prove no different, unless devilish deities sought to manipulate even that.

However, he had no time to linger more than the instants necessary to give his reprimand, for even whilst he reflected on his own actions, and the reasons for them, he was already relocating towards another breach, caused by the myriad slaughter of opposing forces, funneling the endless tide which remained away and to their side. Ever growing tendrilous masses, as seen from above, looped in and around, but his own bullet-whip allowed his feet to remain planted in the center, as he now was, whilst both eliminating the opposition, and funneling them back within the arcs of the others, so that some manner of prevailing tactics could exist within an otherwise lawless landscape of blood-starved beasts in human clothing.

He sighed, mentally, again. But it would work. His end was nigh, if this was how it would go.

Clearly, he was too negative. He could not really comprehend the positive of their staving the tide. He was too busied by controlling himself, by abiding tradition, by conforming to what he had been taught, and had displayed. All of it weighed on him.

Winning was not what he fought for, since long ago. He fought to fight, just as he had disparaged his compatriot for doing.

A hypocrite.
 
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Leonhardt / Mysterious Felbishop / Diatristan | Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
The unforeseen turn of events had directly caused the town to be ensued in chaos, the outfitted soldiers urging the townsfolk to evacuate before the arrival of the shadow swarm. Fortunately for Leonhardt, cautions were taken beforehand and so the clearing of civilians would be done before the Felbeasts could reach. With the last batch of noncombatants ejected to safety, the commander of the forces riled up his forces and separated them into squads, issuing different orders for each group.

Leonhardt tightened the grip on his mechanical battleax as he shouted his instruction, simultaneously channeling his mana into his primary weapon, in an effort to strengthen its potential for the upcoming battle. "This will be no ordinary battle," Leonhardt warned his peers, sensing that hundreds of felbeasts were marching into these very lands. The miasma from earlier told him everything he needed to know. The size of the horde and its intensity. Although it was difficult for him to discern whether or not high-level felbeasts were in the fray, he could only assume so. "as such, our purpose will be to split the shadow army into separate divisions and awaiting for Diatristan's and his force's arrival. I take it that we are deficient on holy magic users?"

The soldiers surrounding him would look at one another, with only a few raising their hands. Leonhardt nodded, understanding that his comment was the truth. "Unfortunate. The Chief Exorcist's skills are needed for us to purify the demonic wave without suffering heavy casualties. You know your objectives, slayers. Begin the operation!"

The final decree was issued, and Leonhardt led the charge with his team following behind him on horses, their weapons prepared for battle. The lack of an entrance gate and walls had made it easier for the forces to divide the moment Leonhardt raised his hand, signaling those behind him to split into their designated squads, each going their own path. "Cosette!" Leonhardt shouted the name of his sister, who would be presumably mounted on her separate horse behind him, "Your first priority will be to support me in my attack on the felbeasts. Those monstrosities will not allow you to recover the lost, so do not act out of line and remain positioned behind my cover! Your second priority will be to safely evacuate any civilians that might be caught in the crossfire. If it comes to it, I will divert the horde and make way for a safe evacuation!"

His speed increased as the surrounding miasma grew thicker, its revolting scent now nearly constant for everyone that had entered the field. Some with sensitive noises would equip a mask to rid themselves of the smell, while most continued to dash onward without concern. 'This is worrying. Felbeasts don't flock together like this unless their minds are synchronized. Linked to a specific creature that is capable of receiving corrupted signals...' Leonhardt frowned at the thought of a certain possibility. 'I can't imagine one of those being present so close to the nation's border. Unless it has learned that the princess' Synthetica is still in its early stages of development. An impossible turn of events. The only ones who know of that information are us Dragonslayers and the Paladins...'

Felbeasts visible from the distance, Leonhardt and his men tightened their stance and lowered their backs, forming into their striking position before the clashing. His mana concentrated into his battleax and his senses prepared for battle, the blonde dragonslayer would've had swung his first strike if it wasn't for his eyes obtaining unique information that his other senses weren't quite able to detect. He cued his steed for a halt, resulting in his men following suit as they had begun to realize the situation.


Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Sieghardt Hauss
Azure Will
Male
27
Sieghardt
Fragile but strong, and tenacious yet disorderly. The shadow creatures moved in swarms but their attacks were unsynchronized, making it easier for the six to handle their fair share without much trouble. A noticeable scratch or two on his shoulders from the fangs of the felbeasts that had gotten the better of him before its abrupt vanishing into the nothingness. He cast his worries elsewhere as he swung his iron knife into the jaws of the felbeast, one of many that took the form of a standard gray wolf from Terra, but sporting demonic accessories around its body excluding the fact that its flesh was comprised of visible darkness.

Minutes passed, and only now did he realize the maniacal laughter that was echoing throughout the forest. Compared to the notorious Corbin, he was not much of a fighter who enjoyed seeing his enemies minced into a paste. It was the entire reason why he was offered a commanding role on the battlefield. Others could steal the glorious spotlight - for him, it did not matter. What mattered was the conclusive decision that ended this entire conflict. He focused and observed the others while remaining on guard near Astrid's superior might. Taking cover behind her majestic broadsword that was used to cut down hundreds of felbeasts, he issued his next line command.

"We didn't come here to wage a full-scale war! Remain within the group circle and prepare for disengagement! The knights have begun their move!"

Sieghardt looked behind to confirm once again - the knights had mounted their horses and began the assault as predicted. It wasn't visible through the thickness of the forest, but thanks to his surgically enhanced hearing that he had received from the military prior to the war, he was capable of predicting movement from the other side of the terrain as long as there was heavy vibration.

It was difficult to guess the size of its forces. Competent or not, Sieghardt had no interest in sacrificing his men and accidentally getting entangled in their drama. How the civilizations of Dragnyr treat its foreigners was an unknown case that he was not interested in finding out. They were merely there to buy time for the civilians to evacuate and take their leave once the military arrives. Sieghardt, while he wouldn't mind greeting the knights and asking for their help to get into the cities, he was certainly not the type to jeopardize their freedom if it meant that the knights of this era disliked foreigners from different countries.

Regardless, once the sound of the approaching knights had become louder, he looked back to his group and shouted his order.

"Disengage and retreat! On me, now-!"

U2rk92w.jpg
Sieghardt laid his eyes on Lucille, Fredrich, Amaryllis, Corbin, and Astrid - before turning his sights back to Corbin. His vision focused past Corbin's physical form, deep into the forest behind one of the larger trees that companied this area. Before the black-haired madman stood a figure of a shadowy cloak, its shoulder covered in spikes and its inner body completely devoid of any color other than the darkness.

Its humanoid form was somehow terrifying. Like the other felbeasts before them, its body was completely engulfed in a dark mist that seemed to hover solely around its body. However, unlike the creatures around it, there was no hostility emitting from its aura and simply observed their battle from the distance, as if it played no role other than a mere observer.

Though, that would soon be a miscalculation on Sieghardt's part. Before he could warn his fellow anomaly he saw its cloak rise on its shoulder, revealing its dark arm and sharp claws. Not even a second to help process its movement, the unnamed figure shot a violently powerful shot that took a form of a flaming black arrow, piercing through the trees and branches as if it was made of paper, before the edge of the shot nearly pierced its target - Corbin until a foreign force came to the rescue a mere millisecond before the arrow could pierce through the anomaly's heart.

Leonhardt / Mysterious Felbishop / Diatristan | Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Too close for comfort! Barely missing its intended target thanks to his swift movement, Leonhardt carried the person in question and tightly locked him underneath his arm, restricting his movement until he was able to get into a much safer position, away from the Felbishop that had officially made its presence before the knights.

Leonhardt looked again to confirm the visuals, before asking the others to see if they are seeing the same creature before them. Their verbal agreement had almost led them certain that the individual standing far into the forest was truly, the Felbishop. A legendary creature infamously known as the Apostle of Death. He must admit, this was his first time officially seeing one with the naked eye, although that was far from his list of worries. Why did it suddenly decide to appear, especially under the daylight? It operated outside all civilizations in Dragnyr, and yet, here it was - standing before them like it wanted to. A truly terrifying figure of the mythologies that dates back thousands of years during the founding times.

As an abyssal creature, it was impossible to calculate its strength based on simple appearance or aura. Even so, Leonhardt's confidence did not waver. Would he be able to return home with a victory on his shoulders if he were to engage with the Felbishop? Difficult to say. Nor was the blonde interested in finding out.

"You folks need to leave this instant. Return to the town and find the last caravan before the cathedral. I left an emergency one in case situations like these would arise." Leonhardt demanded as he lowered Corbin onto his feet, freeing him from his hold. "Cosette! Take the civilians and leave the region. Leave this to us and report to Georg and Princess Evernight about the felbeast invasion near Aragona village! I'll return to headquarters once Diatristan's forces arrive!"

The situation had become increasingly dire. The Felbishop, surrounding itself with felbeasts of higher-level had surrounded them before he could even realize their presence. Luckily, an escape route was present for them to take. The obvious route to everyone's survival. He must stall the swarm until the paladins arrive, no matter the cost.

Then suddenly without warning, he felt the atmosphere weighing upon him, pressuring him to take part in the battle before he could see Cosette off. The felbeasts had begun their offensive, and the Felbishop from the distance had disappeared and reappeared near that girl with the dark azure hair. It was unbelievably fast, moving at the speed of sound, and its attacks were as deadly as the legends foretold.

Before Leonhardt could assist the maiden, the Felbishop extended its arms and slashed its claws from above.

...

Amaryllis on the hand other would realize that the unknown felbeast with the piercing gaze was aiming for the center of her chest, where the Synthetica was surgically installed.

 
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Some Random Forest, Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Amaryllis Evenings
Silverlight Noblesse
Female
25
Amaryllis

Flashes of lightning, tracing its magnetic lead, scored brightly through the shadowed masses. Each flickering of that electrifying light caught another glimpse of Corbin, his movements played out in disparate photographs, the madman spiralling down into the inertia of effective violence. Raijin was about as pleased with that as one may have expected out of an exemplar, of course, but compared to the toil of the last decade, any achievement must have been welcomed by Corbin. Yes. Shadow within shadow, wielding a moonbeam’s sliver, Amaryllis could feel it too. Her heart beating at a pace disproportionate to the effort she expended. Her mind swimming from a vertigo that did not match the dizzying maneuvers she performed. A leap, a spin, and the skull of a stag split like a log. Her heels clicked against the trunk of a tree, free hand grasping onto a thick branch as she hung from a higher vantage point.

A moment of reprieve. A moment to breathe. And a moment, of course, to hear Siegfried’s command.

The knights were coming, and the group had done enough. Enough? She heard it before she felt it, the revenants that guided her and chastised her letting out a mixture of brilliant cries. Excitement and fear, hatred and apathy, bipolar extortions pulling at both her instinct to fight and to flee. And beyond even that, that chant roared in her brain.

Felbishop! Messenger of Death! Wreathed in Black to Reap Thine Head!

And there it was. Made of ink that swallowed the dying light of day, a creature possessing an entirely different countenance from the impassioned Euclideans. Twas insubstantial like its flock, a black box of foreign expressions and impressions, but where the beasts expressed their impersonal inhumanity through disordered movements, this one possessed a stillness comparable to that of ascetics. Waiting. Analyzing. Understanding?

Acting.

A bolt, perfectly timed to catch Corbin at the moment he transplaced with another object. A quick death averted by only the timely arrival of a literal knight in shining armor. Swift indeed, to rescue someone without injury. A debt to be paid as well then, regardless of what the knight believed them to be. Amaryllis dropped to the ground once more, her lips quirking in Siegfried’s direction. The blond knight was not blind, after all. If, after witnessing Corbin’s teleportation and Raijin’s lightning, they could still be considered ‘civilians’, ones that ought to have evacuated with the others, then this was indeed the right time to travel back to.

But she did not take a step back.

Her eyes remained on the Felbishop, the blood in her veins boiling, even as her pale flesh cooled further. The smell of ozone seeped into her senses, a greater descriptor of the battlefields the Knight of Rose had traversed upon than any amount of blood and suffering. Memories flashed like Raijin’s lightning, failing to ever reach the Euclideans, scorching only errant environments, marring only the air. She drew in a breath, gazing into those red orbs. Against monsters that could dodge lightning itself, any chance of reaction could only come from the light that reflected into one’s eyes, the sparks that set off the nerves and synapses of the body and mind. None of them were ill-accustomed to facing off a far-superior foe. All of them had developed their own methods of coping with it.

For her, it was through focus.

And so, when the Felbishop charged, its movements not even surpassing that of bullets fired from civilian-issued firearms, Amaryllis was almost taken aback. Enough so that she did take a step back, her hand opening up to release the laws that bound her Silverlight and allow the universe within the bloom outwards. All was bathed in silver, and in the air laid twinkling starspecks, each falling as rose petals descending to earth. The Domain of the Abyss was established, and with that singular step, the Knight of Rose stood beside Raijin and Phoenix once more, flanking their anomalous leader as the Felbishop’s claws sundered the earth some distance away.

“It craves the core within us,” she spoke, folding another Silverlight out of the fabric of space. Her amethyst eyes set on Friedrich, before resting upon Astrid. “Will we turn tail, when this will haunt our trail?”
 
Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Corbin Marino
Insolent Wrath
Male
22
Corbin


Blue light streaked past the corner of his eye, followed by a thud, a fountain of loose dirt showering his left side, a clod striking his cheek- then a startlingly gruff shout. The laughter ceased. Sergeant? No, he's not here... Dazed, for the few mili-seconds he could afford, Corbin stared in the direction of the voice. Despite the uncharacteristic tone, it definitely belonged to Fredrich. Words that had yet to register trickled back into his mind. Laugh your ass back in...

Oh.

Oh.

I did it again, didn't I?

At the sound of rustling behind him and a faint tremor from below, he ducked and rolled just in time to avoid the swipe of a spectral bear's claw, came up again on one knee, and stuck the creature through the ribs, then scrambled to his feet and moved to rejoin the ranks. His stomach dropped at the sight that greeted him. Every object around him now stood out in sharp relief, as though a light switch had been flipped, and for the first time his vulnerability hit home. The few yards between himself and the circle of protection formed by his comrades morphed into a vast, turbulent gulf- in fact, the metaphor was pretty apt, what with all the shadowy creatures writhing around in a sea of mist. To rejoin them, he'd have to kill every single one in his path. Were there always that many of them? Not that he was afraid, exactly, but the exercise was no longer what he'd call fun. Now that he was no longer 'in the zone', time slowed to a dull grind, and he felt sapped of energy, a weight settling in his body as each blow felt more and more like work.

No doubt he was in for a scolding when circumstances allowed- not that he didn't deserve it. Alongside his anomaly, at least half the reason he'd always been asked to take on the sort of absurdly dangerous tasks any sane man would refuse was his ability to enter "the zone". Planting explosives directly on a Euclidian beast? Luring one into a minefield without getting blown up himself? Piece of cake, as long as nothing else existed for him outside of his task. Coming down off his adrenaline high, his squad mates had said, it always took him a few minutes to "come back to earth." He hardly remembered what he said in the immediate aftermath of those missions, and it hadn't mattered as long as there was no need to coordinate. Unfortunately, it became a liability in team missions, right now being a perfect example of that. And the laughing- that was new, he was pretty sure. Though he couldn't be any more messed up than anyone else who'd lived through what he had, he'd gotten drunk off his first taste of success, and totally lost it. I need to get it together.

Meanwhile, Seighardt was shouting orders, something about staying in the circle and preparing to disengage. Apparently those knights from earlier were coming back. I'm trying, dammit! he thought as he picked up the pace, savagely dispatching a giant winged squirrel. Seighardt's next shout cut off strangely. Something told Corbin to turn around, and he looked over his shoulder, straight into another pair of luminous red eyes, staring into his with a chilling impassivity that differentiated their owner from the rest of the horde. He just barely had time to take in the spiked cloak and extended arm before a dark blur came whistling at him from the outstretched hand, piercing through every obstacle in its quest to reach him. There was no time to move, no time to react. This was it. He was going to die.

Just like that, after everything.

Not rage, not terror, but dull astonishment met the realization. His grip on his vibroblade loosened. Then a sudden impact changed the scene entirely. Feet off the ground, his arms pinned tightly to his sides by what felt like another absurdly strong arm, he saw hooves striking the forest floor as it raced beneath him. Instinctively, he had let go of his weapon so he wouldn't unwittingly injure either himself or this interloper and their mount. When his feet touched the ground again some distance away, and his arms were freed, he looked up to see the same blond knight from before. His muscles went slack, his pulse racing, and he leaned over to brace himself with his hands on his knees as he let out a long, shaky breath.

Somehow, this was different from all his other close brushes with death. For one thing, it had caught him by surprise the first time he'd entered a fight expecting to win. Go figure, right? It was almost laughable. Guess that's what I get for letting my guard down. For another, though that thing that almost shot him was clearly intelligent, unlike the Felbeasts, it also didn't radiate sadistic glee like the Euclidians. What he'd sensed from it wasn't any kind passion directed toward him, just pure, calculating intent. Even thinking of it now sent chills up his spine.

"Ha... haha... Thanks- uh, I mean, thank you... Sir?" he stammered, scarcely aware of what he was saying. "Sir" was what you called knights, right? In any case, he was already issuing orders to some blond lady to escort the civilians, apparently paying no more attention to him. It struck Corbin as odd, even rattled as he was, that he'd told him and his companions to join the caravan. Did he not see them as professionals, or did he think their presence would interfere with their normal procedure? Or both? To be fair, he had almost gotten himself killed, but the others were holding their own pretty well, he thought.

Speaking of the others... Corbin straightened to get a better view of the battlefield, just in time to see the humanoid creature vanish from its place amidst the trees- now crowded with even more Felbeasts- to appear in front of Amaryllis. It loomed over her ominously, reminiscent of Terra's stories of the Grim Reaper. At the same time the knight spurred his horse to a gallop, but there was no way he'd reach her in time, with those razor claws already arcing toward her chest. Numerous contingencies flashed before his mind's eye in the span of a second. He was far away with no sword, and no time to find objects for swapping- and what would he do when he got there? One viable option remained.

In a smooth, practiced motion, his military issued pistol was drawn, aimed, and cocked. A ripple of silver, and Amaryllis vanished, but he was already squeezing the trigger. BANG! A crack of gunfire resounded. Corbin was a fair shot, thanks to the spatial awareness required for using his anomaly, and he should have hit that thing right in the head- or what passed for one. Training and instinct kicked in, and he fired a second time.

In the ensuing silence, he stood still as a statue and steadied his breaths, prepared to fire again.

 
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Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Fredrich Alexander
Skypiercer
Male
27
Fredrich

Their formation stood stalwart against the multitude of foes which sought to despoil it of what lay within. No number of fiendish claws could displace them, and certainly no creature could out-wit them. Such ideas seemed to carry themselves throughout the ranks of their cohort, permeating and mutating into evermore grotesque wants, but Fredrich would not fall to such musing; vehemently aware of the ill from which this whole battle embodied since the start, it all seemed rather easy, didn’t it?

As a fiendish serpent, whose body gave way to a tumorous growth bearing legs of sizable breadth, coiled against him, symphonicated through the rapturous orchestra of hissing growls, it sprung and loosed at him. Lightning clapped the creature, and as it evaporated into the barest of particulates, whatever strange force which held the abomination in place, for now displaced.

Through gazing at his magnet-bullet, its form scarred and red-hot glowing, he recognized that its service had been accounted for. Within the confines of his protective glove lie the remnants of a magnet done duly service, and now it was his time to mourn, if for mere moments, as he poured the molten form against the ground, where it quickly cooled. This combatant, who had walked a path truly trying alongside himself, had now been felled by the circumstances of life, never to again see the spark of its truest form ever again, discharged and disfigured as it now was.

The skyward-stab he had delivered against the serpentine creature had drained the golden from electromagnetism’s brilliance. It pained him to witness it, as he always had to, after prolonged battle. But he could ill afford to lay his gaze away for long, for as Sieghardt’s orders rolled out, and he abided, another creature hounded his form. This time of incomprehensible figure, melding against the backdrop in a vague attempt, perhaps, to camouflage itself against the scrim.

Though Fredrich reckoned it was wholly incapable of such logic on its own, he had far more sinister expectations, and would allow no respite of himself until the battle was done and over with. But, he did not have the time, in that moment, to reach and collect another magnet, and so he was forced to gamble. He could have taken the brunt, been felled, but he did not pursue such a dogged path, for in that moment he halted his trotting pace to the rear, to form-up alongside Sieghardt and the others.

He ceased, and instead rushed forwards, fell onto his knees, and lowered his head just underneath the fore of the ravenous creature’s charge. From beneath, he used the whole of his strength, and the momentum of his attacker, to upend its charge and force it against the grassy dirt ‘neath them both.

As he deployed every fibre of might within him, and kicked out from beneath, and upon the earth, he sent the creature onto its back, as it squirmed, and he grappled hold of it, before piercing it wholly through thunderous fist. And as it dispersed into the atmosphere, he rapidly retreated to behind the lines of the rest, so that he could take two moments of rest.

As he looked over the battlefield, he surveyed the routes he’d taken, easily done thanks to the marks he’d left behind him. But these moments were not allowed their time of fostering, for as he began to once again breathe, and stave off his steam, the troublemaker once again found himself within the thick of it. Fredrich could not believe his eyes, gaping with malice as they did within that split instance, he braced himself for what could have happened. His illest expectations had been correct, the intelligent commander which he had throughout it all expected, had at last revealed itself. Meaning that, what they had been fighting, was of no importance before the visage of that which commanded them.

Before he could process the entirety of it, and reach from within him the power to at least oppose fate, the Knight which they had overheard just prior showed itself, as per Sieghardt’s prediction. They acted fast, and rode faster, as the blonde looped through the horde, avoiding unnecessary conflicts, so as to better deliver the ‘civilian’ to safety.

His future magnets were safe for now, but certainly Corbin’s behaviour did not paint themselves trustworthy. But that was of secondary importance in these moments, as Fredrich gazed back at the creature, its form of humanoid resemblance, and of vague nostalgic nature. All of which boded no well to his extensively creative worries. The mere appearance of the foul ‘Commander’ already proved more credence to his worries than anyone ever should have.

He remained readied, but as per Sieghardt’s directive, he remained far readier to retreat than to fight, not that he thought they had a good chance at either.

He gazed to his rear, noticing Corbin being displaced from his first-row seat of the dirt upon the side of a truly chivalrous sight, a knight and his steed as their flight carries them across the battlefield. The blonde exchanged a word or three in between the two of them, far too distant for himself to overhear, and so all he could do in response was to oversee what the ‘Commander’ would next do. He clasped his fist around another magnet, from deep entombed within his greatcoat’s pockets, his glove still discoloured from the heat of the one prior, now spilled against the ground of the forest somewhere around where they all now fought.

They should retreat, they carried deeds far too heavy for their own egos to tousle, roil, and break against the banks. Were any amongst them to believe in the actual purpose of their quest, pursuing such senseless struggles as these in vain attempt to justify childish wants of bloodied fists and struggles to endure, then the purpose of their undertaking is corrupted from beginning unto end.

Aye, they should retreat, lest they spend time until they can no longer. As he began to raise his arm, the shape of the Commander which he had locked eyes with until then, vanished into the aether. His dreadful nostalgia accentuated in a single moment, as he lowered his hand and prepared to be intercepted. But, he was not the target, instead it was Amaryllis who would next face the brunt of the creature’s movements.

Rapid instants then shot past all of them, as creature, warrior, soldier, and fiendish overlord all grasped with the instantaneity of violence which simultaneously flowered.

And when next he knew, Amaryllis stood beside him, and the others.

He had seen the unfathomable process through which the fiend had targeted her, and it did not bode well for their plan of action. Naturally, Amaryllis made her thoughts known to the lot of them, and though Fredrich had wanted to ignore the actions of the ‘Commander’ as mere coincidence, he recognized that it would do them little good to ignore the matter of fact to which they are now tied.

“Colonel,” he began, having taken adequate time to reflect on what Amaryllis sought to make known to them all in strange haiku’d diction… Or something of that sort… “I believe our chances at retreat are over with.” He loosened his shoulders, and stretched his limbs, he could already tell he was beginning to approach the threshold for where his own power could well and easily destroy him beneath its sheer force.

“As such, I think we have no other option than to coordinate with the knights--- they may be more aware of how to fight them than w-”

A crack of the air, and a sizzled hiss which soared across them, and parted the sound around which it flew. A gunshot, and a blown fuse. Irritation blared, he could already tell what was happening without having to acknowledge it through any measure of action.

He readied himself, adopting a combative stance. Having seen the Commander’s exceptional… Teleportation abilities, he already knew that he could do little against the threat were he to adopt a proactive stance. Therefore he had no other option than to react.

When next it strikes, and wherever it might do so, he had no other option than to react with unbridled force; they could definitely not afford to limit themselves against this phantasmal Commander.

He hated this, very much. He could only hope that the Knights were competent enough to save this ramshackled team from itself.

Fredrich then clenched his fist, as he stepped forward, hand sparked as he adopted a defensive stature. In vain attempt to somehow entice the phantom to target him, as opposed to the shooter just behind, seemingly unaware of the graveness of their situation.

He hoped it was an unnecessary action on his part, that the fiendish beast would merely turn tail and run, with the tide at its rear, fleeing beyond the horizon. Or that it would, in the very least, target the Knights who have more than 10-minutes of experience in fighting these creatures. But, if it wouldn’t, better it attack him than them.

He cracked his knuckles, a warrior’s nobility carried by his immaculate stature, as he prepared for any eventuality which he might come across. With a magnet in each hand, he was equipped no matter the possibility.

A furious grin enraptured from deep within him, plastered against his cheek as a mental sigh, too, came just thereafter. But he certainly hated this too.
 
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Leonhardt / Mysterious Felbishop / Diatristan | Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Felbishops.

Known for their calculating behavior and shrewd nature, dissimilar to that of the beasts that share the same appellation, 'Fel'. Their origin is unknown and their motives are unclear to most that have researched their behavior since ancient times, making it difficult for combatants to correctly counter their attacks.

Its speed boasted no talent, especially when it struck the lady that seemed well-armed and trained. In the eyes of a honed warrior like Leonhardt, its movements were predictable at best, and with the use of mana to enhance one's perception, the Felbishop's actions weren't difficult to track. Although, that was only to be expected. Felbishops are known for their astute style. Meaning, that there was a high chance that the Felbishop was testing the waters with its opponents.

The blonde dismounted from his steed and tapped onto its armor, feeding it converted mana that acted as an instinctive command to the horse, ordering it to follow his sister. The moment his foot stepped onto the forest soil his feet zapped in electricity, pushing him forward with a force that could not be seen with the naked eye until he voluntarily stopped in the realization that the Felbishop's cheap attack was unsuccessful.

He stood with his mechanical ax infused with ice magic, almost awkwardly as he took a moment to assess the situation at hand.

Was this some sort of a domain ability? A rare sight at best, but curiosity was piqued when Leonhardt was able to partially assess the situation on hand. Questions arose from the depths of his mind but he knew that there was no time to spare when the Felbishop's deathly gaze eyed all it could view. For now, he would fight alongside them with caution. From how they were acting, Leonhardt had already made up his mind that these were no ordinary civilians.

Leonhardt remained confident that he alone, could exorcise that fiend. Holy magic wasn't his strongest suit, but the power of the celestial might was not necessarily a requirement when exterminating a demonic being. It merely assisted one's efforts greatly. Like the felbeasts surrounding him, the Felbishop were not immortal to physical attacks.

Then, he heard a sound that he was sort of familiar with. Was it the sound of gunpowder? He couldn't necessarily tell until his vision fell onto the young man that he had just saved - ignoring his previous orders to run, and instead, using a strange mechanical weapon to attack the Felbeast. A rifle of ridiculous design was his first thought, until he was beginning to become suspicious.

Arcrestia produced ranged weapons, such as rifles and cannons. However, the rifle that the man was using was certainly not of the Arcrestian brand. From its design to usage, everything about that hand-held 'rifle' screamed a foreign design and manufacturing.

Nonetheless, the Felbishop did not move from its comfort zone. The pellets fell from mid-air the moment they reached the Felbishop's invisible barrier, removing all kinetic force from the material before it fell onto the earth, showing that it was immune to normal attacks.

"No such weapon will ever wound a monster of such caliber!" Leonhardt exclaimed towards Corbin's direction, "Only weapons sharp and powerful enough to slash through its invisible armor will suffice."

Leonhardt concentrated his gaze at the Felbishop and awaited for its next procedure. The Felbishop's target was clearly the lady that had established this domain, and there was no guarantee that it would even respect his presence, and instead focus on its assassination. Fortunately, he had already extended his spatial awareness around the domain. If push comes to shove, he could always rely on his grimoire to grant him holy essence powerful enough to force a retreat on the monstrosity.

Confidently he stepped forward, and another followed, until his feet dashed towards his foe, and his ax swung from above with immense force, causing the first strike against the idle Felbishop.


Unnamed Forest in Dragnyr
Code by Serobliss
Sieghardt Hauss
Azure Will
Male
27
Sieghardt
He could hardly keep up with the knight's strikes against the humanoid Felbeast. What followed after the first strike was a series of barrages, his sapphire ax majestically swinging from all directions as its handler was capable of keeping the Felbeast busy with its impressive skill and speed. Its crushing might enough to cause a ripple effect on the surface of the domain, Sieghardt awed at the sight of the knight gradually cornering the humanoid Felbeast with each offensive.

Sieghardt heard his comrade's concerns loud and clear. They were prepared for battle, once again ready to put their life on the line to oppose a being that could possibly rival the Euclidians they failed to defeat in the past. How foolishly heroic. It didn't take a genius to know that this group required intensive training and guidance before it could hold its own. Their confidence might have been boosted after slaughtering dozens of creatures that were as fragile as a wine glass, but Sieghardt was never the type to allow his confidence to get the better of him.

"We have a distraction." Sieghardt pointed out, without having to use any gestures to let the team know what he meant. "We're in a foreign territory. Let's not get ahead of ourselves and risk our lives on an issue that isn't our own. It's official. We'll move below the radar once we get out of this god-forsaken place. And besides... " Sieghardt lightly chuckled under his breath, "We're all about to drop dead of starvation if we don't take care of ourselves until morning. I can't even remember the last time I was able to hydrate myself."

Sieghardt stepped back and pointed in behind him, "That knight will be our scapegoat. It feels disgusting to use someone to sacrifice for our benefit - but look at him. I have a feeling he'll be the one following our trail once this fight concludes. Get us out of here and land us the furthest away from the battlefield with your capabilities, Amaryllis."
 

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