“...And SOLD! For 800,000 to Salazar Kaine!” The climactic ring of the auctioneer’s voice was followed by a satisfying smack of a gavel against the podium he stood at. The man, front and center on a stage, wore a white suit with gold embellishments so that he could really fit into the role as the face of this seedy underground event. His hair was greased with copious amounts of gel, the slicked back helmet-like hairstyle catching the light with a bright shine to the normal black color of it. Gently, he brushed the mic just out of the way so it didn’t catch and magnify his voice as he smiled a wide and evil grin with one tooth replaced by a diamond. His other hand pointed up in the air and drew a circle in the air…which seemed to be the gesture that threw some workers from the stage outskirts into action as they came up and approached the item that was just sold: A live mermaid princess. The woman had some kind of muzzle of sorts, preventing her from using her voice at all. She was just left there, swimming in that small tank like some ornamental piece…which was honestly what the buyer likely would turn her into. Put her in some aquarium in some wealthy criminal establishment. Within moments, the tank was wheeled off the stage to be prepared for Mr. Kaine.
Welcome to cueva de víboras, a private event for buyers of the heinous sort. Mobster bosses, assassin guilds, human traffickers…you name the immoral poison and chances are those who govern over those dark vices within Spain have found attendance at this particular gathering. The event is held in a mysterious auditorium, given access to those through a bizarre arcane means. A customer will be visited by a representative of the auction and be asked to offer a sample of their blood…then…on the day of the auction a sigil will appear on the back of the hand of those whose blood was offered and they will be able to channel their arcana into that marking to open a one time portal to the lobby of the auction. Fairly simple and effective in keeping unwanted guests from the event. However, in this case, the design of the entry was not entirely foolproof-at least not this time. In a world of criminals it was not unheard of to ‘off’ someone to seize their mark and gain access. Of course, those kinds of people were also unpredictable as well as a liability to those that ran the organization. Thus, the staffing of the event was lined with expert soldiers with firearms capable of piercing the thickest armor…which wouldn’t be too difficult to manage if you were magically gifted, however the actual event had an anti-magic field as well; It kept those pulling the strings at the Cueva de víboras safe…still, despite all those measures…the denizens of the underworld were still uncomfortable with the new attendee that walked through the portal instead of Gastino Escobar with a sheathed blade on his hip and the Notorious arms dealer’s severed hand with the sigil still glowing with magic.
Zenith was not known widely as a criminal, however rumors spread like wildfire in the underground…and thus it was not unknown that a man of Zenith’s description was wanted by the BoM. Some may even be able to connect him to the string of assassinations under the alias of Blood Echo since he had adopted that profession here in Spain. That being said, however, they were still wary of the new guest.
“And our next item! A painting of old forgotten times-even our specialists can’t discern when it was made, but it has a certain…craft and aura to it. A one of a king item!” The announcer began creating this grand exposition as a massive portrait was wheeled out. A collage of deep colors surrounded an outline of a keyhole. Zenith’s gaze narrowed. “Our starting bid for this will go for 300,000!” “800,000!” roared a heavy man in the back, surrounded by an entourage of guards in suits and black glasses. Norman Grey…connoisseur of art. The man gave a crooked grin as he puffed a deep gust of smoke from his cigar.
Location: Cueva de Víboras With:The Bidders Mood:Calm Condition:Good Current Outfit:[Outfit]
Édouard had come to Barcelona on official company business. The construction company was looking to throw it’s hat in the arena for a nice city contract that would be good for five years. The city was expanding and there would be a good chunk of money for the companies that got in on said expansion. He’d flown from South America where the company’s other big government contract was. He hadn’t been doing any of the building work; he was dealing with negotiations with a contractor on site. It’d been a couple of years since he’d actually done any construction work himself. But now that his meeting was done and his company had all but clinched a contract with the city of Barcelona, Édouard had other matters to attend to.
He wouldn’t have come to Spain just for this deal. They had other perfectly capable suits that could have done the job just as well, maybe even better. But here in the city was something he wanted. He’d learned about the secret auction from a sleazy bureaucrat in Brazil. The man made him an offer: go to the auction for him and get the item he wanted. Édouard wasn’t interested until the man pulled up the secured site that showed the inventory being auctioned. Some of it was so foul that had his constitution not been hardened by his past, he’d have fallen ill. Some of the darkest sludge at the bottom of humanity would be attending to bid over every illegal and illicit item you could possibly imagine. He showed him the item that he’d wanted and as he was casually flipping through images, Édouard stopped him. A portrait with an odd feature: a keyhole. The politician saw his interest and knew his company was going to be sending representatives there for that contract. He offered to pay for the flight if Édouard made sure he was on it.
That was a couple of weeks ago. Now he was sitting next to a couple of other members of his company whom he had listed as “body guards” though they were really there just so he wouldn’t stand out showing up through the portal alone. They were incredibly uncomfortable being there and had not at all been prepared for what they were going to. When the item the man in Brazil wanted, Édouard had gotten the man on his right to hold up their marker and make a bid. There was a short back and forth between and older balding man but eventually Édouard managed to outbid him. That was that. Now all they needed to do was wait for the object he was looking for and nab that up too. After several pieces or art and a couple of people were auctioned off, the mermaid princess was wheeled out. The man to his right whispered some complaint about what was going on but he didn’t pay any attention. Someone had gotten the fish woman and what happened to her after that wasn’t his concern.
Finally, the portrait was brought to the floor. He could feel his anticipation rise upon seeing it with his own eyes. Oh indeed, it had a certain craft and aura and he was all too familiar with it. Apart from the obvious keyhole the piece itself was very gorgeous but artistry wasn’t his forte. The opening offer was made and almost immediately someone put in a bid. He nudged the man to his right with his elbow and muttered “850.” The man stuttered a little and then held up his placard and blurted out “850!” as instructed. The auctioneer seemed pleased that Édouard was bidding again. “Alright then, we have 850,000!” He shouted looking back toward the first bidder immediately. The man was still smiling. He wasn’t afraid of some upstart with sunglasses. He had very deep pockets. “900,000!” Came the surly voice of Mr. Grey. They were going to tit-for-tat at first it seemed. But who would be the first to make the really interesting bid? The crowd waited as the man next to Édouard leaned in to hear the next amount. “975!” He shouted. Édouard was going to see where this went. “1 million!”came another voice.
All eyes turned to the new bidder. He was a Middle Eastern man with a thick beard that seemed to make his face a bit too narrow for the rest of his body. Édouard elbowed the man at his side “1.5 million!” He responded before Norman Grey could put a bid in. Grey upped it to 1.9 million, just shy of a full 2. The Middle Eastern man set his bid at 2 million hoping that Grey hedging to go that high was a sign he wasn’t willing to pay that much. “2.5 million.” Grey shot back. Édouard looked over and by body language he figured the Middle Easterner wasn’t going to go beyond 2.5 million. He leaned over and told his man to go to 3 million. The man whispered the amount back, concerned about the price. Édouard simply smiled and told him it wasn’t coming out of the company’s coffers. The man placed the bid at 3 million. Édouard glanced over across the crowd at Norman Grey who was no longer smiling. His cigar sat smoldering between his lips and he glared at the young man. Clearly he hadn’t really counted on anyone trying to outbid him because he was the big name when it came to buying black market arts. The Middle Easterner shook his head and muttered to his small entourage. It was back to him and Mr. Grey. It was now left to be seen which one of them would fold first or if someone else wanted to throw some money around for the painting.
Zen’s hazel eyes subtly blinked to the new contender who showed interest in the painting. A group of suits, ones that he hadn’t recognized. He had done his homework on the influential criminal figureheads in Barcelona, but he couldn’t quite figure out whether these people were associated with or if they were entirely new to the seedy dealings of the cueva de víboras. There was someone, however, that grazed the surface of some distant memories. “900,000!” Mr Grey barked confidently…of course Zen wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in him any longer. While still discreetly observing the man that seemed to be calling the shots in the retinue of…rather uncomfortable gentlemen as the bidding reached 975 thousand. These recollections that came and ebbed away as incomplete foggy scenes during the few times he had visited Rengoku Academy…but the whispers of doubt still poisoned the possibility that the second man after the painting was indeed who he had thought it was.
“1 million.” Zenith’s cold eyes blinked away from the new group of people as he heard a voice of someone he had known to frequent these events. Again, no one that Zenith felt threatened by to say the least. The bids shot between the three of them quickly then, each of them examining the other in hopes to seize the painting as their own. The Middle Eastern man was the first to drop out of the auction…which made the auctioneer’s grin curl wickedly, sadistically enjoying the frustration that flashed across the bearded man’s features. As far as he was concerned, this product had exceeded their forecasted buy out price. 1.5…2…2.5…3 million!
The retired assassin cast a glance at Nolan Grey, whose face had twisted into a displeased frown. Grey pulled the cigar from his lips, his thick fingers guiding the smoldering stick over the ashtray. With a practiced tap, he dislodged the spent ashes, revealing a fresh end that flared with a vibrant orange glow as the oxygen met the unburned tobacco. While doing this he leaned over to one of his men…whispering something to them before they nodded and stood himself up from his seat and began walking from his seat to the nearest aisle. From there the man walked up towards the furthest point away from the stage, meeting one of the staff members of the auction before catching them in conversation. The staff member grinned, making a jest it seemed…one that the guard didn’t find funny in the slightest. Noticing this, the smaller, rat-like man frowned and peered over to Édouard’s group before continuing the unheard conversation. “4 million…” This time the heavy set man’s tone had changed, becoming laced with irritability as he raised his paddle. Zen’s eyes drifted to the back and he raised his hand slightly, gesturing for one of the server women to come over as Mr. Grey shot a threatening look over at the new group of suits that he clearly didn’t know of. The Swordsman shared some words with the women, handing her a note. She smiled back at him, enjoying the respect and sophisticated etiquette he gave her-something that she didn’t often receive when working these events. The woman nodded, took the note, and left to the back of the room where the rat-like man snatched her hand and hissed something at her. While Zen couldn’t hear them, she nodded rapidly and scuttled behind the doors before walking out seconds later with a drink.
She walked over to Édouard’s and those he dragged into this underground auction. “From Mr. Grey, who wishes you to cease your attempts and is willing to reward you if you do…” her voice was a little shaky, revealing the nature of the words the rat-like man in the back hissed at her not long ago. But then…she handed Ed a note. “And this is from the man sitting by himself…” After that, she left. The drink, predictably, had been poisoned…but the folded note actually had words that were far more ominous than whatever they could have slipped in that bubbling chardonnay: Tell your people to duck in 5 seconds.
Zen’s gaze slowly drifted over to Ed’s clique, ensuring that he read the note before waiting 5 seconds. 5…4…3…2…1. The Sword saint procured a small device from a jacket pocket, with a singular button. And then…he pressed it. There was a very light buzzing sound, with a frequency barely audible to humans before all the lights suddenly went down. “What’s going on!?” The auctioneer barked out. The sounds of the peripheral guards raising their arms filled the edges of the area with the metallic clanking before suddenly there was the sharp ring of a drawn blade that became the prelude to a ghastly squelch of severed flesh. The guards were equipped with visors that could pierce through the darkness that cast itself upon the area, so they were able to catch the lone man draw a blade…and cut one of their men clean in half. The cursed blade caused the two halves to erupt with vermillion ichor as if this whole setting was an old samurai flick. Suddenly the place was illuminated by the flashes of firearms as Zenith teleported back and forth between all sides of the auction, carving fatal slashes into the peripheral soldiers that painted the walls, saturated the sofa-like chairs, and made the ground splotchy with viscous incarnadine liquid that made the entire room smell of iron.
At some point during the unfolded chaos, more soldiers had poured from the backs of the auctioneer stage and some from the back of the house. Beyond terrified, the auctioneer scrambled down to his knees behind his podium and snapped his fingers…causing a brilliant and dazzling blue portal to appear before him. Quickly, he scuttled on the floor to reach it…his only hope for escape…”gotta get outta he-GWAH!” a high pitched grunt of unbridled agony sputtered out of him as Zenith’s blade found itself sheathed through his back and into the floor underneath him…the blade directed up towards the man’s head. Then, before the soldiers on the stage could pepper him with bullets, the Sword saint swiped up with his blade, splitting the man’s upper body from the navel up into two halves that sprayed the stage with his life essence. Now there was no means for anyone to escape unless they had a portal ability. This was indeed true carnage.
Aella’s footsteps were light and measured as she moved between the tables, balancing a silver tray of drinks. She wore the uniform required of the catering staff: a black, sleek dress that fit snugly against her body, every movement accentuating the curve of her waist. The fabric was soft but clung to her skin, and the cut made it difficult to move quickly. Her heels, practically platforms, added inches to her height. Thankfully, Aella was used to wearing heels, her balance naturally steady despite the chaos around her. The soles clacked softly against the polished floor as she moved, the sound barely audible over the low murmur of the crowd and the auctioneer's booming voice. Understanding what the clients wanted was particularly difficult. Aella didn't speak a lick of Spanish other than the basic, hello, thank you, and where's the bathroom which is likely why she got this gig in the first place. Seeing what was happening here though, she couldn't help but but wonder who all these people were while keeping up the forced politeness that was expected of her. She cast furtive glances around the room, taking in the opulent but suffocating atmosphere of the auction.
She had been in places like this before, but never one this high-stakes, this dangerous. The air was thick with tension, even as bidders barked out increasingly outrageous numbers. But what truly bothered her was a feeling—a gnawing sense of dread that had been growing since the moment she walked in. At first she thought it was seeing that mermaid in a tank, a girl who reminded her of Akyrie though the only thing the two girls shared in common was a tail.
Then it happened. The lights went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. For a second, there was only silence. Aella froze where she stood, her tray clutched tightly in her hands. A high-pitched ringing, barely perceptible, echoed in the room. The first sound of gunfire shattered the stillness, followed by the unmistakable sound of steel meeting flesh. Screams erupted around her, and Aella’s instincts kicked in before her mind could catch up. She was the first to drop her tray and dive for cover, sliding behind the nearest bar in one fluid motion. Her heart pounded in her throat, her pulse a deafening roar in the sudden darkness.
Sharp cracks of firearms tore through the chaos, each shot making her flinch as the gruesome sounds of bodies hitting the floor filled the air. She pressed herself against the cool metal of the bar, her breaths quick and shallow. Other girls followed her lead, scrambling after her in blind panic. One nearly stumbled over Aella as she clumsily crouched down beside her, her trembling hands gripping the edge of the bar for dear life. Aella’s thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the sudden violence. What the hell is happening?
Beside her, she could hear the other girls’ ragged breathing, some of them sobbing quietly, trying to stifle their fear. They had no idea where to run. The layout of the room, now cloaked in darkness, became a maze. There was no clear exit, and no way to tell where the fighting was coming from. Sporadic flashes of gunfire briefly illuminated the horror of the scene—blood splattered across the walls, the bodies of guards and criminals alike torn apart by something in the darkness. Instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to do something—anything—but it was too dark to do anything.
Then a voice—a whisper, close by. One of the girls nudged her. "Que hacemos?" she whimpered, eyes wide in the pitch black.
Aella shook her head, not knowing what she was asking but still understanding all the same. “Shh...” Aella put a finger to her lips, hoping the other girl could see enough of her silhouette to understand.
Another flash lit up the room, this one blindingly close. Aella saw it then—a girl, one of the servers, standing frozen a few feet away. Her eyes were wide, body stiff, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Get down!” Aella hissed, her voice barely audible over the chaos. She moved instinctively, pushing herself up from the floor, her hand reaching out toward the girl. But it was too late. The gunfire came in a thunderous roar, tearing through the air toward them. Aella’s heart seized as she felt the sharp, burning pain just above her hip. The force of the bullet sent her stumbling back, her hand flying to the wound and second later, the girl was struck—several bullets hitting her chest and abdomen. The girl crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud, her body motionless, eyes still open in a frozen expression of shock.
Aella collapsed back down behind the bar, the cold floor pressing against her knees as she fell, her breath shallow and ragged. The sharp, metallic scent of blood mixed with the musty aroma of spilled alcohol from shattered bottles around her. Her hands, slick and warm with her own blood, fumbled as she pressed them against the searing wound just above her hip. Each breath sent a stabbing pain through her side, and she bit her lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of her own blood as she fought the rising tide of panic.
The fabric of her dress was soaked, clinging to her skin with sticky warmth as the sounds of slaughter grew louder. The pounding of her own heart beat in her ears like a pair of wings drowning out the muffled screams of those around her and the relentless ring of metal cutting through flesh. Aella clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus. Stay alive. Just stay alive.
Where: behind the bar With: innocent bystanders Doing: hiding Wearing:
Do not fall in love with people like me. I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.
Location: Cueva de Víboras With:The Bidders Mood:Calm Condition:Good Current Outfit:[Outfit]
Édouard had noticed Nolan Grey’s little whisper session but chose not to focus on it. Once the man had given instructions to his patsy it was back to the bidding. Mr. Grey skipped the foreplay and was apparently attempting to brute force his way to victory. He assumed Grey had him pegged for some lower-end “wealthy” yuppie who had maybe a few million to play around with before daddy would get mad at him. So as the unfortunate drink was being prepared and things were beginning to pick up some real steam, Édouard contemplated if he wanted to keep needling the man or show he meant business.
It was then the young lady with the drink appeared. She hand it to him and he took it and looked it over. He listened to her and immediately could tell she was afraid. Unfortunately for her, she’d become caught in the back and forth between these two men and was now a temporary pawn in Nolan Grey’s back up plan. He gently twirled the glass in his hands, catching the intense stare of his auction house opponent. Was he just waiting to see if the young blonde gentleman would fold or was he watching for something else? He naturally assumed it was poisoned. But he finished sloshing the fluid around in its crystal chalice and moved it to his lips, catching the eager anticipation across the way out of the corner of his eye. He then set the glass down and raised his man’s arm with the paddle. “Five million.” He said before giving Nolan a smarmy smirk. The older man’s face managed to frown even harder than he’d been just a few moments prior.
As he was quietly enjoying Mr. Grey’s anger, the other man made mention that there was something else. He whispered the note’s contents and for a second, Édouard gave it thought but then it all clicked and he grabbed his associate’s by the back of their suit collars and pushed them both forward with a force they were not prepared for. As they were wrenched over, he took one last look to spot the man sitting alone but as a couple of bidders nearby watched in confusion the time was up and the lights went out. The sound the ushered in the gloom had caused him to feel that old unease. The tension of danger that he’d not felt in a good while. The guttural final gasp of the first man to be cut down was unmistakable to him and soon the room erupted into gunfire. The panicked screams of the other bidders was almost as loud as the shooting in the auction hall.
Many people were hit by stray rounds still seated and utterly unaware of just what was going on around them. Others were felled as they attempted to flee. The smell of steel, cordite, and gore mixed with the other odors that had already permeated the room to create the unmistakably pungent stink of fear and death. Since he’d left school it had become a smell he was more than familiar with. But as he could feel the static like tingle of this hidden assassin popping up around the room—moving from victim to victim Édouard knew he’d never have a better chance than this. He told his two companions to stay huddled near the floor where they’d be safer. He then quickly hopped over the back of their seat and crouched taking a few seconds to gather what he could from his surroundings. He carefully slid his sunglasses (now a detriment) into his breast pocket. Since it was darkness everywhere and the security would be busy he figured now would be a great time to snag himself a painting. Édouard was preparing to make his way toward the stage when a blue light erupted from the area. The auctioneer had opened a portal hoping to escape.
He watched as a shape moved in from the shadows—literally out of nowhere and took a sword to the man as he crawled like a grub toward safety. This light had illuminated other things as well, namely that there were men on the stage blindly firing in the general direction of where the killer had been. They hit nothing of value though the now bisected auctioneer’s body twitched and jiggled as they inadvertently sprayed him down with lead post-mortem. But the portal was still open and he knew he didn’t have time to think about how to respond. He needed to act and act now.
“Close your eyes and do as I say!” He hissed at his shell-shocked compatriots. Not waiting for them to reply he jumped back onto their side of the couch and grabbed them both. Neither man understood what happened. From their position they were grabbed, there was a gust of wind and a horrid lurching sensation, and suddenly they were landing hard on the stage. Édouard had always taken care to keep his more unnatural abilities hidden away and out of sight. But this was no time for his usual covertness. He’d have to run the risk and fly them across the vast space between their seat and the stage and pray they weren’t blasted out of the sky like some wayward geese. Thankfully almost no one was shooting toward the ceiling. That didn’t mean there weren’t a few unmistakable pops and zings to greet them on their journey.The trio’s arrival on stage surprised the few guards near them but that portal would soon be closed and so he essentially threw the first man through it to God only knew where and then grabbed the painting and told the second man he’d make contact when he was clear. With that, he shoved the painting into the man’s bewildered hands and shoved him through the portal only moments before it closed and the room was plunged back into the darkness.
One of the soldiers turned to open fire on him, and he hopped back before taking to the air. The man stepped forward swinging his weapon upwards and promptly slipped on the slick pool of blood that had formed around the dead man. He let out a burst that didn’t come near to hitting him but he knew the longer he was up and exposed the better the odds were one of them would tag him by sheer chance and he had no intentions of getting off’d by a careless bullet.
He was coming down near the bar now and he could see one of the guard by means of his now clearly panicked firing. This man never likely expected to be taken out by an attack from above and behind but Édouard essentially landed on him, taking him to the floor and causing his rifle to slide away from his grasp in front of him. The man was unconscious—if he was lucky it would be enough to save his life. Instinctually, he lunged forward and grabbed the rifle as another man turned. Amidst the now increasingly sporadic and infrequent flashing, he never bothered to see if it was a guard, employee, or bidder. He let out a quick burst of fire and there was an almost imperceptible thud as the form collapsed onto the floor.
With that he leapt to his side and he landed on the bar top with the unmistakable accompaniment of breaking glass and falling bottles. The noise attracted a hail of gunfire that tore into the wall and bar itself. Thankfully he’d taken cover behind it just as the first bits of hot metal tore through the air. It was close enough that he could fell them passing over the top of his head but he was still showered in splinters and shards of debris. He’d managed to get his painting but now what? This wasn’t a place where you could just walk out the front door. He glanced to his right and became aware that he was not alone. He couldn’t really see much of the people hiding behind the bar but he could hear them and make out vague dark lumps of something. It dawned on him that this man who had sat alone might just be here to kill everyone. The note a warning to indicate he hadn’t been on the intended list of the soon-to-be dead. But in this confusion would he now be spared? Would this killer even know it was him in the gloom of the hall? Édouard could fight certainly but the speed with which the assassin was taking out guards all over the place hinted at teleportation. That was a tricky thing to deal with even without the lack of light. There was a few seconds of pause between the random gunfire. Whoever this person was, they’d made very short work of the place’s security. He leaned forward and brought himself onto the balls of his feet and slowly moved his way past a couple of quivering souls curled up against the bar. Even over all the other things now filling the air, he could still faintly make out the scent of perfume. He assumed these were some of the servers and weren’t likely to be a threat. He worked to just about what he could gather was the middle of the group and lowly muttered “Is anyone injured?”
Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2024 8:33 pm
﹄O, Death...Become my blade once more﹃
“Dijo que les dijera a todos que se quedaran atrás. ¿Qué significa eso? Podríamos tener un hombre muerto aquí, qué pena ... era lindo.”
As Aella returned she would find two of the other girls giggling over something, these two floated between the aisles of killers, slave traders, and arms dealers with unwavering grace-It most certainly wasn’t the first time they were called upon. There were other beautiful servers, however, who were just as alien to these seedy dealings as Aella was. They stomached the abominable biddings as much as possible, scared that the smallest disapproval or disgust would get them killed-or worse. Perhaps they could do this one job and make it back home where they could pretend it never happened…perhaps they could compartmentalize these memories deep within the untouched recesses of their mind long enough for them to simply…forget. That was a pipe dream, however…and that became completely apparent when the carnage began.
With each passing second, the space between the gunfire-once completely indistinguishable-became longer and longer as the soldiers were rapidly felled by Zen’s blade. He became the artist of slaughter…the sharpened edge of his katana was the brush that painted the walls with a deeper vermillion with each stroke. It didn’t take long for fear to sink into the very marrow of the soldiers; Some even abandoned their assignment to keep the auction staff safe, discarding their weapons and fleeing as their priorities shifted to their own survival. However, they became easy targets with their backs turned-the scent of their cowardice a beacon that drew the jaws of death straight to them. “GLUH!” One man gurgled as their head became a sheath for the cursed blade, the cold steel breaching through the front of their brow. In the small moment where the blade remained, the soldier’s eyes began to drift in different directions. Following that brief pause, a dark black aura began to bleed from the blade…and then a small blast burst from metal…a concussive force just strong enough to blow the gunman’s head from his shoulders in smaller fragments of skull and brain matter…the limp body hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
This slaughter continued like this for the next couple of seconds…however Mr Grey had ducked for cover quite quickly as the tone of the auction became dangerous, using his men as meat shields to protect him during the confusion…however he soon began to realize that the anti-magic fields were no longer functional. His thick digits curled into fists and unfurled over and over as he felt his mana begin to radiate within. A dark grin crossed his features as he pushed a guard off him, laughing deeply from his abdomen as the body collided into a chair and splintered it on the way down to the saturated floors. Several bullets were shot in his direction as the sound drew the attention of some of the remaining hired guns…but they simply…passed through his body. His form seemed to maintain some kind of gaseous quality that allowed the hot lead to pass through him without harming him in the slightest.
The man’s chin pinched against his folded neck with each laugh as he thrived on the futility of the guards' attempts to rob him of his life. He could return the murderous intent with a fatal rebuke…but that would be a waste of time. They were nothing but white noise. What he wanted was the painting. Amidst the incremental flashes of gunfire…he could see it…and he could see that slimy man who was trying to outbid him. No, they weren’t going to get away. All he had to do…his hand lifted towards the stage…was rip the air right out of their lun-...suddenly…the stage seemed to tilt…in fact…everything in front of him was rotating 90 degrees…actually, what was happening? He couldn’t feel his body beneath him anymore.
Thud, Mr. Grey’s head hit the floor and rolled on the floor…a look of surprise permanently branded on his features as his thick torso followed soon after. Zenith robbed the man’s ability to manifest his gaseous body, temporarily erasing the mana flow long enough to decapitate the man. Of course, he had also noticed Ed’s cohort flee with the painting through the portal. That presented several complications that he would have to address after he was done here.
It took another ten seconds to clean up the rest of the remaining criminals…a stale silence only carved into existence by death creating a heavy atmosphere in the auction house. Standing over the least deceased, Zenith took a deep breath in…and sighed as he warped once more. Two seconds later, the lights came on…and Zenith could be seen by anyone peeking over the bar with a gutted piece of machinery. Sparks spurted from one of the wires, like a beating heart would with crimson ichor, before he tossed the lump of metal to the side. Cold, unfeeling hazel eyes surveyed the gore from the elevated stage…the metallic scent thick in the air. Now…where had that man gone? Distantly, the first point of possible refuge was the bar, followed by the back rooms where the cooking staff were likely hidden. To be safe, he had teleported into the kitchen area and killed 3 soldiers there as well and spared the cooking staff…but more people could have evacuated there. Before he checked there, however, he would ensure that the bar was scouted first.
Instantaneously, Zen warped behind the bar, several women gasping and shrieking before they scuttled to the opposite end as the Sword saint assassin. He had been expecting some people there, but what he hadn’t expected was a familiar white haired girl. “Aella? What are you doing here, a-are you hur-...” Seeing his ex here was certainly not ideal, even worse was the fact that she had been hit. His eyes were locked on her injury, the squelchy black fabric made darker by her own blood and now glued to her flesh with that excess heavy moisture…but what robbed his attention from even that…was the deceased woman riddled with bullet wounds. Zen’s mouth went dry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The woman was supposed to corral everyone to safety. He was supposed to be faster…and strong enough to prevent casualty. He couldn’t tear his sights from her frozen visage…staring off to the ceiling without any light behind her still glistening irises. Even Ed’s presence was peripheral then as seconds passed like this.
Zen took a step forward, followed by most of the girls scooting further back against the opposite side of the bar. One even snatched a corkscrew from one of the small landings behind the bar in case she had to defend herself. What others couldn’t notice, however, was the discord behind the assailants eyes…and the sound of rattling chains. Zen’s eyes flashed to the side… a clean towel beside him. That distant look steadily began to become more acutely aware, clarity washing back into his eyes as he grabbed for it and moved closer…not to the other women and Aella…but to the deceased one. Without a thought he shoved the towel towards Ed…whom he didn’t even care to interrogate this instant. “Please, Put pressure on Aella’s wound to see if it went through.” he asked before he knelt over the girl’s body. he hadn't even confirmed if the man was really Ed, his thoughts too clouded by having this girls death on his hands. He...he didn't want to be responsible for it.
“Mantente alejada de nosotras!”
The words stung… as his hand shakily hovered over the girl’s body. He had taken too many innocent lives before, he should have been more careful…more cautious. While he could easily succeed in the mission…he just…didn’t account for the collaterals. This was his mistake. “¡No la toques demonio!” The girl holding the corkscrew leapt at the swordsman, blade sheathed away and perceived too vulnerable to defend himself from her attack. While she was wrong…Zen didn’t stop her…and the corkscrew sank into his shoulder with a thump as it stopped at the girl fist. There was a flinch of pain in his features…but soon a green…insidious aura began to radiate from his hand…and the bullets…were pushed from the body…the wounds closing. The server who had struck him was frozen by his lack of response, but then pulled the pointed tool from his flesh and planted it into his neck and shoulder several more times…only stopping when the dead girl suddenly gasped as if her life was suddenly thrust into her. Perhaps Aella could catch it…the faint glow of green peeking into the hazel pearls of his eyes before is lithered away.
Out of the still air, a crackle of electricity split the silence, and in an instant, streaks of lightning began to spread across the ceiling like veins of light crawling through darkness. The bolts flickered into existence from nothing, spidering outward in jagged, violent patterns, illuminating the room in bursts of white-blue light. Each flash sizzled with raw energy, creating a low, ominous hum that vibrated in the air. It felt alive and unpredictable. Beneath them, the ground began to tremble, subtle at first—barely perceptible. A low, ominous rumble built from the depths of the earth, vibrating through the floor and into the walls, rattling windows and sending a faint shudder through the structure. The mild quake grew in intensity, making the room shiver as though the building itself had come to life. Loose objects began to jitter and clink together and the bar where Aella crouched began to vibrate beneath her fingertips, the tremors pulsing through the wood. Glasses and bottles perched along the shelves above rattled against each other, the sharp tinks growing louder with each jolt. Several bottles tipped over, their contents spilling onto the counter, pooling and dripping down the sides to join the broken shards littering the floor around her. Dust fell in thin, whispering streams from the ceiling as the building creaked, settling over the blood-slick surface of the bar like a fine veil. Aella pressed her hand harder against her wound, feeling the deep vibrations run through her, amplifying the burning pain in her side. Her breath hitched, trying to remain silent while the ground beneath her refused to stay still, the constant rumbling making her feel trapped. The women around them shrieked, clutching each other as they huddled close, frightened for what would come next but Aella's mind felt too hazy to fear the milk quaking. It would stop eventually, hopefully before the building came down on them.
A voice cut through frantic whisper of girls and the gunfire echoing and stopping sporadically. She froze, still pressing a hand to the wound above her hip. The sharp, searing pain radiating from the gash made her stomach churn and her vision blur at the edges- or so she thought. It was hard to tell when you couldn't see anything but a flash here and there. It burned like hell, a fiery sting that only deepened with every movement. She bit down hard to stifle a gasp, focusing on breathing—short, shallow breaths to keep the pain from overwhelming her. Focus Aella. The voice. It wasn’t panicked like the others but she couldn’t tell if he was a guard, a bidder, or worse—a killer.
Then again, whoever was killing people in the room was still at work. She couldn’t see much in the flickering darkness, but she didn’t need to. The screams and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the floor told her as much. So she should respond, hoping whoever it was would help her. It was either that or stay silent and continue hiding in the shadows like a cornered animal.
She clenched her jaw, taking another shallow breath. "I'm hit." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady herself, but when she opened them again, a flash of light caught her off guard. It illuminated the figure crouched down with the other women—a quick glimpse, too fast to grasp clearly—but there was something familiar about it. Blonde hair. Confident. Stoic, like someone she should know, but that couldn’t be right. Was the pain was playing tricks on her, making her see faces from the past in the midst of all this death?
Another flash. A little closer this time, and the pale gold of the hair glowed briefly under the harsh, unnatural light. The storm above cracked again, lightning dancing viciously across the ceiling, and with it came something new—a soft, wet patter. At first, Aella thought it was dust or debris, but then, unmistakably, cold droplets hit her skin. Rain. Except this wasn't coming from the sky outside. The ceiling was still swirling with electricity, and now, water began to drip, slow at first, then more insistent, leaking from the unnatural storm above. The cold water soaked through her snowy locks, mixing with the blood and grime that dirtied it's color.
She blinked, droplets falling from her lashes, and another flash of light tore through the darkness. This time, the figure moved closer, and when the next burst of lightning hit, Aella could see the face clearly.
It was Éd.
Her heart nearly stopped, not from the quake or the storm, but from sheer disbelief. She hadn’t seen him in years—not since high school. Back then, they had always orbited each other, never quite crossing paths deeply enough to mean something. Yet, here he was, drenched by the same freak storm, his eyes as sharp and intense as ever. "Ed??" She whispered, the sound likely lost in the carnage.
Suddenly, the room came into full view—bodies strewn across the floor, chaos in every corner—but her eyes stayed locked on the boy who had disappeared in highschool. "It's me." She muttered hazily, the pain clear on her face. Nothing had changed for Aella except her hair color, the dark black locks now a pearly white. Normally, her hair shimmered under the lights above like moonlight, but now it was plastered to her head and stained. Then, Zen appeared out of no where, drenched in blood. Was he killing again? Her brows furrowed, staring at him as if he'd just told her he had a third n****e that was all the colors of the rainbow.
Getting Aella to comply would be a bit difficult for Ed if he went around it too gently. Perhaps she was in a state of shock, but her hands seemed to be clamped over her wound and she didn't seem to be willing to move them in order to allow Ed to assist her. He would have to gently pry her palms off the tender spot in order to press down with the cloth, which would cause a cry to jump from her lips. Why wasn't Zen trying to help her himself though? He almost seemed to not care, to act as if the fact that she'd gotten shot was a nuisance to him. Aella stared after him as he went to the dead woman and while she didn't know exactly what he was doing, but she had glimpsed the enemy that slumbered within once before. "No!" She cried, lurching forward against the pressure of Ed tamping down the flow of blood. Immediately she had regrets and curled up against his arm, her forehead thunking into his shoulder. Slender fingers curls into his sleeves, tightening, her jaw clenched tight. A low whine hummed in her chest- the sound of impulsive decisions. After several, slow, controlled breaths. "You can't... let him use that power." She whispered.
Where: behind the bar With: innocent bystanders Doing: hiding Wearing:
Do not fall in love with people like me. I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.
Posted: Sun Sep 29, 2024 6:58 pm
After all the chaos had died down and the sounds of battle had settled, there was a silence only broken by the hushed whimpers and sobbing of the cowering bystanders. The familiar yet displaced sound of a cell phone ringer, rung out in the room. At first, it simply rang and no one moved but after a moment of it continuing to ring, a man hiding behind one of the faux potted trees began to search inside his suit jacket for the sounding phone. He frantically patted himself down knowing it was giving away his position.
The man could be heard giving a panicked “Hello?” in the near total darkness. The screen’s light stood out from the corner of the room although the commotion between the combatants might have been enough to keep him from getting spotted. “I don’t understa-, I can’t…” the sound of the other person on the opposite end of the line sounded firmer all of a sudden, and the man said “ok” in a defeated and sorrowful manner. Slowly standing to his feet, he held up the phone and his other hand, hoping not to get cut down or shot. It was then that the lights came on and revealed the utter carnage spilled about the room. Shutting his eyes as hard as he could, the man willed himself to speak. “Is…is there a cursed swordsman here?” He asked. Whether the man was cursed or the sword was, it might be left up for interpretation. He peeked from one eye to see if anyone would respond. And if he could hear the footsteps of someone approaching, he would begin to tremble and hold out the phone in front of him as if it would shield him. “It’s for you.”
Location: Cueva de Víboras With:Aella, the servers, and Zen Mood:Calm Condition:Good Current Outfit:[Outfit]
Édouard only just managed to get himself planted when the darkness was disrupted by unusual flashing. One of the servers was trying to point to Aella but the discharges above them and the ever more noticeable rumble of the quaking ground beneath had caught his full attention for a moment while he tried to figure out if it was even safe to remain hidden there. The killing was coming to its bloody close now but that didn’t mean that the death was over. Finally, as the other women cowered under the electric display, a figure on the floor let out a cry. His cold gaze instantly dropped to the woman who had announced herself wounded.
He took one glance upwards again and then around at the various objects falling over from whatever force moving the floor. Crouched down, he made his way over to the figure. In the brief glimpses that the bolts of electricity offered, he saw what appeared to be a server clutching her lower abdomen. The most striking thing was the white hair that stood out even in the dark moments. It didn’t take much to guess where she’d been shot. He leaned the rifle he’d taken against the bar and moved in closer to see how bad she really was. He didn’t notice the first few droplets of water, or if he did, he shrugged them off as something from the bar. But it became hard to ignore very quickly. He glanced upwards again. A thunderstorm and earthquake happening at the same time as whatever this huge hit was had not been on his list of potential outcomes for the day. He shook that off and was beginning to reach into remove her hand from over the wound so he could actually get a look at it when much like the lightning above him, something flashed in his mind. The smell of ozone and shaking mixed with the overwhelming scent of fear. It brought his mind back to a moment when he was in school. Not the school he’d left but the one he’d transferred from. Despite her whispers he hadn’t heard what she said, unaware who was lying next to him or that she’d recognized him before he’d recognized her.
Just then the lights came back on and he finally saw the face looking up at him from the floor. The surprise of a familiar face was clear on his features but it was swiftly replaced with his tried and true stony expression. Well, this was certainly a turn of events wasn’t it? Now with the space exposed by the light it was clear that he appeared mostly unchanged. A little older, his hair a little longer but he was still the same Édouard even if his face was now marred. A scar gashed up from the space in between his eyebrows diagonally. It wasn’t very long but it was very noticeable (though he’d heard he ‘wore it well’ whatever that meant.) Of course the natural set of questions had begun to queue up in his mind. What was Aella doing here? Why had she gotten herself shot—or maybe more accurately: why was she in some sort of trouble again?Yet, even this thought wasn’t allowed to fully mature as a new sensation demanded all his focus. He’d felt the prickling up and down his spine and there was a change in the air that almost no one would notice and wasn’t the result of the mini-typhoon raging on the ceiling. He turned as the culprit of this mess appeared out of thin air at the other end of the bar.
His arrival had sent the other girls scurrying away from him and with good reason. It was very obvious that this was the killer. His eyes narrowed. It was definitely the man who’d sent him the note but more importantly for him, this man wore a face that Édouard recognized. The assassin’s words only confirmed that he had indeed properly id’d these two people from his past. However Zen’s attention quickly left them from one of the bodies. While he stared at the dead woman, Édouard returned his attention to the as yet living Aella. He moved with sharp and precise motions. He grabbed her bloody hand away from the sight of her wound and then gripped onto the fabric of her dress, ripping from the entry hole so he could actually see the flesh below without having to hike the whole thing up from her hips. The blood made it difficult to see the features of the shot but it wasn’t a circular hole. The damage was slightly elongated and his mind immediately turned to a ricochet.
Without any warning whatsoever, he moved his one hand to her shoulder and rolled her on her side. This would be…unpleasant but he needed to see if there was an exit wound. The color of her attire didn’t help but the dress on her back was undamaged—no hole. He let her back down and looked up as the other man was still transfixed on the corpse. A second or two later, Zen was giving him a towel but it almost seemed like an afterthought and even his plea to look after Aella seemed distracted. He took a few extra moments to examine the killer before he put the towel over the gunshot wound and began to press down hard. “The bullet is still in there.” He said not directly to either of them. He looked back to see if Zen was even listening.
Part of him seemed to recall there had been something between these two back at school. But that didn’t seem to be playing much of a roll in their interactions now. He seemed much more interested in the dead girl, was that his new lover perhaps? It didn’t matter to him one way or another. Fate had decided that after these years he would have to come save Aella from trouble once again. Just then there was a commotion as one of the servers lunged for the distracted form of Zen. He wasn’t expecting any of the poor girls hiding back there to suddenly find the brass to attack someone like Zen with a corkscrew of all things and he didn’t really expect Zen to just take it. But why was he just taking it?
Édouard didn’t have the best view of what he was doing over there by the dead person. But he did manage to catch a glimpse of the green aura coming from the man’s hand. This was all he could really see of whatever it was Zen was doing but at roughly the same time a few things happened. There was a sharp inhale from the dead body, the woman attacking Zen stopped in her tracks, and suddenly Aella tried rising up off the floor on her own begging him to stop Zen from using the power that he was currently in the process of using to apparently raise the dead woman from said death.
“Lay back down!” He chastised Aella. He honestly wasn’t all that interested in Zen’s Lazarus act. The barrier over the auction house was gone so once he was sure that Aella was stable enough for someone to take her to get proper medical treatment, he was going to portal himself out of there. After all, he’d gotten the painting he’d wanted and all the dead people meant that there weren’t likely to be any loose ends to this affair. But what if not stopping Zen complicated his exit? This was supposed to be an entanglement-free bid on a painting and in no time at all he was feeling very much entangled. He let out a low growl and carefully moved Aella back down onto the floor. He grabbed one of the women gawking at the events just a few feet away from them and pulled her in. She jumped as he told her to take hold of the towel and keep pressing on Aella’s wound, hard. He made it very clear she wasn’t to ease the pressure she was applying for any reason. Once the confused and shell-shocked girl had frantically nodded enough for him, he rose to his feet and looked over at Zen. “Any suggestions?” He asked before glancing down at Aella. “I don’t even know what he’s doing other than some form necromancy.”
Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2024 7:58 pm
﹄O, Death...Become my blade once more﹃
The girl’s eyes were wide…confused…terrified. In a way Zenith could understand exactly where she was coming from, having been claimed by the cold claws of death more than once. And yet there was also a part of him that could never understand the emotions that lashed out behind the terror she wore on her features. He was being selfish-he knew that very well. He didn’t want to feel the weight of innocent blood on his shoulders anymore and because of that he had tapped into an insidious magic to drag her soul back into her body by force. Those hazel eyes of his looked upon the girl as her friend toppled over her body and wept tears of joy. She had nothing to be happy about if she knew the truth. The girl he had resurrected was now claimed by the Ocean…slave to it…and it would drag her into the depths of indescribable torment until her soul was carved into a mindless specter for the Ocean to drain necrotic energy from. And so, the guilt behind Zenith’s stare was clear as day. While he had granted her life, he had also condemned her to something worse than death just to spare him from the responsibility of being the reason why she had gotten shot. It was stupid…foolish even, and yet he couldn’t help himself.
“llevarla a un hospital.” The words came out in a low firm baritone as they departed from the swordsman’s lips. The woman crying over her friend glanced at him, barely acknowledging what he had said since her relieved sobs blocked out most of her auditory surroundings. And then…Zen reached out and touched her with a hand…and suddenly the two of them vanished…warped out of the pocket dimension and back to Barcelona. After he had removed those two from the picture, his eyes finally glanced over at Aella…just for a moment. What she said hadn’t just fallen on deaf ears. It was heard…and it hurt. Of all people, Aella knew very well where he was drawing power from and exactly what path he was humoring in doing so. His eyes met hers as one of the other girls took charge of stamping the towel on her wound. His eyes couldn’t hide the shame. Suddenly Ed stood himself up, and only then did Zenith’s visage devolve into something close to apathy before he looked at the man. Was it because Aella told him to stop him? The thought of her disapproval made his inside coil with discomfort, but honestly…it was better this way. She couldn’t understand him anyway…hadn’t for awhile now. After this she would just put her own walls up
Steadily, Zenith rose to his feet as well, facing Ed with a cold callous gaze. “It’s Ed…right? Your colleague took the painting I needed. It would be in your best interest to hand it over.” His eyes dropped back down to Aella, “don’t make it hard for me to find you.” After that, he made an attempt to step around him to help the wounded girl, but suddenly the sound of a man calling for a ‘cursed swordsman’ stopped him in his tracks. Immediately alert, his right hand opened…a small spark of spatial distortion blossoming in his palm just before a sheathed blade warped into his grasp…however the man looked…terrified. Zenith had been so absorbed with his guilt that he had completely missed this person…and the call he was taking. Sternly, Zenith called out to him. “Come here…across the bar…and slide the phone to me…” The man reluctantly approached, stepping over corpse after corpse to reach the bar before setting the phone on the bar top and sliding it toward where Zenith stood. All the while he was being scrutinized by the sword saint’s cold and unfeeling gaze. Slowly, Zen took the phone. “Who is this?”
~made by Ghost. Fu**ing cool right!?~
~“Is this your idea of laying low?” immediately answered a familiar voice.
Zen’s brows furrowed immediately. Shingin Maeda? How had he called into this pocket realm? The thought gave way to a far more pressing query, however: why was he calling. The swordsman’s dangerous hazel eyes met the man across the table once more, hints of concern on his features. “In a pocket realm with…” his gaze drifted back to Aella. ‘Exclusive criminal attendance’ wasn’t quite accurate now was it? “...With a staggering criminal majority…I would assume that this kind of culling would be an isolated event…is this man yours?” That was the issue at hand right now. If the Bureau had sent their operatives here, then he could have gone and slaughtered people who had no part in this event-people who had done nothing wrong.
~There was a pause. Zenith might have already recognized Shingen’s voice on the other side. ”This poor sob? No. He’s just another accessory to one of these criminals. Look, I know you’re working and the last thing I want to do is get in your way but if I’m going to be your Bureau guardian angel, I have to look out for you.” The man had since shrunk back, crouching pitifully on the ground. ”The company collected enough intel on your M.O. to make you on your alias. Now, I’d be a liar if I told you I didn’t like to draw a little blood once in a while but nothing leaves a signature like the wounds that blade of yours leaves behind. And unless you plan on crossing out everyone in there, there will be witnesses.” The was another pause and the faint clinking that resembled the sound of ice in a glass. ”I figured I’d let you know. I’ll have a cleaning crew in there to sterilize the place when you’re done there, just try not to grow your legend any bigger than it already is.”
Were the BoM tracking things like this in Barcelona? Well, it made sense, but perhaps knowing the truth of their operations tempted his thoughts away from the false image they had always promoted. Perhaps that is what made Shingen such an invaluable asset as a man on the inside…Still, the thought of having to go through Shingen in order to enact what he saw as proper judgment was mildly frustrating-no matter how good or thoughtful the gesture actually was. Zen sighed, before chiming in, "I'll be here for a little while longer then...thank you-I'll...do what I can to be more discreet from now on." he said in a low and unfeeling tone.
~"It does really help me out. Give me a call if you need anything. Oh and give princess a squeeze for me. Hasta luego." He said before he hung up. The call was end to end encrypted but the longer it ran the longer it gave prying ears more time to try and crack it to get in and listen.
The Sword saint didn’t even bother saying goodbye before the call ended. All he did was set the phone on the table before lifting his hand out in front of him, slightly beside the man. Next to the criminal representative, an ominous green portal tore through space, the destination it led to was a complete mystery. “Go,” Zenith told the man before turning back toward Aella and walking towards her, “I have no time to draw any more blood today…”
The man was confused at first…but then nodded manically before running through. Once the man left, the portal would close. Unfortunately for him, there was no salvation on the other side. The suited man would find himself in a gothic like town…with horrific and empty residences all around him. In the distance, there was a black tower…and a beam of ghastly energy shooting straight out from the top of the unholy spire and into the obscurity of the black clouds above it. Terror began to grip him as he tried to understand where he was…and at that moment he heard something whisper in his mind. He couldn’t quite understand it..but that voice was just the beginning. Soon the man would be plagued with nightmarish hallucinations…and his screams would draw the attention of the many wraith abominations in Ogotunam’s center city. Zen had condemned the man to death, not by his own blade…but to something much worse.
Zen sighed and dropped to a knee beside Aella, looking toward the woman Ed had told to hold pressure. “Puedo cuidar de ella ahora,” His voice a low and tired murmur as he reached out and touched the girl. Just like that…she was gone, sent to somewhere safe in Barcelona. If the young elementalist would let him, he would try and hold pressure on the towel before his free hand reached to his pocket…procuring a demonic stone that glowed in his hand. “I’m calling Levi…I’m certain he will heal you.” a heavy guilt began crushing his conscience. He had told the Devil that this was a task he could easily accomplish…and yet…he had told the man who took the painting that he was free to go AND Aella was injured. Even worse was the fact that he was using Galvesar’s abilities when the Devil told him to be wary of it. He would likely have something to say for each account…but Aella’s health was far more important that preserving his pride.
Aella's surroundings blurred in and out of focus, colors fading as her vision narrowed to Édouard, crouched beside her with a hard-set look that wavered between worry and determination. Every nerve in her body screamed from the wound, pain so vivid it threatened to pull her under, yet she clung to him like a lifeline, her fingers digging into the rough fabric of his sleeve. The surreal absurdity of his reappearance only added to the confusion, dredging up old memories she couldn’t afford to face just now.
Her breaths were shallow and rapid, each one punching through her chest with a shuddering pulse. She didn’t know if he was really there or if her mind was conjuring him in a desperate mirage. But his hands felt real, moving with a cold, precise touch as he inspected the injury, tearing the fabric aside to examine the wound more closely. Then, without a word, he flipped her over, and a blood-curdling shriek ripped from her throat, all but tearing her apart as her body protested the rough motion. “Oh, you ********!” she managed to choke out, her voice raw and strained, the pain blinding.
Ed wouldn't find out what unsightly insult he had coming his way since he decided to slow the bleeding with immense pressure. It had seemed fine when Aella had been doing it herself, maybe because she'd somewhat gotten used to it? However releasing the pressure and reapplying it was a goddamn nightmare and her vision filled momentarily with hundreds of black spots twinkling on and off as if her eyes had turned into a light bright that was starting to go dim.
Just as she thought she might pass out, a gasp escaped her lips, and her vision returned with the faintest clarity, enough to see Édouard pulling a girl over for some inexplicable- THIS a*****e applying fresh pressure, sending another mind-numbing jolt of pain surging through her. Every nerve screamed for her to give up, to just let go and sink into unconsciousness, but somehow she stayed awake, teeth clenched as her mind tried to stitch together the fragmented, fuzzy pieces of what was happening. She could make out Zen on the phone, his responses sharp and clipped. He was working for someone—who she couldn’t say, but nothing about it seemed good.
"He's-" She attempted to answer Ed's question, the words coming before the thoughts could even manifest. "It-" Yes, some form of necromancy. Ed basically guess just about the extent of what Aella knew. How did he stop it? No idea. What exactly was it? Also no idea. Who was Zen working for? ******** if she knew, but looking around it didn't seem good. "It... it's bad." There. Do something with that information Ed. Take it, make sense out of it, and come up with a plan. He was the smarter one anyway.
But then Zen approached them, and sent the girl off somewhere before another weaker groan slipped from her lips. Too many people switching hands. Wait, that girl that just disappeared... had he used the green magic or was that his old magic? She couldn't tell, her thoughts were getting fuzzy and she felt cold all over. Her slender form lay crumpled, soaked from the relentless rain that ran in rivulets down her blood-streaked skin, plastering strands of snowy white hair to her face and neck. Aella’s delicate features, even in this battered state, didn't diminish how her pale skin seemed almost luminescent against the murky backdrop or how soft her cheeks were beneath the smudge of grime that crested the bones.
"'Mcold..." She murmured, her voice barely audible. Zen would feel her body begin to tremble under the pressure of his palm, shivering. For a brief moment her eyes rolled back into her head but then snapped forward, too stubborn to let darkness claim her just yet. She searched first for Ed to try and silently call off her plea to stop Zen. He seemed... himself for now. Then they flickered back to the assassin above her, seeking Zen's unfamiliar glowing irises, the silver and blue-green of her own barely visible under heavy lids. Perhaps she was looking for some remnant of familiarity within them, something that she could hold onto in the moment. Dim fragments of light reflected through the heavy veil of her lashes like shimmering pieces glass, hinting at their usual shattered array even as they faded under the weight of exhaustion. "If... he doesn't make it..." Aella's voice slurred. "Atleass... I won't have to wash you die a third time..."
Where: behind the bar With: innocent bystanders Doing: hiding Wearing:
Do not fall in love with people like me. I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.
Posted: Sat Nov 30, 2024 9:19 pm
[
______________________________
Location: Cueva de Víboras With:Aella, the servers, and Zen Mood:Calm Condition:Good Current Outfit:[Outfit]
He’d listened as Aella struggled to make out words through the obvious pain of her wound but she had finally managed a meager ‘It’s bad’ before Zen’s approach had cut her off. It was then the steely assassin finally looked his way and addressed him. Édouard listened as Zen spoke of how he had also been keen on the painting. He couldn’t help but smirk a little when the claim was made that it was in his “best interest” to turn it over. This was followed up by telling Édouard not to be hard to find which also amused him but he left that emotion buried for now. Zen was attempting to make his way around someone else when a voice called out.
“There’s someone else still alive, eh?” He muttered mostly to himself. The man was ushered over and he stood silently and listened as the man handed over a phone. It took a couple of seconds to pick out that the other voice had seemed somewhat familiar. A name had not sprung to mind but to him, it was a voice he had known once. He let his cold blue gaze jump from Zen to Aella and for some reason it rang Rengoku bells in his head. Either way, he wasn’t very discrete about his eavesdropping. The word “bureau” piqued his interest. He took that to mean only one thing: the BoM. Édouard was not overly fond of them but also not surprised they’d slimed their way into this gathering somehow. Apparently this time because it gathered a large number of shifty and sleazy people all in one place for easy disposal.
The rest of the call wasn’t actually nearly as useful as he’d hoped. The other man was looking over the killer’s shoulder on behalf of “the Bureau” and apart from the sterilization mentioned that was all he had gleaned from it. He adjusted his weight and let his eyes wander over the mess Zen had left in his wake. Even from behind the bar it was clear that there had been an utter blood bath in the auction hall. He brought his focus back to the “action” such as it was when the portal opened. Zen had claimed he had no time to draw anymore blood but that portal did not look like it led to a safe haven. Not that the messenger had paid its foreboding look any mind. He wasn’t sure where it led but he watched the man finally build up the courage to rush into it. He couldn’t help but audibly scoff at the sight and mutter the word “idiot” under his breath.
Finally their murdering intruder had knelt down next to Aella and just like that, the woman he’d told to put pressure on the gunshot wound was gone. He raised an eyebrow at that but then continued to watch in silence. Zen told her that he was going to send for someone to heal her but she looked pretty bad. He couldn’t hear much of what she was saying owing to how quiet and weak her voice had become but had managed to pick out something about dying again. That would explain why Zen seemed different than the last time he’d seen him. That was a curious note to add but he was increasingly getting the feeling that the time to take his leave was fast approaching. Everyone who’d seen him there who wasn’t Zen or on the cusp of death Aella was dealt with in one way or another…well, almost everyone. He let his calculating gaze fall upon the other servers who were still cowering off to the side afraid, confused, and soaking wet. Zen’s interests were clearly elsewhere and when the cleaners came, anyone still alive in the building would be cleaned up, as it were. Still sword man had sent one away. Was he going to take care of the others? It was his mess after all.
He moved his right hand back to rest his closed fist against his hip. He rotated his posture a bit to face more toward Zen and Aella. He hated having to interrupt their moment, such as it was, but Édouard was going to anyway. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Almost everyone is accounted for. But what are you going to do with them?” He asked motioning his head toward the remaining servers. They looked up at him, concern filling their faces as he was bringing attention to them directly. “After all, Zen, you know nothing good will come from just leaving them here. Your friends from the Bureau will see to that.” He had intentionally said the assassin’s name. Now there were a couple of young terrified women who knew the swordsman that had attacked the auction house had a name and they knew what that name was. It was also a way to verify that he was indeed Édouard and that he had also recognized who Zen was from back in Rengoku.
It was a jerk move and he’d be the first to admit that but he was curious if Zen would still show them mercy or if he’d let them perish to hide his identity. Édouard already knew which he’d choose if it was him in the assassin’s position. He was also not interested in tidying up any of this disaster himself. Someone was coming who would heal Aella assuming she didn’t die before they arrived and his own people and the painting were safely away from there. He moved his hand away from his hip and snapped his fingers, a portal opening up behind him. He reached over to his breast pocket and removed his sunglasses and flicked them open. Once they were securely back on his face and he resumed his normal appearance he took a step backwards and looked the group behind the bar over once more. “Not to sound rude but I think it’s time we parted ways once more.”
A third time… Speaking on the number of times he had lost his life made him flinch, yet his eyes remained locked in Aella. There was guilt hidden behind the window of those hazel irises. He had died in front of her twice now… too weak to cling to his vitality and fight for what he wanted: her…his resolve was further broken the second time. While he hated to admit it, there was a brief reflection on how convenient his death was as an escape from the crumbling relationship he had with Aella. Zen’s jaw flexed as he took a deep breath in through his nose. Past all those moments of ‘validated’ sacrifice, he had failed to ever see it through her eyes; how selfish had he become? “I’m sorry,” Zen whispered to Aella, the sweat on her brow gluing her once diaphanous hair to her face in unglamorous clumps as her body crept closer and closer to hemodynamic shock. He didn’t say what for, nor did he elaborate. He just continued in that low baritone voice of his. “I don’t plan to see what that’s like…He’ll heal you, just hang on a little longer.” Even while her vision became unfocused, Zen wouldn’t take his eyes off of her……until Ed Spoke up…specifically his name.
There was a coiling aggression close to lashing out against the other man for speaking it out so deliberately, his eyes shot to the side sharply so he could more easily look over his shoulder. So his hunch was right, this really was Ed…but that revelation was coupled with an intentional narrative that soured his impression of him. The other servers now knew his name, and once they set foot in the real world they may very well go and deliver it to the authorities…painting him as the killer he very much was…yet while that likely would strain his movement in Barcelona, he just didn’t care. “I’ll send them back…once Aella is taken care of…” Zen answered in a low and uncaring tone. In the end, they were innocent…and he had no intention of silencing her voices for his own gain…but they would have to wait a while longer. Right now they were not his priority. Of course, keeping Aella at the core of his decisions was tested once more as Ed informed them that he felt it best to part ways-even after Zen had told him to stay. The assassin’s eyes narrowed…but he said nothing. He had hoped Levi would come, heal Aella, and then handle Ed himself before berating him for his failure…but at this point, if the man left, it really wouldn’t change the state of his ineptitude. “Fine…” Zen said coldly, finally giving up on keeping the man there.
Only after that did space crack and tremble behind the bar, startling the remaining servers enough to pull muffled shrieks from their throats as they scrambled further into the nearest corner. A thin vertical line in reality gradually began to tear apart…but something felt off-at least to Zen. The only real indicator was that the stone he had used to call Levi suddenly began to crack and crumble as if its vitality was robbed from it. “...Let’s go…c’mon,” The Devil's familiar voice reached out to the blood soaked auction house from beyond the portal that ripped open enough for a person to step through…except the first person to step out wasn’t Levi at all…but rather Mephitis. “Mephitis?” Zen’s low tone inquired to the ether and not really to anyone in particular. Why was he here? Following right after him was Levi, wearing a white button up with the collar lightly dusted with red speckles and smoothly pressed luxurious black pants. The scent of iron would crash into the two newcomers almost immediately as they passed into the silent carnage that existed in the wake of Zenith’s slaughter. It likely would take the dragon some time to adjust to the gruesome scene of gutted cadavers, but it didn’t take Levi even a second to understand what had transpired…and in that moment he also was very aware of just how dire things had just become. With the stone’s energy dry, the portal snapped shut behind the two.
“What the fu** happened!?” The infernal king cursed loudly behind Meph, his gentle nudge to guide him forward immediately mutated into a sharp shove to the side as he stormed forward. Zen winced a little, expecting Levi to fix all the damage that he had caused before his verbal rebuke…but the truth was that the swordsman didn’t understand just how bad things really were yet.
~
What in the actual Fu**!? The bodies strewn all over the place, the floor saturated in drying blood, the random dude who had just put on glasses like he was planning to walk away from an explosion or some shi*...Levi didn’t have enough fu**s to give for such insignificant things…because almost immediately he came to realize three things: That Aella was here, that her life was declining, and that he really didn’t have the ability to heal her-not without ruining him at least. He had invested his mana in testing the highest degree of arcane theory…and thus had walked into this nightmare completely unprepared. Still, he couldn’t care less about the consequences. Levi’s pace was slowed to a halt about 3 feet away from Aella, but there was a clear weakness in his approach as he stumbled more than once; he even had to catch himself on the bartop for stability during one of those instances. Once he stopped, the infernal king reached a single hand out in front of him…and then tightly closed it into a fist. In that moment the lead in the young elementalist’s body was stolen from her body in that instant…and at the same time Levi’s healing magic robbed her of any pain from that sudden absence as well as any that had been plaguing her beforehand. Once the blood stained bullet warped into his closed fist, Levi aggressively tossed it to the side while he continued to dress Aella in the highest level of healing magic he was capable of. The cold chill of her body was gradually chased away by the soothing warmth of Levi’s magic as the metal fragments of the bullet clinked against the distant floor…but her body didn’t repair itself as seamlessly as Zen would predict.
“Levi, I’m sorry…I was shortsighted and-”
“I don’t want to hear i- BLAAHH,” before he could shut the man up himself, the toll of overexerting himself took hold of him as he vomited copious amounts of blood. At that moment, the Devil’s vision became blurry as he reached out the bar counter for support, but was too weak to actually keep himself standing as he crumbled to the floor. His torso hitting the ground with a solid thud. His body was shaking as it suddenly carried the most agonizing pain that overexerting oneself magically could deliver. Even his cells began to die one by one as he drained their near negligible amounts of mana just to heal Aella. If anyone tried to reach him, they would find Levi’s eyes not only bloodshot…but actually bleeding! Steady streams of his life essence dribbled from his nose and ears as well as he persisted in his meager healing magic. At this point he couldn’t speak a single word, his fury devolving to a feral growl through his clenched teeth. For a moment he was closing his eyes firmly shut, hoping to endure the pain until Aella was fully recovered…but alas…things couldn’t be that simple…and the exalted Healing magic he was famous for drifted away from the girl more and more. Then…things got worse.
Before anyone could even comprehend what was coming, Levi’s eyes went wide with shock as he spun around and leaned his back against the inside of the bar. He looked for anyone to speak directly to…but if noone was there he would choke out a weak and pitiful sound that seemed like he was trying to say something. The Devil tried his best to speak through the agony that threatened to dismantle him entirely…but before he could actually give a warning…the auction room began to rumble…the very fabric of the small pocket dimension becoming more and more compromised as something approached from beyond. “You all…need to… *BLAAHHH* fu**ing L-Leave… NOW!”[/color[
Zenith’s eyes went wide, as Levi’s fall removed him from view. “Mephitis what’s happening!?” Zen called out…but If the dragon was anywhere in arms reach from the Devil, he would grab him by the collar and spit an order. “Get everyone out..n-now!”
『 It's in the air and it's all around 』xxxxx xxxxxxxxxx Location: Cueva de Víboras xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Company: Aella, Zen, Levi, and Ed. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Internally: ... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Wearing: Fancy suit
When Mephitis stepped through the portal, he expected to find himself back in the dojo or even a remote location that would keep their meeting a secret. After all, he trusted that Zenith with Levi's guidance would have an easy time snatching such an item. The fool couldn't have been more wrong. With his first step, Mephitis sent a ripple through a puddle of blood. The red ichor spreading out even further from this mere disturbance and further still as his other foot came through the portal. His feet locked themselves there as he beheld the horror. Everywhere he looked there was death. Bodies lying lifeless against the floor and the walls. All of them carved in such a way that it made clear who the perpetrator was. Why though? Was such carnage truly necessary for this one item? If Mephitis had known... He never wanted this. The Pyriah King had promised himself that no one else would die because of his need for vengeance. The goal of attaining the world seed was so he wouldn't have to sacrifice others. Here he was though, leaving death in his wake. Each step forward coming with the blood of others even if it wasn't his intention.
"What the fu** happened!?”
Mephitis was ripped out of his thoughts finally as he heard the devil's voice. Before he could even react, the dragon was shoved to the side. Levi diving past him for someone Mephitis hadn't noticed in his daze but she became the mage's singular focus once he had. Everything seemed to slow down for Meph as soon as he spotted that snowy hair. His body falling to side and about to crash into the bar, but the young man couldn't care about that in the slightest. His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts in the span of a second. It pleaded with whatever god that would listen for it to not be her. He knew better than that though. Sorrow and anger filled those chromatic eyes as they came upon a familiar face. Her pretty features torturing his soul as she fought for her life.
Aella. As soon as her name rang out in his mind, it beckoned the chaos of his rampant emotions to come forth. A pulse rushing through the very weave responded to the man. Chromatic, arcane threads appeared within the very around them as they rolled like a sea in a storm. Gleaming, mirror-like scales pierced through the skin of his body and formed a plated armor. His bright eyes separated by pitch-black, draconic slits. As his horns started to pierce through his hair, Mephitis crashed into the bar. His body working off pure instinct as he forced himself off the bar and towards Aella. His feet crashing into the floor as he rushed past Levi while the devil's strength faltered. Those predatory eyes snapping down towards the bullet wound just as Levi summoned the lead from it. It shot past the dragon but Mephitis didn't look back. He couldn't let her out of his sight, not when he knew that she had been shot. His knees crashing into the ground just as Levi started to heal Aella.
"A-Aella. Speak to me. Please ******** say something." His voice shook just as much as his hands as he reached out towards the girl. One hand cradling her head as the other held onto her cheek. His touch so gentle as he feared she'd break right there if he wasn't. Levi would heal her, right? He would save her and then Mephitis could take her far away from this place. His hope only summoned greater despair as Levi's magic suddenly failed. The dragon turned his head. Even though his vision was blurred by hot tears, he could see that Levi was vomiting up blood. Mephitis knew why and he also knew that would be all Levi would have left. It wasn't enough though for the dragon! Mephitis needed to be sure that Aella was going to be okay. He couldn't lose her now after all they went through. He turned his gaze back towards Aella and started to think of what he could do. Healing magic wouldn't work. It was the one arcane school that eluded him. He wasn't trained in medicine either so that was useless. How could he save her?
"Shut up!" Mephitis' voice growled out a deeper, dual-toned resonance. It was his draconic voice coming out from the pure desperation and anger he felt. He didn't want to hear a word from anyone else until he was certain Aella was okay. Why couldn't she be a damned dragon and... Mephitis' eyes went wide as his claws grabbed at the collar of his suit and sliced through the material. “Get everyone out..n-now!” "Not yet! Not until she's okay!" His button-up shirt and tie falling to the sides in shreds as he reached beneath and pulled at a necklace. He seized a strange, circular device that shined bright with that arcane blue energy attached to the chain and pressed a button on the side to deactivate it. Suddenly, Mephitis' chaotic mana came rushing out in full force. The weave lighting up around them once more and this time staying charged. The mana scars upon his chest and right arm glowed while his breath shimmered with the energy. He breathed down upon Aella, letting his power wash over here. She had a draconic form. All he needed to do was activate it and she'd get his race's resilience as well, right?
TLDR
Meph freezes for a second. Rushes over to Aella and gets down on his knees near her. Freaks out when Levi can't heal her. Deactivates a necklace that keeps his mana in control and breaths mana onto Aella to activate her draconic form
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx 『 With a taste of a poison paradise 』
The Panda Samurai
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Anika Nyame Captain
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Posted: Wed Jan 01, 2025 10:46 pm
tab ❧ I'm the violence in the pouring rain.
Aella’s senses ebbed and flowed like a tide, dull one moment and razor-sharp the next, leaving her suspended in a surreal limbo. The searing pain in her side was a cruel tether, each pulse of agony dragging her back from the precipice of unconsciousness. She clung desperately to the faint, rhythmic press of Zen’s hand over her wound—his touch the only constant in a maelstrom of disjointed sights and the sound of his whispered apology ringing in her ears.
She wanted to respond—to say something bitter, maybe even forgiving, though she wasn’t sure which would win out. Her lips parted, but only a strained exhale escaped, a weak protest lost amid the chaos. When Édouard spoke, his voice sliced through her haze, sharp and deliberate. Even in her current state, she recognized that inflection. Her blurry gaze sought him out, the signature sunglasses and effortless posture marking him as a figure that was both maddening and grounding.
“Ed…” she mumbled, her voice slurred. “You’re… such a d**k…” The words were faint, almost inaudible, but a flicker of defiance glimmered in her heavy-lidded eyes. For a moment, her lips twitched in what might have been a shadow of a smirk if she weren’t teetering on the edge of collapse but she didn’t have the strength to keep playfighting and pretending she didn’t like him.
Suddenly, the sound of space tearing apart reverberated through the room. Aella didn’t even flinch, too caught in her haze, but the unmistakable sound of a familiar voice loudly cursing jolted her back into focus. Her lashes fluttered open, though she hadn’t realized they’d closed.
“Levi?” she murmured, confusion clouding her expression. He shouldn’t be here. Yet it was unmistakably him. Warmth suddenly washed over her, soothing and comforting, as though her pain was ebbing away into nothingness. For a moment, Aella thought she was slipping into oblivion, or perhaps a blissful afterlife. It wasn’t so bad. It was… nice. Comfortable. Then hands cradled her head, grounding her again. “Meph?” she whispered, her lashes fluttering as she blinked up at him. The sharp planes of his face were drawn tight with worry, his normally mischievous eyes filled with something heavier. Was he supposed to be here? The confusion deepened. Was he an angel? No, angels were supposed to be happy, and he didn’t look happy at all.
Some color began slowly returning to her cheeks and she began to feel more awake, less confused- maybe not less confused. She had a clear enough mind to know that Levi and Meph really weren't supposed to be there! Panic suddenly shot through her chest and she jolted up from the floor, sitting up in a way that caused her forgotten wound to gush, making it difficult for the magic to stitch the hole in her body back together. She didn't notice though, because the pain was gone and her focus was on Levi who has vomited and promptly face planted in said vomit.
"What's wrong with him?!" She cried, but as she attempted to go to his aid, the pain began to return thanks to the healing magic fading. The pain wasn't super bad at first- just a twinge, a reminder that she had been shot and a wake up call that she wasn't fully healed. Aella looked down, a hand pressing to the puncture wound in her side and coming back slick with red. Why wasn’t it working? Why hadn’t she healed? And why was Levi in such a state? Her frantic gaze shifted to Meph, hoping for answers, but before she could speak, a brilliant surge of light erupted. Energy crackled in the air as she got a face full of mana breath.
The transformation hit her like a tidal wave, an overwhelming surge that drowned her in searing heat and crackling energy. It started as a tingling sensation at the edges of her consciousness, a faint static hum that built into a fiery crescendo. Her skin prickled painfully as crystalline scales erupted along her cheekbones, spreading in intricate patterns that shimmered like sunlight refracted through ice. The scales carved their way down her spine and over her limbs, their glossy surfaces glinting with a brilliance that seemed almost otherworldly. Her nails grew longer, each one hardening into sharp, crystalline talons. The edges glimmered with a razor sheen, as if they had been polished to perfection. The tips caught the light, refracting it in shards of rainbows that danced against the walls. Her pupils narrowed into slits, glowing with an intense draconic luminescence that mirrored the fiery transformation overtaking her.
Despite the overwhelming rush of power, the pain in her side didn’t fade. Her features twisted in frustration and a grimace of pain as she turned back to Meph. “Levi needs sex,” she said, her voice ragged but insistent. She pressed her hand against her side again, trying to staunch the bleeding. “It’s the only way he can heal. He’s an incubus—physical intimacy is how his body works.” Even as she explained, Aella’s thoughts were racing. She wasn’t a viable candidate—not like this. And Levi, in his current state, wasn’t exactly… appealing nor was he in a state to help himself, but if they didn’t act soon...
"You have to do something." Aella pleaded to Mephitis, then looked to Zen, then looked to Ed. Surely at least one of them would help, she'd never seen Levi in such a bad state.
Where: floor With: meph and errybody Doing: not dying Wearing:
Do not fall in love with people like me. I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.
