Chương 16

In the mist, Kirk found a brief moment of oblivion. Green smoke curled around him, isolating him from anything else. His fingers tightened on the Larian Saber. As he stepped, he heard the jingling at his side. He felt foolish, because hanging from his belt was the sac of geo cores. But he just grimaced and continued forward. He wasn't going to turn back now. Kirk emerged from the mist and sucked in a breath.

The environment here was even stranger- the area was pockmarked by steaming boulders, wrapped in the vein trees so the branches looked like literal capillaries on the rock. He crouched and stretched his senses to the limit. The hiss of steam. The sound of wind, but also the heavy, angry sounds of his breaths. Kirk forced his body to calm. Only then could he hear the sound of claws on stone, a little bit down the slope. Beyond the skitter of geos, he heard a voice. Several voices. Kirk crept forward.

He squeezed between two cracked boulders, careful not to touch the veins. Two geo-3s scampered past before he proceeded. Only a minute later, he approached the place with humanity, able to hear their voice clearly. During this time, his grip on the Larian Saber only tightened.

"How did you know it was a trap?" Said a hoarse voice. One that Kirk recognized. It was Zuri. She spoke in just a whisper. But for the first time, Kirk felt a stirring from his other Archetype, Spark Mage. It flickered into a burning coal, hanging in the air in front of him. It blazed with resentment. Hearing the voice, recognizing Zuri, Kirk wanted to straighten and bound forward and thunder into the situation. This time, it was the Beast that acted as a restraint. Wait, it hissed. Bide your time. Learn more.

See the throat of your target, so your blow can rip it out. An unknown individual snorted. Kirk glided over the ground, approaching an isolated area. The individuals had set themselves up in a ring of boulders, so he couldn't see them. He listened intently to the wind. The Beast released a breath; four individuals waited within. As if Kirk had needed anymore proof, but he saw the blood spattered on the ground, leading from one of the few entrances. His face warping with fury, Kirk stalked closer. A voice answered.

From the cold arrogance, it was the mustachioed man.

"When you've made as much profit as I have, you learn that most deals are traps. But no one is so foolish as to lay a trap without some tasty bait. So you take countermeasures. In this case-" Another individual groaned. Kirk recognized Maett.

"There's no need for that," Zuri spoke. Kirk could hear the rawness in her voice; she was desperately trying not to show how much she was panicking.

"Just kill us, then. We've failed. You've won."

"Obviously. But do you think you can plot against me without suffering?"

"Do you think you can treat our lives as dirt? We aren't levies." Zuri's voice turned harsh.

"We are Tier I Conduits. Plus, now that the porter escaped-""I have wielded this sword for long enough to know that worthless man won't make it to the stele." The man replied.

"And even if he did, so what? Peakhold has a single healer, for hundreds of Conduits, with several dozen dangerous wounds a day. For such a penniless waste, will they have the spare energy to help him? Even if they did, would they?

"This is reality. And reality is cruel and predictable. There are no miracles here." The mustachioed man chuckled as neither Zuri nor Maett contradicted him.

"In the rift, the chance of being discovered is infinitesimally small. So let's take our time."

"We waltzed into the Rift arm in arm." Maett spat out the words.

"If our exit isn't similarly united- gah!" Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. As Maett released a cry of pain, Kirk felt his pupils dilating. The heat from that buzzing Spark Mage phantom intensified. Kirk could feel its warmth on his left cheek and neck. And the burning sensation spread across his skin. He shifted through the gap between the steaming boulders. Compared to the spark, the heat from the steaming boulders was mild.

"Life is dice." The mustachioed man sniffed.

"We bet and throw, but not even the dice know the outcome. We were attacked by a geo-4. Even as a Tier II Archetype, on the verge, what could I do but flee?"

"The verge? Heh. Mr. Gaudy bicep- grhk!" Maett's voice was strangled off.

"I wear the armor of a Tier III." The mustachioed man snapped.

"How would that be possible, if not for an overwhelming amount of accumulation?" That finally poured cold water across Kirk. The mustachioed man wore armor made for Tier III? What did that mean? A soft tap on the stone behind him was all the warning that Kirk had. The Beast hissed. He didn't know how they had crept so close without alerting his enhanced senses, but he could feel them tensing to pounce. Kirk released a long breath. Both moved simultaneously.

Whipping around, Kirk swung with the flat of the Larian Saber's blade in the tight space. The tip of the weapon screeched and spat sparks as it hit the boulder. The small illumination showed Kirk a stern and scarred face. The attacker's dagger smashed into the Larian Saber, causing him to take a half step back. But the momentum of the Larian Saber continued forward. That saber, so much lighter than the death of the porter, slashed at the man. The man barely raised his own weapon in time.

But even as he tried to parry, sheer weight hammered him. The slash drew a long gash up the assailant's arm. The Conduit's face warped in anger. Simultaneously, the Beast made some internal calculations. That attack had been successful, but the two strikes had made the difference in strength between the two of them very clear. This man had a bronze bracer on his arm, but he had been a Conduit for much longer than Kirk had. Scowling, the man stepped forward to demonstrate that power.

He reached forward with his free hand and tried to grab the back of the Larian Saber. Kirk's eyes glittered. He dropped the weapon. The Conduit's fingers closed on air, a half second too late.

"By the wound!" The man howled as the Saber fell and, with its prodigious density, sank halfway through his foot. Before the man could recover, Kirk pulled his harvesting dagger from his waist, stepped forward, and drove the short blade up through the bottom of the man's jaw and into his skull. Kirk's band buzzed twice in quick succession. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the life drain from the man's eyes. For a second he floundered, guilt washing through him.

Yet then his simmering resolve surged to the fore. No. You conspired to capture and torture others. Your fellow Conduits. If you violate the Code, you are a foe. To foes, only ferocity. For the second time in a handful of seconds, Kirk heard a sound behind him in the cramped fissure. He half twisted around, but he had been distracted. Before he could respond, he was smashed into the boulder next to him. He lost his grip on his knife, half-senseless.

By the time he came back to himself, he was being dragged forward, his arms limp. The rough man dragging him cursed.

"Baelz! This fucker cut Hob's throat before I even noticed what was going on." He threw Kirk forward onto the ground. Kirk wheezed, trying to catch his breath. His ribs burned, but nothing seemed broken. He blearily looked around. The space inside the boulders was pretty large, the size of a living room. Across the ground, the mustachioed man stood, his face darkening with fury as he looked at Kirk. He wore different armor than previously, pearly and glittering. And slightly oversized for his limbs.

But even to Kirk's addled senses, the armor pulsed with power. Nearby, Maett crouched on the ground. He had a collar around his neck, attached to a chain that led to Baelz hand. Zuri was slumped nearby, bound with rope and with an open cut across her forehead. She looked at Kirk with sad eyes.

"What a stale roll," Baelz muttered. Then he shrugged.

"Well, whatever. Killing one more doesn't matter- wait, shit. Is that-""Kirkland Albion." The man who had captured and dragged Kirk over now took a step back. He looked, almost in wonder at his own hands.

"I-I, we-. If word gets back to the Albion family-""You idiot! Bah. Ahem, Young Master Albion," Baelz coughed. His expression shifted to a shaky smile.

"It appears there has been a misunderstanding here." Kirk blinked. Baelz gestured sharply. In a few seconds, the man returned, bringing with him the Larian Saber, his harvesting knife, and the sac of geo cores. Kirk's senses gradually settled; in the frantic attack from the man, he hadn't even noticed that he had dropped them. When passing over the knife, Baelz's subordinate even used the hem of his undershirt to wipe his fellow's blood from the blade.

"We have water, don't we? Let's get that arm looked at," Baelz continued. Kirk sat across from the two uneasy men. Kirk poured liquid from their waterskin to clean the wound on his arm. As he did so, this duo had engaged in a hushed and rapid conversation away from him, as the two tried to figure out what to do. Kirk sat still and carefully gathered himself. His Bestial Senses gave him a pretty clear idea of their discussion.

The underling, perhaps because he had smashed Kirk around, was adamant that he had to be silenced. That response earned a string of curses from Baelz. Why draw the ire of the Albion Family over something like this? Kirk steadied his breathing. Beast, Spark Mage, and the Conduit that housed them all settled into alignment. His eyes fixed on the hollow beneath these two's jaws, waiting for his opportunity.