The moment I complete the intricate dance of mastering Excavator, the altered time shatters like glass around me. I stagger forward, catching myself on the cold stone floor of the dim cellar. A ravenous hunger gnaws at my insides, an immediate reminder of the passage of time within this temporal anomaly caused by the Timewarped Delver with his return—I haven't eaten in nearly an entire week. My muscles are slightly weathered, but my mind... it's never been more clear.
I ignore the looming thoughts about the hand and the man who likely composes it to stand up. My legs are slightly shaky from moving so little, but I feel...
But before I can voice my exhaustive newfound strength, the very foundation of the house above trembles. The distant staccato of gunfire ruptures the air, reverberating through the earth beneath me. Alarm seizes my senses, and I glance at Bonfire, who awakens from his slumber with a start.
He sits up without hesitation as if he hasn't had any issue fighting the internal war. Dark blue fire bursts forth from his palms, casting an eerie glow in the cramped space.
Underneath the bed, Dakota stirs, his senses attuned to the impending turmoil. I watch as the fox crawls toward me, and I pet him while the trembles continue. The cellar we've hidden within for nearly two weeks now echoes the chaotic war of the world unraveling above.
I meet Bonfire's gaze as I pocket the hourglass. I give it a long glance as it is utterly empty of sand. Sighing, I toss it to the side. The Timewarped Delver's arrival must have eaten through the rest of it.
"It's starting. You ready?"
My friend wipes his face with a scarred hand before nodding, the sleep wholly gone from his facade. I can see the antsyness in him. He needs to be let out of this place.
"Been ready."
I nod to him, stepping toward the cellar door as I hear shouts above from the family who resides within it. My head tilts as I listen closely with Echo.
"Stay away! There is nothing for you bandits here! If you want gold, go into the city, you cowards!"
A shuffling of feet and an explosion of a gun follow the father who owns the house's words. Gunfire echoes through the air above again, snapping me to action. Without a second thought, I sprint out of the cellar, determination pulsating through every sinew of my being. These people don't deserve to be attacked!
What is Maddox doing!?
I can let some things pass because I am too far and incapable of preventing them. But right before my own fucking eyes? No way.
The lives of the family who have unknowingly harbored us for many days hang in the balance, and I cannot stand idly by. If I did... then I wouldn't be me.
Emerging into the chaos above, I witness an elderly man, the widowed father, kneeling in front of his broken shotgun. Unsigiled and defenseless, he faces a merciless onslaught. A dozen Sigiled bandits from Maddox's armada of violence, each adorned with colored phantasmal chains, surround him, seeking to plunder his home and possessions. Thankfully, the highest is only a 4th Sigiled. A mighty foe once upon a time. Now?
In an instant, my resolve solidifies. Chains burst forth from my form with a life of their own, propelled by an urgency to protect the innocent.
The depths of my soul order the projectiles, and like bullets, they streak toward the attackers, finding their mark in the throats of each assailant. The 4th Sigiled twists, attempting to dodge with all his strength, and he succeeds.
But he doesn't evade the second one, nor the third, seeing as the second doesn't kill him instantly.
Maddox's followers, armed with an array of Colts and Claymores, crumple to the ground in less than two seconds from my exiting the basement.
Amid the dissipating echoes of violence nearby and the heightening of death waybound, I extend a steadying hand to the shaken family.
"You're safe now. Take their weapons and head west to Gravecross. They welcome refugees."
The father looks up at me in shock, his hands still filled with incessant tremors. He stands slowly, hauling his daughter to her feet as blood drips down their faces unhurriedly. Earhardt, the young woman, seems paralyzed by the situation, and her father takes charge.
"Thank... you. I am Rorsch, this is Earhardt. I will wait for my wife, though. She is a Colonel. We can't just up and ditch our whole lives after some bandits."
I meet the old man's gaze as another quake shakes our balance. He doesn't seem to understand.
"These aren't mere bandits. The war has arrived. By morn', either the false Prime will be alive, or there will be a new leader of humanity."
Rorsch's eyes widen at my words and he twists to glare at the city far away in the distance. Wetness builds at the creases between his brows. He understands now.
A Forerunner, no matter whether they have family or not, will be integral to the war. She isn't coming back for them unless she directly disobeys orders. That is not something I can see happening if they work under the Estates.
I reach out and place a hand on the man's shoulder as all my chains sink back into my flesh. The Living Manacles within me are exactly that: living, even if they do not possess their own thoughts or souls. With Shiver, I can't imagine them not exploding from my form the instant I am under threat.
With every day, I grow more powerful. Eventually, I'll catch up to him.
"Go to Gravecross."
I would offer to aid his wife, but that is a commitment I cannot afford to make. She will likely be my enemy, and I will not have the spare focus to worry about anything more than killing Eli. The old man sheds a plethora of tears, the liquid intertwining with the crimson before his home. But he doesn't hesitate anymore beyond a simple sigh.
"Come, darling. Let's go."
Earhardt only looks up now, disjointed and anxious as she struggles to comprehend what is happening. I offer her a simple smile before turning away. We can't waste much more time.
We need to be there now. Or else Elizabeth's plans are threatened. As we step away, though, Bonfire and Dakota hot on my heels, Rorsch calls out to me. His eyes are thrust open in shock as if realizing something that is far beyond his station.
"What's your name, young man?"
I wave back to him, being brutally honest now that I have the power to protect my own skin.
"Wyatt Graves."
I don't hear the man's response as I wrap Bonfire and Dakota with Living Manacles, the soulful chains moving before I even formulate the thought. Multiple carry each of them far more efficiently than I could with my arms.
"Put me down! I am just as fast as you are, if not faster, dammit! I'll... incinerate your favorite socks!"
The corner of my lip curls as I enjoy seeing Bonfire act like his old self, even if just for a little bit. Still, I ignore his plea. I can't have him exhausting himself on the way there.
I am hungry, though. Oh...
My manacle just caught a bird.
Huh... I'll have to watch out for that. I think I may have a little too much control over them, if that makes any sense.
"Cook it!"
Emmet Knox stares at me incredulously as I sprint across the terrain of Onyx Gate, barreling straight for the core of the city. He is furious at being relegated to an on-the-go oven, but he doesn't refuse.
He's hungry, too.
"You... fine. You only caught one!? What about me?"
This one provokes an entire bout of laughter from my lungs, and to return his words, my chains spark out again, catching a rabbit diving into its warren. These chains...
"Yes! Here, you can have the rabbit. I like poultry."
Sprinting across the vast plain with a morsel of meat in my mouth, I fix my gaze on the not-so-distant city ahead. Watching such destruction while filling my belly is odd, but I must. Blodwyn works better when he is sated, and truth be told, so do I.
Fires erupt like angry stars against the night sky, gunfire incessant in the air. My pace quickens, each step sending tremors through the earth beneath me. Bonfire coughs up some of the pheasant I caught from the sudden jerk, but he doesn't complain. Instead, he shovels more food into his mouth. He ate during the week-long break, but he's still a hungry bastard, taking some from me.
Dakota whines, and I give him some of my rabbit. I'll have to catch another in a second.
As I approach the inner city, I notice Maddox's bandits scattered around, looting the outer houses with impunity. Gritting my teeth, I resist the urge to confront them. The city takes precedence, a burning desire eclipsing the pain of ignoring the marauders. Revenge is as they say.
A hiltless blade, sundering both the deliverer and the receiver. That's fine, though. I can atone after for letting others suffer. In the end, it will be better for all with Eli dead.
The unfolding chaos deepens my resolve, but shock and awe seize me as a colossal wave of air, reminiscent of a crescent moon, cleaves through nearly every building in the city in an upward arc.
I stagger, nearly to a halt, under the weight of what I witness, the raw power behind this act unfathomable. The destruction begins at the ground, tearing through structures with an unforgiving force. Closest to the wave, buildings crumble from their foundations, a dozen stories collapsing in chaotic descent. Further away, the impact doesn't lessen but instead moves at a rising diagonal, hitting fewer buildings, but the devastation is no less profound.
Someone or something has laid waste to the city. But who?
Maddox uses water, and none of Eli's men hold such power. Where did this person come from? Is it the Blinded Man? No... he doesn't have such explosive force.
Only one figure I know alive could possibly do such a thing, but... he's crippled without arms. Unless... Did Maddox help him regrow them in exchange for his help? That must be it. Lennon is selfish and supremely battle-hungry, but he wouldn't do such a thing unless forced to.
Right? I just have to believe in myself for now.
Yet, driven by a purpose that transcends the carnage, I press on, my heart heavy with the weight of a city nearly reduced to ruins. With only a few minutes, we near the opening streets of Onyx Gate, and I let my companions down. Dust, smoke, and fire strike hot the moment we enter. Gunfire is simply continuous, with no points of a bullet not being fired. The echoes enter my ears, never leaving. Dakota shrinks back, the noises too much for him, and even Bonfire seems uncomfortable. I spin around, finding dozens of buildings already burnt down, the charred remains smoldering.
This... this is war.
Something alerts my senses, and a Living Manacle exits the skin on my neck, only to meet the sundering force of a bullet. My chain doesn't falter but is knocked aside as it deflects the ambushing projectile. Pivoting, I gaze in the direction the bullet came from.
At first, I don't see anything through the smoke of the fallen buildings, but after Tempering my eyes, I catch a glimmer of magenta. An Angel. But which one?
And already? I just entered. Though, to be a marksman like that, they have to have good vision. They must have been waiting specifically for me.
Marksman... among the Pillars? No. There is a reason why Johnny was so famous, even as a 6th Sigiled. There are no known shooters like him. It can only be one of Eli's hidden Angels. But... I thought there was only one left? And that one seemed to be more like a brute. Hmm... I'll have to keep my eyes out. It could... possibly be something more sinister going on.
Maddox is quite brave coming here as the only Angel in his armada, but I suppose he isn't the only one at the same time. He is relying on Bonfire, me, and the other people that are to come here.
I raise my voice so that Bonfire can hear me as I keep my eyes stationed on where I last saw the fleeting figure.
"You and Dakota should go find Elizabeth. She'll give us the updated plan. I'll put my Insight on you. The factory will explode, but at this point, with that slice of air, it won't matter. I think she'd make the same call."
Bonfire nods, but I can tell he wants to fight. I lay a hand on him, careful not to touch his fire as I reassure the trembling pyro.
"You'll get your fight, and we'll find Abraham, okay? Just find her. Let Dakota help. He has quite the sniffer. For now, I'll go chase after that Angel."
My friend returns me a smile and he shakes my hand, grabbing my arm with both his palms.
"Okay. Make sure you come back to us quickly. Eli is the goal, remember? Then we go into the Underworld as soon as possible."
I nod to him before leaping away with my Living Manacles, trusting Dakota to have understood our conversation. He's rather intelligent now, and while I feel bad about constantly leaving him behind, he just can't keep up. He's only a fox. I love him. Dearly. But... it's the truth. He's only a year old kit that I found after killing his parents for food. I had no heart to end him, so I kept him. I'd prefer if he were safe than forcing himself to keep up with me.
The chains from my body hurtle me through the air as I glimpse Bonfire sprinting through the fog, Dakota right behind him with flickering darkness around his fur coat. Good. He is still improving.
Swinging through the city, I pursue the elusive glimpse of magenta, slicing through the dust and smoke veiling the fallen buildings. My chains, sinuous and metallic extensions from my flesh, propel me at a speed surpassing any sprint I could do on the ground over the debris-strewn terrain.
As I soar, a sudden volley of gunfire targets me again. This time, the bullets possess an unprecedented velocity and force. A chain morphs defensively, attempting to shield me, but the steel projectile devastates it, penetrating my shoulder. A jolt of pain courses through me, but Blodwyn kicks into gear as the regenerative nature of his Ether expels the intruder with swift efficiency.
"The right!"
Listening to my companion, I follow his directions. My heart begins to drum in a thunderous rhythm, the adrenaline surge propelling me forward. The mere beat of Painsforge pushes away some of the smoke near us. I hold back from having Blodwyn push us to use his Dzil as he can't hold it for long.
It's best if we save it for when we need it.
Eyes fixed on the assailant's direction, I engage in the most dangerous game of cat and mouse in my life. A relentless chase ensues through the decimated city, the marksman persistently attempting to end my life. We pass by hundreds of more minor skirmishes, gradually getting closer to Primary. But we don't ever reach it, skirting around the edge of the most brutal conflict.
A dozen close calls follow before I see my attacker land in an open square devoid of debris due to the absence of nearby buildings. I hit the ground, facing the enigmatic gunman—a figure draped in grasses and foliage, brandishing a timeworn, single-shot rifle. The incongruity of the ancient gun against the devastating force it unleashed moments ago leaves me grappling with whether or not he was the one who shot at me.
Each bullet had the power of a cannon, at the very least, some more. Did it really come from that old thing?
The hooded figure, seemingly unfazed by our situation, unveils his visage, revealing a weathered face etched with a cryptic smile as he raises his eyes to meet mine. In an orchestrated display of surprise, two companions materialize beside him, descending gracefully from the surrounding trees.
I step back quickly while sending a warning to Blodwyn.
"Get ready. We might need your Tsavuk."
Each of the old man's companions clutches an artifact pulsating with shimmering power in their hands. The first is a whirling eyeball, and the second is a twisted, gnarled finger.
I wouldn't be so cautious if it weren't for the fetters wrapping around the artifacts, or, I should say, Arcas. Magenta chains warn me of their power.
"Who are you people?"
Ideas swim in my head about who they are, but I ask anyway. With Arcas, they can only be Estatesmen or Eli's subordinates. But... that old man... they can't be with Eli.
"You know who we are, or at least, where we side, Graves. Side with us. We want to kill both Maddox and Eli. They are impudent and arrogant, and the two of them are going to get us all killed at this rate. With you by our side... there is much we could do."
I weigh the offer for only a second before making my decision. No. Definitely no. I made a promise to Blodwyn to destroy the Estates. That lords over anything else here. Graves do not break promises. Plus, just the way the man speaks rubs me the wrong way.
Nonetheless, I probe for more information.
"I thought the Estates didn't have any Angels besides the Pillars?"
The older man scoffs, lowering his hood before caressing his archaic Colt. It doesn't even have a Sigil? It's not a Colt at all, only a regular rifle. This guy... he's a threat—a serious one. Whatever he did before had to be his Power. But what is it? Force amplification of some kind? I'm not sure. Earl could more easily figure this one out than me.
"You are young, Graves. Do you genuinely think humanity didn't hide some of its strength? Wars are broken because of the hidden daggers in the dark. My family would never allow our people to fall."
Nodding as his point makes sense, I stumble slightly at another massive tremor that spreads through the city. Then, I squint at him before glancing at the other two, similarly cloaked to hide their visages: 6th Sigiled, both of them wielding Arcas.
"And which family would that be?"
The old man puffs out his chest slightly, unable to hold his pride.
"Grimes."
My teeth grind as I remember what happened to Cassidy Monroe years and years ago—the Grimes. They weren't the main perpetrators, but some of the men after him wore their marks. Furthermore... the Grimes did have an Angel in the end. Their recruitment of Kai only let to him being set up to die.
"What if I were to say no?"
The Angel from the Grimes family clasps one hand around the handle of his rifle, raising it ever so slightly as if to warn me.
"Then we would have yet another enemy of humanity to slay."
His self-righteous attitude infuriates me as I feel Blodwyn bristle in anger. He knows.
"You don't speak for all of humanity. You only speak for your powerful families."
The Grimes shakes his head and nods to his companions. They, in turn, hold their Arcas aloft, preparing to fight.
"See, that's the thing, Graves. We do. We hold all the power. As such, we make the decisions. We control what happens. You and the rest cannot be allowed to choose, or you'll run us off a cliff like you are doing right now."
Is that so? Hmm... I chuckle lightly to myself as my heartbeat accelerates. They already shot at me. And... their names end with Grimes. This couldn't end any other way.
"Now."
"You used to hold all the power. Things have changed recently."
The moment I complete the intricate dance of mastering Excavator, the altered time shatters like glass around me. I stagger forward, catching myself on the cold stone floor of the dim cellar. A ravenous hunger gnaws at my insides, an immediate reminder of the passage of time within this temporal anomaly caused by the Timewarped Delver with his return—I haven't eaten in nearly an entire week. My muscles are slightly weathered, but my mind... it's never been more clear.
I ignore the looming thoughts about the hand and the man who likely composes it to stand up. My legs are slightly shaky from moving so little, but I feel...
But before I can voice my exhaustive newfound strength, the very foundation of the house above trembles. The distant staccato of gunfire ruptures the air, reverberating through the earth beneath me. Alarm seizes my senses, and I glance at Bonfire, who awakens from his slumber with a start.
He sits up without hesitation as if he hasn't had any issue fighting the internal war. Dark blue fire bursts forth from his palms, casting an eerie glow in the cramped space.
Underneath the bed, Dakota stirs, his senses attuned to the impending turmoil. I watch as the fox crawls toward me, and I pet him while the trembles continue. The cellar we've hidden within for nearly two weeks now echoes the chaotic war of the world unraveling above.
I meet Bonfire's gaze as I pocket the hourglass. I give it a long glance as it is utterly empty of sand. Sighing, I toss it to the side. The Timewarped Delver's arrival must have eaten through the rest of it.
"It's starting. You ready?"
My friend wipes his face with a scarred hand before nodding, the sleep wholly gone from his facade. I can see the antsyness in him. He needs to be let out of this place.
"Been ready."
I nod to him, stepping toward the cellar door as I hear shouts above from the family who resides within it. My head tilts as I listen closely with Echo.
"Stay away! There is nothing for you bandits here! If you want gold, go into the city, you cowards!"
A shuffling of feet and an explosion of a gun follow the father who owns the house's words. Gunfire echoes through the air above again, snapping me to action. Without a second thought, I sprint out of the cellar, determination pulsating through every sinew of my being. These people don't deserve to be attacked!
What is Maddox doing!?
I can let some things pass because I am too far and incapable of preventing them. But right before my own fucking eyes? No way.
The lives of the family who have unknowingly harbored us for many days hang in the balance, and I cannot stand idly by. If I did... then I wouldn't be me.
Emerging into the chaos above, I witness an elderly man, the widowed father, kneeling in front of his broken shotgun. Unsigiled and defenseless, he faces a merciless onslaught. A dozen Sigiled bandits from Maddox's armada of violence, each adorned with colored phantasmal chains, surround him, seeking to plunder his home and possessions. Thankfully, the highest is only a 4th Sigiled. A mighty foe once upon a time. Now?
In an instant, my resolve solidifies. Chains burst forth from my form with a life of their own, propelled by an urgency to protect the innocent.
The depths of my soul order the projectiles, and like bullets, they streak toward the attackers, finding their mark in the throats of each assailant. The 4th Sigiled twists, attempting to dodge with all his strength, and he succeeds.
But he doesn't evade the second one, nor the third, seeing as the second doesn't kill him instantly.
Maddox's followers, armed with an array of Colts and Claymores, crumple to the ground in less than two seconds from my exiting the basement.
Amid the dissipating echoes of violence nearby and the heightening of death waybound, I extend a steadying hand to the shaken family.
"You're safe now. Take their weapons and head west to Gravecross. They welcome refugees."
The father looks up at me in shock, his hands still filled with incessant tremors. He stands slowly, hauling his daughter to her feet as blood drips down their faces unhurriedly. Earhardt, the young woman, seems paralyzed by the situation, and her father takes charge.
"Thank... you. I am Rorsch, this is Earhardt. I will wait for my wife, though. She is a Colonel. We can't just up and ditch our whole lives after some bandits."
I meet the old man's gaze as another quake shakes our balance. He doesn't seem to understand.
"These aren't mere bandits. The war has arrived. By morn', either the false Prime will be alive, or there will be a new leader of humanity."
Rorsch's eyes widen at my words and he twists to glare at the city far away in the distance. Wetness builds at the creases between his brows. He understands now.
A Forerunner, no matter whether they have family or not, will be integral to the war. She isn't coming back for them unless she directly disobeys orders. That is not something I can see happening if they work under the Estates.
I reach out and place a hand on the man's shoulder as all my chains sink back into my flesh. The Living Manacles within me are exactly that: living, even if they do not possess their own thoughts or souls. With Shiver, I can't imagine them not exploding from my form the instant I am under threat.
With every day, I grow more powerful. Eventually, I'll catch up to him.
"Go to Gravecross."
I would offer to aid his wife, but that is a commitment I cannot afford to make. She will likely be my enemy, and I will not have the spare focus to worry about anything more than killing Eli. The old man sheds a plethora of tears, the liquid intertwining with the crimson before his home. But he doesn't hesitate anymore beyond a simple sigh.
"Come, darling. Let's go."
Earhardt only looks up now, disjointed and anxious as she struggles to comprehend what is happening. I offer her a simple smile before turning away. We can't waste much more time.
We need to be there now. Or else Elizabeth's plans are threatened. As we step away, though, Bonfire and Dakota hot on my heels, Rorsch calls out to me. His eyes are thrust open in shock as if realizing something that is far beyond his station.
"What's your name, young man?"
I wave back to him, being brutally honest now that I have the power to protect my own skin.
"Wyatt Graves."
I don't hear the man's response as I wrap Bonfire and Dakota with Living Manacles, the soulful chains moving before I even formulate the thought. Multiple carry each of them far more efficiently than I could with my arms.
"Put me down! I am just as fast as you are, if not faster, dammit! I'll... incinerate your favorite socks!"
The corner of my lip curls as I enjoy seeing Bonfire act like his old self, even if just for a little bit. Still, I ignore his plea. I can't have him exhausting himself on the way there.
I am hungry, though. Oh...
My manacle just caught a bird.
Huh... I'll have to watch out for that. I think I may have a little too much control over them, if that makes any sense.
"Cook it!"
Emmet Knox stares at me incredulously as I sprint across the terrain of Onyx Gate, barreling straight for the core of the city. He is furious at being relegated to an on-the-go oven, but he doesn't refuse.
He's hungry, too.
"You... fine. You only caught one!? What about me?"
This one provokes an entire bout of laughter from my lungs, and to return his words, my chains spark out again, catching a rabbit diving into its warren. These chains...
"Yes! Here, you can have the rabbit. I like poultry."
Sprinting across the vast plain with a morsel of meat in my mouth, I fix my gaze on the not-so-distant city ahead. Watching such destruction while filling my belly is odd, but I must. Blodwyn works better when he is sated, and truth be told, so do I.
Fires erupt like angry stars against the night sky, gunfire incessant in the air. My pace quickens, each step sending tremors through the earth beneath me. Bonfire coughs up some of the pheasant I caught from the sudden jerk, but he doesn't complain. Instead, he shovels more food into his mouth. He ate during the week-long break, but he's still a hungry bastard, taking some from me.
Dakota whines, and I give him some of my rabbit. I'll have to catch another in a second.
As I approach the inner city, I notice Maddox's bandits scattered around, looting the outer houses with impunity. Gritting my teeth, I resist the urge to confront them. The city takes precedence, a burning desire eclipsing the pain of ignoring the marauders. Revenge is as they say.
A hiltless blade, sundering both the deliverer and the receiver. That's fine, though. I can atone after for letting others suffer. In the end, it will be better for all with Eli dead.
The unfolding chaos deepens my resolve, but shock and awe seize me as a colossal wave of air, reminiscent of a crescent moon, cleaves through nearly every building in the city in an upward arc.
I stagger, nearly to a halt, under the weight of what I witness, the raw power behind this act unfathomable. The destruction begins at the ground, tearing through structures with an unforgiving force. Closest to the wave, buildings crumble from their foundations, a dozen stories collapsing in chaotic descent. Further away, the impact doesn't lessen but instead moves at a rising diagonal, hitting fewer buildings, but the devastation is no less profound.
Someone or something has laid waste to the city. But who?
Maddox uses water, and none of Eli's men hold such power. Where did this person come from? Is it the Blinded Man? No... he doesn't have such explosive force.
Only one figure I know alive could possibly do such a thing, but... he's crippled without arms. Unless... Did Maddox help him regrow them in exchange for his help? That must be it. Lennon is selfish and supremely battle-hungry, but he wouldn't do such a thing unless forced to.
Right? I just have to believe in myself for now.
Yet, driven by a purpose that transcends the carnage, I press on, my heart heavy with the weight of a city nearly reduced to ruins. With only a few minutes, we near the opening streets of Onyx Gate, and I let my companions down. Dust, smoke, and fire strike hot the moment we enter. Gunfire is simply continuous, with no points of a bullet not being fired. The echoes enter my ears, never leaving. Dakota shrinks back, the noises too much for him, and even Bonfire seems uncomfortable. I spin around, finding dozens of buildings already burnt down, the charred remains smoldering.
This... this is war.
Something alerts my senses, and a Living Manacle exits the skin on my neck, only to meet the sundering force of a bullet. My chain doesn't falter but is knocked aside as it deflects the ambushing projectile. Pivoting, I gaze in the direction the bullet came from.
At first, I don't see anything through the smoke of the fallen buildings, but after Tempering my eyes, I catch a glimmer of magenta. An Angel. But which one?
And already? I just entered. Though, to be a marksman like that, they have to have good vision. They must have been waiting specifically for me.
Marksman... among the Pillars? No. There is a reason why Johnny was so famous, even as a 6th Sigiled. There are no known shooters like him. It can only be one of Eli's hidden Angels. But... I thought there was only one left? And that one seemed to be more like a brute. Hmm... I'll have to keep my eyes out. It could... possibly be something more sinister going on.
Maddox is quite brave coming here as the only Angel in his armada, but I suppose he isn't the only one at the same time. He is relying on Bonfire, me, and the other people that are to come here.
I raise my voice so that Bonfire can hear me as I keep my eyes stationed on where I last saw the fleeting figure.
"You and Dakota should go find Elizabeth. She'll give us the updated plan. I'll put my Insight on you. The factory will explode, but at this point, with that slice of air, it won't matter. I think she'd make the same call."
Bonfire nods, but I can tell he wants to fight. I lay a hand on him, careful not to touch his fire as I reassure the trembling pyro.
"You'll get your fight, and we'll find Abraham, okay? Just find her. Let Dakota help. He has quite the sniffer. For now, I'll go chase after that Angel."
My friend returns me a smile and he shakes my hand, grabbing my arm with both his palms.
"Okay. Make sure you come back to us quickly. Eli is the goal, remember? Then we go into the Underworld as soon as possible."
I nod to him before leaping away with my Living Manacles, trusting Dakota to have understood our conversation. He's rather intelligent now, and while I feel bad about constantly leaving him behind, he just can't keep up. He's only a fox. I love him. Dearly. But... it's the truth. He's only a year old kit that I found after killing his parents for food. I had no heart to end him, so I kept him. I'd prefer if he were safe than forcing himself to keep up with me.
The chains from my body hurtle me through the air as I glimpse Bonfire sprinting through the fog, Dakota right behind him with flickering darkness around his fur coat. Good. He is still improving.
Swinging through the city, I pursue the elusive glimpse of magenta, slicing through the dust and smoke veiling the fallen buildings. My chains, sinuous and metallic extensions from my flesh, propel me at a speed surpassing any sprint I could do on the ground over the debris-strewn terrain.
As I soar, a sudden volley of gunfire targets me again. This time, the bullets possess an unprecedented velocity and force. A chain morphs defensively, attempting to shield me, but the steel projectile devastates it, penetrating my shoulder. A jolt of pain courses through me, but Blodwyn kicks into gear as the regenerative nature of his Ether expels the intruder with swift efficiency.
"The right!"
Listening to my companion, I follow his directions. My heart begins to drum in a thunderous rhythm, the adrenaline surge propelling me forward. The mere beat of Painsforge pushes away some of the smoke near us. I hold back from having Blodwyn push us to use his Dzil as he can't hold it for long.
It's best if we save it for when we need it.
Eyes fixed on the assailant's direction, I engage in the most dangerous game of cat and mouse in my life. A relentless chase ensues through the decimated city, the marksman persistently attempting to end my life. We pass by hundreds of more minor skirmishes, gradually getting closer to Primary. But we don't ever reach it, skirting around the edge of the most brutal conflict.
A dozen close calls follow before I see my attacker land in an open square devoid of debris due to the absence of nearby buildings. I hit the ground, facing the enigmatic gunman—a figure draped in grasses and foliage, brandishing a timeworn, single-shot rifle. The incongruity of the ancient gun against the devastating force it unleashed moments ago leaves me grappling with whether or not he was the one who shot at me.
Each bullet had the power of a cannon, at the very least, some more. Did it really come from that old thing?
The hooded figure, seemingly unfazed by our situation, unveils his visage, revealing a weathered face etched with a cryptic smile as he raises his eyes to meet mine. In an orchestrated display of surprise, two companions materialize beside him, descending gracefully from the surrounding trees.
I step back quickly while sending a warning to Blodwyn.
"Get ready. We might need your Tsavuk."
Each of the old man's companions clutches an artifact pulsating with shimmering power in their hands. The first is a whirling eyeball, and the second is a twisted, gnarled finger.
I wouldn't be so cautious if it weren't for the fetters wrapping around the artifacts, or, I should say, Arcas. Magenta chains warn me of their power.
"Who are you people?"
Ideas swim in my head about who they are, but I ask anyway. With Arcas, they can only be Estatesmen or Eli's subordinates. But... that old man... they can't be with Eli.
"You know who we are, or at least, where we side, Graves. Side with us. We want to kill both Maddox and Eli. They are impudent and arrogant, and the two of them are going to get us all killed at this rate. With you by our side... there is much we could do."
I weigh the offer for only a second before making my decision. No. Definitely no. I made a promise to Blodwyn to destroy the Estates. That lords over anything else here. Graves do not break promises. Plus, just the way the man speaks rubs me the wrong way.
Nonetheless, I probe for more information.
"I thought the Estates didn't have any Angels besides the Pillars?"
The older man scoffs, lowering his hood before caressing his archaic Colt. It doesn't even have a Sigil? It's not a Colt at all, only a regular rifle. This guy... he's a threat—a serious one. Whatever he did before had to be his Power. But what is it? Force amplification of some kind? I'm not sure. Earl could more easily figure this one out than me.
"You are young, Graves. Do you genuinely think humanity didn't hide some of its strength? Wars are broken because of the hidden daggers in the dark. My family would never allow our people to fall."
Nodding as his point makes sense, I stumble slightly at another massive tremor that spreads through the city. Then, I squint at him before glancing at the other two, similarly cloaked to hide their visages: 6th Sigiled, both of them wielding Arcas.
"And which family would that be?"
The old man puffs out his chest slightly, unable to hold his pride.
"Grimes."
My teeth grind as I remember what happened to Cassidy Monroe years and years ago—the Grimes. They weren't the main perpetrators, but some of the men after him wore their marks. Furthermore... the Grimes did have an Angel in the end. Their recruitment of Kai only let to him being set up to die.
"What if I were to say no?"
The Angel from the Grimes family clasps one hand around the handle of his rifle, raising it ever so slightly as if to warn me.
"Then we would have yet another enemy of humanity to slay."
His self-righteous attitude infuriates me as I feel Blodwyn bristle in anger. He knows.
"You don't speak for all of humanity. You only speak for your powerful families."
The Grimes shakes his head and nods to his companions. They, in turn, hold their Arcas aloft, preparing to fight.
"See, that's the thing, Graves. We do. We hold all the power. As such, we make the decisions. We control what happens. You and the rest cannot be allowed to choose, or you'll run us off a cliff like you are doing right now."
Is that so? Hmm... I chuckle lightly to myself as my heartbeat accelerates. They already shot at me. And... their names end with Grimes. This couldn't end any other way.
"Now."
"You used to hold all the power. Things have changed recently."
