Page 3208

He needed to calm down and reassess. The guards were all over the place. If he didn't stay vigilant, he'd bump into one of them, too.

It just didn't make sense. Were they employing invisible guardsmen, too? For what purpose, exactly? Or had that been someone else entirely? A third party?

An impossible coincidence, surely.

Raul narrowly avoided bumping into a guard, getting so unintentionally close that he caught a whiff of the guy's cologne.

He finally stopped walking to steady his breath and get his bearings.

He was near the center. He knew that much, at least. The row of cells in front of him were just sitting there, waiting for someone to open them. Rainlord reapers could be in any or all of them. What was this row number? Two? Yeah.

Thinking. Thinking.

According to the intel they'd gathered, two of their reapers should be here. At least two, that was. Wen, Lonogren, and Jostomere had not been logged, but they must have been in here somewhere. If not in row two, then they were probably in row one, down below.

With so many attentive eyes around, though, opening even just one of these cells was going to be difficult. It would also help if he had the keys, but he could probably make do without them.

Hmm. Yeah. As he inspected the sealed doors more closely, he found what he was looking for. Weak points. Not by conventional standards, maybe. But by his? Sure.

Those massive hinges with bolts on them? He could deal with those just fine. A bit of friction manipulation would probably allow him to just slide them right out of their slots like pulling hot dogs out of their packaging. And once the hinges were gone, the door could be cracked opened from the opposite side it was meant to. The lock would likely still prevent it from opening fully, but a crack was all a reaper would need.

That would draw a lot of attention, though. He needed to create a diversion first. But he also couldn't make it too distracting, or else it would alert the whole prison.

Something like a spill might suffice. Maybe a leaky pipe. He'd have to find a good--

"Watch it, fool!"

The sudden voice in Valgan cut through the low murmur of the guards like a knife, drawing his attention back in the direction he'd just come from.

"I didn't touch you! I swear!"

"Well, someone did! Who was it?! Fess up!"

Page 3207

The nearby footsteps stopped, and so did Raul. With the cloak of his Invisibility ring the only thing keeping him safe here, he couldn't help feeling the anxiety well up as his heart started beating faster. He hated having to wait out in the open. At any moment, it felt like one the guards might just suddenly be able to see him.

When the footsteps returned, he started moving again. He had been trying to make his way downward, to the center of Cell Block Y. That was where the guards were the most heavily concentrated, which in turn implied that their most important prisoners were there.

It was terrifying, to be sure, but he'd prepared for this. Talking with Donald Elias before the operation had helped. The old guy had a way of saying what people needed to hear, Raul thought.

"To successfully tackle a job like this, you need to get a handle on your mindset," Donald had told him. "It's fine to be scared. In fact, that'll help you. Fear will sharpen your senses. So if you feel it, don't suppress it. Lean into it. Use it to your advantage and heighten your concentration."

Yeah. More guards meant more footsteps. He didn't have to stop. He could just go. All he had to worry about was not bumping into anyone, which was simple enough. Some of these staircases were quite narrow, though, so--

He hit something. It nearly knocked him off balance, and he had to catch himself on the wooden handrail, which trembled under his sudden weight.

He scrambled for understanding. What had he hit? He was looking all around, but he was sure there hadn't been anything there. He hadn't been careless. He'd been hyper focused on every guard around. How could--?

Another Invisibility user?

The realization made his feet move. Away from the staircase. Into an early offshoot of cells, not quite at the bottom of the block.

This wasn't right. He knew there were other Rainlords using Invisibility rings, but they'd coordinated beforehand. None of them should have been here, right now.

That had been one of the problems with the rings that they'd learned about quite early on. Not being able to see each other while wearing them. They'd made a point of working around that.

So who the hell had that been, just now? He hadn't imagined it.

Page 3206

Plus, there was the very real possibility that the Vanguard had simply not handed over all of their Rainlord prisoners. Raul certainly hoped that everyone would be recovered from this venture, but he and many of the others were trying to temper their expectations. It was already a miracle that they had managed to find any of their kin at all, let alone this quickly. They didn't want to get their hopes up too much.

Apart from the Lord Elroy, perhaps. Raul wasn't sure what to make of that man's state of mind during all this.

In the end, they'd decided that they would eventually free every single reaper they could find, Rainlord or not. It would be too easy to miss someone if they didn't. But before they could reach that point, they needed to be picky. Retrieving the reapers was only going to get harder and harder as time went on, until a full scale battle broke out, so they wanted to exploit the element of surprise for as long as they could.

Thus far, the first reapers to be recovered had been the ones with servants of mid-level strength. Which was helpful, of course, but the real prizes were Wen, Lonogren, and Jostomere. They were the reapers of Octavia Redwater, Rayen Merlo, and Santos Zabat, respectively. Those were the three most powerful Rainlords among those who'd been captured, and it was no coincidence they were each the head of their House.

As far as Raul knew, that had always been the way of things, historically speaking. Rainlords led by strength. It was a relatively rare occurrence for the defacto strongest member of a House to not become the leader.

That was just one more reason why Cousin Melchor was so strange.

Raul had asked the man about it, once. About why he'd repeatedly refused to step into that role.

"Everyone has their place, but not many want to acknowledge it. Too often, people are either overly ambitious or totally insecure. I am neither. I know my worth, exactly. I know what I can do for this family, and I know what I cannot. My role shall always be only to support and advise."

Even after Ismael's passing, Melchor had again rejected the call.

And many within House Blackburn had not been happy about that. For his part, Raul just tried not to worry about it too much. If the great Cousin Melchor's role was only to support and advise, then Raul's role must've surely been to just do as he was told.

Page 3205

There'd been some skepticism at first about whether or not these "so-called monsters" were really that much of a threat. After all, what some random guardsmen considered to be monstrous was bound to be different from what Rainlords considered to be monstrous.

But they had been displeased to learn that there were indeed some quite infamous names stationed here, right now.

Niro Blatt was the one that Raul currently had eyes on as he proceeded down the corridor. The guy's cheekbones were sharp enough to cut with, and his beady gaze barely looked human as it passed over Raul's invisible form.

Blatt was mostly known for his habit of making grotesque examples out of his victims. Winning a battle was never enough for him, apparently. He had to put the losers on morbid display via crucifixion and flaying, only occasionally after they were already dead.

Not one to show mercy, in other words.

Raul wanted very much to take this opening and neutralize Blatt here and now. An ambush from behind--right to the neck--would probably do the trick.

But it was a gamble. And not just with his own life, either. If he somehow failed to kill the guy in an instant, then everything would go to hell immediately. Or if another guard rounded the corner at just the wrong time, the same could be said.

So he just watched as the murderous bastard passed him by.

Cell Block Y was absolutely massive. Stairs led up and down in a stadium-like formation, where in place of seats there were cells. Rows upon rows of cells. All tiny, no larger than dog kennels.

But they were all sealed tight. They had to be in order to hold reapers. Any opening would allow their massless bodies to squeeze through.

And with so many cells to choose from, the trouble was finding out where everyone had been placed.

That had been the first task of the infiltration team. They'd scoured the prison for intel regarding prisoner placement.

Thankfully, the wardens of this infernal place were quite good with their recordkeeping. It would've been very easy to get lazy with such things and not bother logging any names. The reapers themselves could also be quite stubborn about that, no doubt. If they gave their captors the silent treatment, then logging would become that much more difficult. And perhaps for that very reason, not everyone was accounted for in the logs they'd found.

Or at least, they hoped that was the reason.

Page 3204

According to the RPMP, the VMP used this place as not just a prison but also as either a reward or punishment for the rank-and-file within their own forces. Being given a temporary post here could be considered a reward, since it meant getting away from the frontline fighting and enjoying the incredible mountain vistas, clean air, and decent food.

But it could also be considered a punishment, because certain jobs within the prison were terrible beyond words. Namely, cleaning the sewage system. Not only was it filthy, but it attracted the infamous Vantalayan dung beetles, which were as big as a man's fist and made horrible hissing noises when agitated. Not to mention, they had a tendency to bite. Hard. And such wounds were likely to become infected, of course.

Raul had firsthand knowledge of that, because he'd scouted those godforsaken tunnels already. It was only a minor point of weakness for the prison. There were still plenty of guards down there, mixed in with or even doubled up as part of the cleaning crew. Plus, it was a maze down there. Too easy to get lost. Raul knew the route himself quite well by now, but if he had to guide someone else, that would make things much more complicated.

They hadn't yet gotten around to sneaking out non-combatants, though. There had been much debate about whether it was better to go for them first or save them for last. On the one hand, going for the warriors first would allow for those same warriors to then provide assistance with the operation. But on the other hand, if a fight broke out, the non-combatants might be in more danger if they remained stuck in the prison.

At which point, the fight would become even more complicated.

But ultimately, that was what they had decided to go for. They needed the manpower. And going for the civilians first wouldn't guarantee their safety, either. In fact, a fight might be even more likely to break out.

The real trick, however, was getting to the captive reapers. Logden Prison had a special cell block for them, and the security in that area was far and away the strongest. The most notable guardsmen were stationed there.

The only upside was that gathering intel on those guards was made a bit easier, primarily because the normal guards loved to gossip about them, about the "monsters of Cell Block Y."

Page 3203

There was essentially zero doubt in Raul's mind that it was only a matter of time until things went pear-shaped. That was why he was trying so hard to be careful. The more warriors they could free, the better off they would be once the inevitable battle came.

That was the gist of the plan they'd come up with, anyway.

Simply put, there were far too many guards for nobody to notice so many prisoners going missing. With over four hundred Rainlords needing to be freed and only a handful of Invisibility rings at their disposal, this was an enormous undertaking.

Thankfully, the warriors were actually a bit easier to free than the civilians, because the warriors were mostly just frozen heads. The guards weren't nearly as attentive toward the cold storage rooms compared to all the cells with living people in them.

From their intial scouting of the compound, they'd discovered that an apparent pencil pusher was the primary custodian of cold storage. It was a bespectacled, rail-thin man by the name of Arino. Twice a day, first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, Arino would make a round through each of the cold rooms, check on every frozen captive, and tick the corresponding name off a very long list.

Tedious didn't even begin to describe that man's job. He seemed perfectly content with it, though. Never complaining, always formal and polite toward his coworkers.

Arino wouldn't be the problem. It was the dozens upon dozens of guards around him that would be.

Many of them were servants. In fact, Raul suspected that literally all of them were, but they had no means of confirming that. It could've just been that their reapers were elsewhere, tending to other matters.

That was the trouble with servants. They could pass for civilians easily enough. Raul had taken advantage of that fact himself before, but it sure didn't feel good to be on the other side, becoming sick with paranoia as he wondered who among all these sons of bitches was the most dangerous.

They had very little in the way of intel on the personnel within Logden Prison. He'd hoped that the Ridgemark Private Military Police would be able to help with that, but apparently, Logden was a trouble spot even for them. Activity here was constant, with guards being swapped out all the time. This place was closely linked with the Vantalayan Military Police and its many war fronts.

Page 3202

'This is a really stupid thing to do, Roman.'

He couldn't really argue with that. 'Do you actually want me to stop?'

'...Yes. But I get it. Just promise me you'll try and be smart about your stupidity.'

'Heh. Uh, sure.' He wished he could feel as lighthearted about the situation as he did about this conversation. Banda was still shrinking from view. A couple more minutes like this, and Roman might not be able to see him at all, anymore.

'Hurry up, slowpoke.'

Talons wrapped around his torso, and Roman jolted forward, suddenly faster. The flesh on his face distorted as the wind screamed past him, and he was forced to either squint or shut his eyes completely.

He craned his neck up to try and get a look at Pauline, but it was difficult. He could see her wings, rigid and angled, not unlike those of a fighter jet as she carried him across the sky, higher and higher until they neared the clouds.

And soon, Roman realized that she was actually gaining on Banda. They were still keeping their distance, as she'd moved them much higher up, but it didn't seem like Banda was going to get away, now.

Damn. How fast was she going? It was hard to judge, but was this even faster than an airplane? It sure felt like it, but maybe that was just the enormous wind pressure playing tricks on him.

Either way, it was nice that he didn't have to concentrate so hard. He could just wait. And think about his next move.

Which maybe wasn't such a good thing, actually.

Because he had no idea what he was going to do.

-+-+-+-+-

For the tenth time today, Raul Blackburn crouch-walked down this long, stony corridor.

He kept pausing. Not out of hesitance or fear, but because he was being mindful of his footsteps. The acoustics throughout Logden Prison made it all but impossible to sneak around without making any noise. The brown-and-black floors were all concrete, as were many of the walls. Each footstep carried far and wide, and guards were everywhere, to boot.

So the trick, he'd decided, was to only move when others were moving--to mask his footsteps in those of the guards.

It had been working well so far. Progress was slow but steady. Thanks to this Invisibility ring, the operation to break out their captive brethren from this prison had not yet escalated into a fight.

Yet, being the key word there.

Page 3201

Roman wasn't about to back down, though. Not because of some evil fuck like this. He didn't care how terrifying the dude was. Hector needed his help.

Banda twitched and bulged again, sudden and violent, but this time he seemed to suppress it. And when his gaze came back to Roman, it was different. Less threatening, somehow.

Less sure.

What in the hell was happening? Was he seeing this wrong, or was Banda actually scared now? And if so, why?

The questions barely even formulated in Roman's mind before being cut off.

Because Banda bolted.

In the complete opposite direction, he started flying away at rocket speed, red smoke trailing behind him.

For the life of him, Roman couldn't understand. This fucking monster was fleeing?

The sheer shock of it made Roman slow to realize and respond. Whatever the reason for it, this was still absolutely horrible. The bastard had Hector in his clutches and was now getting away.

Roman gave chase. It made no sense, but he did.

'The fuck is going on up there?' came Voreese's voice. 'Where the hell are you going?'

'Bastard's running,' said Roman, trying to stay focused on the chase. The guy was damn fast. Even pushing for max speed, Banda was still pulling away from him.

'And you're actually following?' said Voreese. 'What exactly are you thinking you can accomplish?'

'...I don't know,' Roman admitted.

There arrived a long silence.

The sound of the wind roaring in his ears consumed his mind. Mostly because he didn't want to think too much, right now. He already knew how stupid this was. Thinking about it any deeper might just make him lose his nerve, which was something he desperately needed at the moment.

'...You can't win, Roman. That guy and the reinforcements that he's probably falling back to right now are out of our league.' Her usual haughty tone was nowhere to be found. Instead, she sounded soft and somber, as if she were trying to talk him away from the edge of a cliff.

'They sure are,' was all Roman had for her.

At that, Voreese needed another moment to respond. 'And you're going anyway, because it's Hector.'

'He already did the same for me.'

She gave a silent sigh. 'Yes, he did. But you must also know that he wouldn't want you to take this kind of risk for his sake. He would tell you to pull back. In fact, he DID tell you to pull back.'

'Yeah, well, if I always did what he wanted, I'd be his slave, not his friend.'

Page 3200

"What're you--?!" He didn't want to hurt her, but he also had to break free. Apparently, these bird feet of hers were pretty damn strong, so he had to put some oomph into it as he thrashed out of her grasp. One of the talons slashed his left arm open in the process, but at least he was flying under his own power again.

'Listen to me!' she yelled. 'Your mind will be shredded from this plane of existence if you go back there!'

Admittedly, that did make him stop and look at her. "What are you talking about?!"

'It's their auras!' she said, only slightly more calmly. 'They're overlapping. Banda's aura is trying to fully suppress Hector's. Like digesting him. But, uh, I guess it's not going too well for him, because the guy's own aura is on the verge of imploding.'

None of that made sense to Roman. "Is that good or bad?!"

'Both, maybe?! Mostly bad, though! If you try to get close again, you'll just get caught up in it whatever is about to happen to Banda. In fact, your aura added into the mix might even trigger his to implode! Which would kill all three of you! Or worse, probably!'

"You're not sounding very certain, right now!"

'Look, I don't know exactly what's happening, but I know auras aren't supposed to behave like this! I want to help, too, but we need to stay back until it's safe to approach!'

Roman just growled and looked back toward Banda. The guy was really thrashing up a storm, now.

And vomiting. A lot. And it was glowing, too. Bright orange. Was that Hector's iron? It dribbled out of Banda's mouth, then sputtered out for a second like a choking geyser, then went back to dribbling.

Banda clutched his stomach, which bulged and shrank in turns.

It seemed like a pretty good time to attack, Roman thought, but given everything the bird had just told him, he didn't want to risk it. But what if Banda just regained controll? Was that not a much bigger risk?

Agh.

Banda looked his way, and Roman froze up. A sudden chill went all the way down his spine as he locked eyes with the guy from afar.

Even at this distance, Roman could tell. This motherfucker was no joke. Roman had known that, but now he could feel it. Too much so, in fact. It wasn't so different from those few moments when he'd caught a glimpse of Leo in a bad mood. But this was much worse. This was a pure, constant stream of pressure. Not just some little spike of irritation.

This was hatred. Genuine. And not afraid of showing itself. Wanting to show itself, even.

Page 3199

The fight was still quite far away, though. It was definitely happening in the sky above the thin forest ahead, but with the naked eye, all Roman could make out was some specks zipping around and explosions going off.

And again, just rushing in there headfirst didn't seem like the wisest course of action.

'Can you tell who's winning?' thought Roman.

'Not really,' said Voreese privately. 'It's a mess up there. Hmm. Looks like Hector's being chased, though. Uhh. Oh, yeah. You should probably go--'

Roman never liked it when she suddenly cut herself off like that.

'He needs help!' she yelled, touching his arm briefly to invoke his undead strength. 'Go go go!'

It was time to stop hesitating, then.

Roman blasted away from the ground, cracking it with an instant thoom. He didn't hold himself back, going full speed straight away. His body could scarcely handle it as his bones creaked, muscles ached, and blood pooled in his feet. His passive soul defense wasn't quite up to par for this level of intensity, nor would it probably be for many years.

None of that mattered to him now, though. The only thing on his mind was getting to Hector in time.

'He just got eaten!' said Voreese. 'Swallowed whole! Get him out!'

What the fuck? Roman barely had time to process it, because he was already getting close enough to see for himself what was going on.

Not that it helped a whole lot.

There was the enemy. That crazy half-dinosaur looking motherfucker. But he looked even more fucked up than Roman expected.

The guy was twisting and turning over in the air, clutching his morphing head and letting out strained, agonized groans. And as if that wasn't confusing enough, he was shifting in and out between smoke, too. Dinosaur, then man, then smoke, then two at once--or all three, even.

It took Roman a second to regather his wits. He still had some distance left, and it looked like the guy was too busy with whatever existential crisis he was going through in order to notice him.

Lucky. Roman wasn't about to complain. He raised a hand to launch an attack, but another telepathic voice arrived first. One he'd heard before.

'Stop!' said Pauline Gaolanet. And her giant avian form melted out of the air next to him as her talons wrapped around his torso. 'You're too close!' She carried him back the way he'd just come, fast as an airplane.

Page 3198

He'd already wasted enough time. Before the thought was even fully crystalized in his mind, Roman found himself moving for the exit.

"Mr. Fullister, what are you doing?" said Joana Cortes. "Lord Goffe told us to wait. We should trust his judgment, I think."

Roman turned to look at her. There was no doubt in her expression. No uncertainty. Just stern disapproval.

He didn't want to risk getting into an argument and so decided to fib a bit here. "I'm just going to check on things. If I'm not back in five minutes, please do as Hector said and bury the entrance."

She still looked ready to tell him off, but she merely gave him an admissive nod.

Huh.

Well, in fairness, that did seem to be the resting face of all these Rainlords. Maybe he'd read her expression wrong.

He decided to hand Garovel's iron orb off to her, as well. The reaper was no doubt in a foul mood and would've preferred to come with him, but that wasn't the sort of risk that Roman wanted to take with someone else's reaper. Didn't feel right.

He proceeded outside, making sure to slide the hulking stone doors shut behind him.

Unfortunately, he realized a bit too late that Voreese had come with him. He gave her a disapproving look but said nothing more. This wasn't the time. And besides, her senses would probably be helpful here.

Because what the hell was even going on out here?

He could hear distant explosions, like an intermittent stream of fireworks, and he could feel the very air trembling now and then, too.

Voreese pointed him in the right direction with her little ethereal wing.

Roman started moving, but he didn't want to rush in headfirst. The goal here was to be helpful, not cause Hector problems by getting in the way. So he made use of the giant iron "decoy" castle that Hector had been working on in order stay out of the sight, following the labyrinthine walls in the direction that Voreese showed him.

It took longer than expected. Hector sure made this thing elaborate. And to think it wasn't even finished. Roman could've just hopped over the walls, but he was trying to be careful.

By the time he made it to the exit, he could feel the vibrations in the air more strongly than ever.

Due to the nature of his power, Roman had become a bit more sensitive to such things. He almost didn't need Voreese to guide him, now that he was thinking about it. The sound and vibrations together gave him a relatively clear picture of where the shit was hitting the fan.

Page 3197 -- CCLXXII.

Hector found himself falling and scrambled to catch himself. The flight in his armor had faltered. Reorienting it took precious seconds that he didn't have.

Everything was off. His aim. His senses. His concentration.

His Focus.

And the raptors were closing in again. He'd only staggered for a moment, but that was more than they'd needed.

He tried to lash out, to throw anything he could their way, to buy himself time.

But the world shuddered again. Black. For what felt like even longer this time.

And then he was just tumbling downward. Plummeting. Had he taken another hit? Couldn't even tell. Two raptors were right there in his face.

He saw one of their massive jaws open up and stretch wide enough to swallow him whole. Rows of dagger-sized teeth lined its mouth, and a whirlwind was already sucking him in as Banda inhaled.

And Hector realized that it was too late. The fight was over.

He didn't accept it. He didn't give in. A million thoughts, emotions, and memories flashed through his mind, none of which he could hold onto, in part because he wanted to reject them. Right now, in this terrible instant, he wanted to reject everything.

Because he knew he'd lost.


Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-Two: 'The onlooking Blaze...'
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These days, there were a lot of things that didn't make sense to Roman Fullister. Particularly about Hector. In fact, he'd almost given up hope of ever feeling like he would have a true grasp of what was going on with that kid, anymore. The sudden leaps in power and influence? The changes in Hector's general disposition and apparent knowledge base? And the leadership he'd been exhibiting with all these Rainlords?

It was all an ever-expanding enigma.

But what exactly was happening here and now, Roman wondered? He'd done as Hector had told them and returned to the Entry Tower, but with every second that passed, Roman questioned himself and his situation more and more.

He did trust in Hector's judgment, but still... as he thought back to that moment when the young Lord Darksteel had told them what to do, Roman realized that he hadn't questioned Hector's words or decisions at all. Even Voreese wasn't putting up a stink while they waited in here, which was more than a little odd, to say the least.

As he looked over their small group another time, he came to the conclusion that this wasn't right. Even if Hector himself was right, this wasn't. Even if this was the smartest play right now--to wait for Abbas Saqqaf to show up--Roman couldn't just keep sitting in here while Hector was out there fighting, alone.

Page 3196

For a moment, everything was suddenly clearer. And slower again, too. But this time, his thoughts didn't feel so sluggish, as if he could step out of the chaos of the battle and assess the entire situation anew, utilizing all of the information being provided to and expended by the other four thought processes.

An extra, heightened layer of both awareness and decision-making combined into one: that is what this seemed to be.

He could think. He was still being overwhelmed, but he could think. What did he need here?

The fifth process could be freed up for another layer of counterattacking, too. But what would that accomplish? What manner of counterattack would help him here? Banda was swarming him.

No. He didn't need an extra attack. He just needed to make his current attacks more precise. He needed them to actually hit and get the raptors off his ass.

So that's what the fifth process went towards. Aiming.

A raptor's claw scraped his shield and gouged out of a chunk of his leg armor. A beam of pure heat followed immediately, barely bouncing off the shield and searing the tip of his helmet. He had to clench his eyes shut in the desperate hope that they wouldn't be burned out of his skull.

But he had a lock. With the Scarf and aura combined, he didn't need his eyes. Plus, it helped that the closest raptor was very close.

The molten cube hit dead center, and the clone exploded into smoke and dropped away from him. Hector didn't hesitate to follow up, either. A second cube, a third. Both already locked on to the second and third raptors.

They hit, though neither was as clean as the first. The second was caught in the raptor's side, tearing a chunk out and leaving a trail of crimson smoke behind, but the monster was still flying. Still chasing. And the third was even better off.

Because it had actually swallowed the cube.

Granted, that raptor didn't look like it was enjoying itself after its meal as it thrashed and vomited up glowing iron, but it still wasn't slowing its pursuit very much at all.

And there was also the fourth, of course. That one was farther back but catching up quickly now.

Hector was tempted to let loose another flurry of cubes again, but no. Precision was the key here. While it might've been a stretch to say that this strategy was truly working, it was definitely doing something. Keeping the bastards off him, at least. Giving him much needed space. He just had to--

The world shuddered. Every thought process flickered at once, blacking out his entire mind for a second.

Page 3195

He had to do something. That much was obvious.

But his mind was already being stretched beyond its limit as he tried to keep track of everything. That much was also obvious, just from instinct alone. It was this tenuous feeling in his head, like his own grip on himself--on his Focus, perhaps--was slipping. If he continued trying to push even further, would it all collapse? Would his Focus break apart? Lose track of everything? Or just destroy his mind entirely?

There was no way to know. But it was a terrifying sensation, as if he were standing at the cusp of a bridge that led into a wall of complete black. A veil into something wholly unknown or even unknowable.

Beyond here, there was no knowledge for, nor hope of, a capacity to return. If he took another step forward, anything could happen to him. He could be changed horrifically forever. He could simply disappear. Be swallowed whole by oblivion.

He didn't fear Banda. He didn't fear the battle. He certainly didn't fear death.

But he did fear this. Whatever it was.

In his head, everything seemed to slow to a crawl as he deliberated. Even his own thoughts felt sluggish, just barely faster than everything else going on around him.

Just barely enough to make a decision.

This fear. It seemed built-in. Part of the deal. He couldn't take that step without acknowledging it. Without accepting it. Ignoring it or trying not to feel it--those things were somehow out of the question.

And a million questions wanted to be asked at once.

Where did this bridge lead? Was this another form of emergence? Was this Focus? Domain? Both? Something else? The Candle's influence? Would he be changed? For the better? For the worse? Did it even matter? Did he have any choice at all?

But he didn't have the mind for any of these questions. Not enough space or awareness left. He only had enough to decide.

And of course he had to do it. The raptors were closing in, practically chomping at his heels. If this meant an opportunity to keep fighting, to protect Warrenhold and Atreya and everyone else, then he had to push onward.

He felt it begin to form. A fifth thread in his mind. A fifth thought process. The first for flight, the second for managing his senses, the third for counterattacking, the fourth for decision-making. And this was the fifth.

Page 3194

Hector took aim again while flying backwards. He used precious seconds to focus in on the next clone. More attacks flew in his direction, enough so that he had to change course. With the Scarf, he could just barely sense the deadly red clouds ahead and avoid them.

He loosed another molten cube, but this time he missed. It sailed right passed the intended clone, and he grit his teeth in frustration. He didn't get even a brief reprieve from Banda's assault. If anything, Banda went harder. More lasers, more explosions, more gas.

And more clones. There were four Bandas again.

That wasn't good for his morale. Now it felt like he wasn't even making progress. Like everything he'd done up to now was pointless.

He put it out of his mind, though. How he felt about that didn't matter. Only the fight did. Only protecting Warrenhold.

He could feel Banda's aura more strongly than ever now. Its anger. Its domineering pressure. Its hunger.

Banda didn't just want to win the fight. He wanted to break Hector's spirit. Or put a different way, he wanted his aura to win over Hector's aura.

It was like a thousand invisible hands, all trying to strangle him or hold him. Trying to will him into giving up before the fight was even done.

He'd felt this before. Multiple times, in fact, and not just from Banda. So it didn't bother him.

But it was also more intense than he'd ever felt it before, too. The heat of the battle made it so. Banda's aura was growing feverish. Uncontrolled.

Animalistic.

And before his very eyes, Hector could see that same feeling making itself into a reality. Banda's clones were each shifting more solidly into that chaotic form from earlier, that dinosaur-looking thing. Their movements were becoming more unpredictable, too, as if instinct was taking over.

They weren't thinking and planning, anymore. Not strategizing. Just reacting. Just pursuing. Just trying to satisfy their appetite.

Perhaps these developments could've been good for Hector. If Banda wasn't thinking, then surely it would be easier to outsmart him.

But this deep into the fight, when he was already struggling to not be swarmed and overwhelmed, this might've been the worst possible thing to happen.

Because Banda was getting faster. The clones--the literal raptors--were getting closer. Hector had at least been able to keep ahead of them before with his barely-controlled flying ability, but now that wasn't the case. He could already tell.

Sooner or later, they were going to catch him.

Page 3193

Even with soul-empowerment, the decoy armors probably hadn't worked for the same reason that the walls from earlier hadn't. Because Banda wasn't just using vision and soul sense in order to track him.

It was aura, almost certainly. The armors had soul power added to them but not aura, and Banda could sense the difference.

So if he wanted such a tactic to work, he'd have to start pressing his aura into his work, as well.

If only he knew how to do that. Or if it was even possible to begin with. Pauline would probably know.

Agh, they were getting close to the city. To civilians. He couldn't keep going this way with Banda hot on his heels.

He swooped right, gradual and curving, aiming to turn back toward Warrenhold.

Red smoke began to materialize ahead of him in large pockets. They were simple enough to avoid, but they were getting closer each time. Hector understood. Banda was trying to predict where he would be and materialize a deadly cloud right on top of him.

He had to mix up his movements, then. Be unpredictable. Flying in a straight line wasn't smart, but zigzagging everywhere also meant that the four clones chasing after him could catch up more easily. If they just flew straight, they'd have less distance to travel, comparatively.

Not good. His own chaotic movements made it even harder for him to aim his counterattacks. And he very much needed to be more precise with those, not less. It seemed like Banda was barely hindered by the flurry of molten cubes.

Time to change it up, then. No more flurry. Just concentrate and aim. The Amir-10 was mostly regenerated now, so he could take this risk. The closest clone was the best target.

Hector focused. Zeroed in on what the Scarf and Banda's aura were telling him.

The laser beams, exploding javelins, and angry red clouds grew suddenly more furious during the few seconds he eased up on his counterattack. Hector had to spin around and fly backwards so that he could protect himself with the Amir-10.

But he had it. The clone was clear.

He loosed a molten cube right at it, as fast he could make it fly.

It clobbered the clone through the torso. Smoke and fire exploded on impact.

That looked good, but Hector didn't get the opportunity to assess the aftermath, because there were still three more clones to go. He focused on the next closest target as he readied another cube.

But the clones were changing up their tactics now, too. Serpentine movements. Making it harder to aim.

So they were wary of eating another attack like the last one, then. That was good, but this sure wasn't. Damn clones were weaving into each other's flight paths, trying to disorient him even more.

Page 3192

As he flew through the trees, he materialized a second copy of his own armor and dumped it behind him, making sure to empower it with his soul. It was just a rough decoy, not at all intricate or accurate, but it didn't need to impress. It only needed to distract. Even if for a split second, that would be enough. Because he intended to make more.

Making them move probably would've helped, but that felt like too much. His attention was already so divided, and he hadn't devoted any serious practice time to armored puppetry. And he didn't have time to mull it over now, either. The decisions were just flying. He had to trust his gut.

He dropped off more rough lumps of armor, all vaguely Hector-shaped, and kept going. The majority of his attention had to remain on the Bandas. Four of them. Still pursuing. Farther behind, sure, but not far enough for his liking.

And this forest wasn't that big, either. Gray Rock wasn't exactly known for its greenery.

Without warning, a massive bed of red spikes shot up from the ground, and Hector barely blocked it in time with the shield. Instead of being completely skewered, he was sent tumbling skyward, back above the canopy again.

Fuck. They were closing in again. All four at once. More attacks trying to smother him.

Still reeling, he didn't bother trying to stabilize again. He just launched himself in the opposite direction and loosed as many molten cubes behind him as he could. They were haphazard and inaccurate, but they just needed to provide some cover for him. To give Banda something to think about.

And he had plenty to spare. Even as he fired, he didn't stop loading new ones up.

These were bigger than the minigun-style bullets he'd shot earlier, but he wasn't trying to make them explode to disperse smoke. In that sense, at least, they were easier to process and churn out.

But something was wrong. Agh. Another laser had clipped his leg. Half of it was gone.

That wasn't the problem, though. That was just a nuisance. Another distraction. No, he had to concentrate. The real problem was that those decoy armors hadn't worked at all. Banda hadn't gotten distracted even a tiny bit.

Another background thought process tried to create itself and search for an answer, even as his mind was already pressed so hard between flight, counterattacking with bombardment, and managing all of his sensory input. Three entire thought processes, each operating with maximum urgency, was already pushing it. A fourth on top of all that, even at a lower intensity, was definitely beyond his limit.

But he needed that answer.

And thankfully, it didn't take him long to realize.

Page 3191

Hector struggled to stabilize. No time to think. Three Bandas were coming for him, he knew. Where were they all? He could still sense two but not the third.

He couldn't dwell on it. Had to act. If they were solid enough for him to sense this clearly, they would be more vulnerable to bombardment. He loaded up more cubes in his mind as twin assaults of lasers and exploding javelins pressed him down closer to the ground. He needed to keep track of his altitude on top of everything else.

More processing. More thinking. More concentration.

Ah. There was the third. Circling around to flank him. Not as solid as the other two. Much smokier. Harder to sense that way. Smart. Hector almost hadn't--

Oh shit, there was a fourth on the other side.

He needed distance. Speed. Couldn't let himself get surrounded. Even a few extra seconds would be useful for the Amir-10 to repair itself.

"Sagir!" said Hector.

And the Amir-10 shrunk back down to its usual size. The holes in it were now smaller as well. The regenerating factor was supposed to be faster than the Amir-9 version, and Hector had no doubt that it was, but goddamn if it didn't still feel like a lifetime was transpiring in the middle of this fight.

Hector swerved out of the way of another slew of lasers, one of which he caught with the shield, making it bounce off and hit into the thin canopy of trees below. One of the poor trees took the full force of it and burst apart, setting the others around it aflame as splintered wood splashed up toward Hector.

A thought struck him, and he didn't hesitate. He dove down lower, into the trees. They wouldn't provide much cover, but some was still better than none. And the forest wasn't too dense. Even going as fast as he was, he didn't worry about crashing.

He wanted to press his sensory advantage--assuming he did indeed have one. If trees made it even slightly more difficult for Banda to keep track of him with his aura sense or whatever the fuck he was using, then that would be enough.

Aha, and the Banda clones were lagging behind now. Not losing track of him, necessarily, but definitely a bit slower to follow.

And he was getting another idea now.

Clones, huh?

Hector couldn't match that trick, but maybe he could pull off a bootleg version.

Page 3190

The next shift came suddenly enough that Hector barely had time to sense it. Through all the smoke and chaos and ear-splitting explosions, the change in Banda Toro's aura was almost lost on him.

No more curiosity. Just anger. But in a professional way, somehow. Respectfully furious, perhaps.

The next flurry of attacks were nothing like the last ones. They came from all sides, multiples jaws and slashing claws flying at him at once. And too fast. No way to get out unscathed, even as Hector saw them coming a split second before.

"Kabura!" said Hector.

The Amir-10 responded. In an instant, it was as tall as he was and wider. It completely covered his left side as he flung himself out of the coming onslaught's path.

But it was also thinner now, too. Multiple claws dug into it, leaving streaks and poking holes large enough to see through. It did its job, though. For his left side, at least.

His right side took all the slashing and tearing with nothing more than his iron armor for protection. The Raptor's fangs tore through that like tissue and drew a geyser of blood out of Hector.

A long, streaking trail of red followed Hector as he pushed himself to fly faster, but it wasn't just smoke this time. The blood wasn't stopping, he saw. A third of his torso was missing, and his right arm was shredded and twitching.

He still had feeling in it, though. Boy, did he still have feeling in it. He probably would've screamed in agony if he wasn't concentrating so hard on not getting killed.

Because Banda was pursuing. Another heat laser came for him. He sensed it in time to block it with the shield, but the Amir-10 was still thinner and needed time to regenerate. Fire poured through the holes, widening some of them and melting chunks of his armor.

He kept flying, just focusing on not getting disoriented. He'd been forced to let up his attack in order to get away, but he still knew where Banda was. The Scarf and aura together made it obvious. Plus, Banda wasn't as smoky as before. The guy had solidified more of himself, which thankfully made it easier to--

There were three of him now.

Hector sensed it just as a cluster of red spears flew toward him. He managed to avoid them, but they exploded and sent him veering off his intended course.

Page 3189

He'd already "loaded" up an onslaught of orbiting cubes in his mind for this. All tiny, no bigger than golf balls. All icy to the core. All soul-empowered.

From behind his shield, Hector thrusted his gauntleted hand toward the perceived center of Banda's smoke, and the barrage of frozen iron bullets flew forth as if they were being shot out of a minigun with the trigger taped down. Sustained, not stopping.

They pierced the smoke with no trouble, but of course that wasn't the goal. The molten coatings that made the bullets start exploding was.

Frankly, he knew he didn't have enough control to add coatings to every single bullet that he fired. They were way too many moving way too fast. But that was okay. He just needed to get most of them. And the gushing heat from the new iron would cause other, nearby bullets to explode anyway, even without coatings of their own.

And he didn't hold the power back at all. The bullets were as cold as he could possibly make them, and the coatings were as hot as he could possibly make them. The explosions might not have been huge like Melchor's against Xuan had been, but they didn't let up and piled on top of each other.

The result, therefore, was a continuous stream of white-hot fireworks tearing through Banda's red smoke and dispersing it with ease. Hector whipped the stream to and fro as he flew, cutting huge swaths through the smoke even as it slowed its pursuit of him.

He saw no reason to let up. He just kept going, trying to disperse as much of it as he could as quickly as he could.

Steam and black smoke mixed with the red, creating havoc in the storm and rendering it utterly impossible for Hector to tell where Banda's "center" was any longer.

He wasn't about to stop and try to reassess, though. The constant stream of explosions was certainly taxing on his mind, requiring two entire thought processes, but that didn't matter. As long as he could still see red, the bullets weren't going to stop flying.

He couldn't even tell if it was really working, but that didn't matter, either. Not yet, anyway. Because if it was working, he might not get a second chance to take Banda by surprise as he suspected that he had. He needed to go all the way here, providing no breathing room for this son of a bitch.

Page 3188

Banda was telegraphing everything--and not just with his movements. His aura, his intent, they made it clear as day.

The attack was coming from his right this time. He moved out the way with more time to spare than usual. The next cluster of long, red claws came faster, but Hector avoided those, too. With a second or two to spare, even.

Which felt like a lifetime in the middle of this fight.

Good. Great, even.

But this wasn't what he needed. He'd already been able to sense Banda's movements well enough with the Scarf and his own two eyes. This added an extra layer to things, sure--gave him some breathing room--but what he really needed was to find that point of vulnerability that Melchor mentioned.

If souls gave that information away, then aura probably could, too. Souls were a component of aura, after all.

He just had to concentrate. To look. To feel.

Melchor's attack had pierced Xuan's smoke at the center. Hector was looking as hard as he could, but he couldn't see, feel, or otherwise sense anything special at the center of Banda's smoke. Hell, it was hard enough to even tell where the center was most of the time. The way Banda's form shifted constantly in its pursuit. How was he even supposed to--

No, wait.

A glimpse. A glimmer. Hector thought he saw it. For a split second amid the chaos, just before taking another huge laser beam with the Amir-10, he thought that maybe it was there. As thousands of sparks and gushing flames jumped off his shield, Hector waited for another chance to see.

Yeah.

The fire dissipated around him. Banda was coming from the left, as subtle as a train, and Hector propelled himself out of the way. By now, he could feel multiple broken bones throughout his body from all this "flight." It was more like flinging himself through the air than actually flying, but that didn't matter. It was the furthest thing from his mind, right now.

Because he saw the center. The point around which all of Banda's smoke shifted and morphed. It wasn't always the actual center. That was the tricky thing about it.

It seemed to Hector that Banda's smoke was like a rubber band, and the center--the mind, perhaps--was like a nail around which the rubber band stretched and spun itself. At times, the nail was the farthest edge; at others, it was the closest part of the smoke to him.

In fact, it was coming closer more often than not.

Which made sense, Hector realized. Because Banda wanted him to do something. Dared him to.

So he did.

Page 3187

Zeff had gone on to lecture him about the importance of being able to intelligently evaluate one's opponent and determine whether victory or escape was the appropriate course of action. Which had been a very wise and important thing to bring up, of course.

If Zeff were able to read Hector's thoughts right now, the man probably would've been very disappointed in him.

Because escape wasn't even a consideration.

This was Warrenhold. It wasn't a place that you needed to escape from. It was a place you could escape to.

And there were dozens of non-combatants down there. They needed to be protected.

And right now, the so-called Lord Darksteel needed to come through for them.

In his mind, none of these thoughts were fully formed or articulated. They were just gut feelings at best, underlining every racing thought that passed through his head as he narrowly dodged or blocked every devastating blow from Banda Toro.

Hector knew that he needed to come up with something. And this aura shit was so overwhelming. As the fight drew out, he could feel it all the more intensely. In his mind. In his body. Everywhere.

Consuming everything around him. A suffocating and invigorating blanket.

It was a contradiction unto itself. Like struggling ferociously against an angry sea, yet also being able to breathe the very waters of that same sea, taking strength from the crashing waves even as they tried to batter him into pieces.

And in a different way, it was also familiar. When he'd talked to Rasalased and when he'd gone into the Candle--those experiences were both similar to this, albeit not entirely.

This felt more like a blend of those times with how he normally felt.

Like things were only half real, right now. Like reality itself was questionable but still present. Asleep and awake at the same time.

And Hector searched.

He didn't know for what. A solution to all his problems? Or to just this fight? For something helpful, at least.

There was definitely something here. In the middle of this fury. This storm. He could sense so many fleeting things. There was a fireworks show beneath everything else. A storm beneath the storm. It was there.

He just couldn't. Quite. Touch it.

But maybe he could see it. Just. Barely. In a way.

Banda's intent was part of it. The man's aura wasn't trying to hide that at all. If anything, it was like it wanted to be seen. To be acknowledged.

To be challenged. Yes, of course it did.

Page 3186

This was not a test he was prepared for. He'd known that when he decided to fly up here. But there was even more to the insanity of the situation than just that.

Because he already had a rather strong idea of how outclassed he was here. Thanks to Melchor Blackburn and the late Xuan Sebolt. And also Zeff, later on.

Hector had already witnessed a powerful smoke-based warrior in action once before. He'd had quite the front row seat, in fact. Xuan's fight with Melchor at the Blackburn fortress known as Marshrock had certainly been something to behold. And when Melchor gained the upper hand, Hector had been the one to carry and protect Xuan from him in order to give Xuan much needed time to recover.

That was the first time Hector had seen precisely how terrifying the gap in strength between servants could be. Melchor and Xuan were each one the deciding factor between victory and defeat for their side. Everything in that battle had revolved around them, around their clash.

And of course, in that fight Hector had further witnessed Xuan being nearly defeated by Melchor. So he knew now that smoke warriors could be defeated. They weren't simply invulnerable, thankfully.

How Melchor had done it, though, was the difficult part.

To Hector's eyes, the crippling blow from Melchor had appeared as essentially just a giant explosion. It pierced the smoke at its heart and then burst apart, dispersing it everywhere.

Not unlike the exploding javelins that Hector had been testing here. Just a lot more powerful.

However, Hector knew now that Melchor's technique on that occasion had involved more than making a really big boom.

Because he'd asked Melchor about it once, when the man happened to show up during one of his training sessions with Zeff.

"Ah, yeah, that was a pretty advanced little trick," Melchor had told him. "Smoke can be very troublesome to deal with. You can't just punch it. And if your opponent has enough control over the form, soul power won't do anything, either. Because they can manipulate their body around your attacks at will. So what you do is concentrate your soul power into a single attack and strike at the enemy's most vulnerable point with something that can disrupt their form. Such as an explosion. Because they can't warp their body around that kind of attack. It's omnidirectional."

But after he'd left, Zeff had more to add.

"First, you have to be able to sense soul power," the Lord Elroy had said. "Without that, you won't be able to tell where your opponent's most vulnerable point even is."

Page 3185

These attacks from Banda were certainly dangerous, but Hector couldn't help thinking there was something off about them, too. They were so straightforward. Not creative or sneaky at all. Banda wasn't throwing any feints at him or trying to distract him. The Raptor was just barreling headlong toward him like a rabid animal. Ferocious, perhaps, but mindless.

And yet, that didn't seem quite right, either. This feeling in his gut was telling Hector something else.

Banda wasn't mindless. That's what was so strange here.

Despite all appearances to the contrary, Banda was still in control of himself. Still thinking. Still rational.

Still testing him.

Banda wanted a clash. A direct conversation. For now, at least. He wasn't trying to kill him at any cost yet. He wanted to get to know Hector better, first.

This had to be the weirdest fucking thing that Hector had ever felt. He didn't even know if he should trust it. Reading his opponent's intent? Was this because of his own aura or Banda's? Perhaps all auras were like this.

Whatever the case, he had to come to a decision. He'd flown up here to have a "conversation" with Banda, but did this game of chase qualify as that? Were he and Banda learning about each other?

Somewhat. Definitely somewhat. Could Banda read his intent in the same way? Hector had a feeling that he could.

Which meant that the Raptor could perhaps sense his uncertainty. His hesitation. His struggle for solutions.

But not his fear.

No, not that. Because there was nothing to read. Hector was not afraid of this asshole. He was angry at him.

And learning more about Banda like this, about that calm mind beneath the storm of furious red...

It actually pissed Hector off more. Being able to sense that there was a real, thinking human being in there, that it wasn't just some crazed, psychotic animal devoid of all emotion and humanity fighting him right now--that made Hector begin to genuinely hate Banda.

Because Banda was choosing to do this. The Raptor of Kortan wasn't ruled by instinct and indulgence. Those things were there, of course--Hector could sense them, too. But the sentient control was stronger. Banda knew exactly was he was doing.

And to be honest, as much at it bothered him, things were probably better off this way. The apparent curiosity in Banda's aura was definitely making him hold back, which in turn was giving Hector time.

But Hector still had to answer. Banda was posing questions to him now.

Can you do anything to me? What are you really made of? How dangerous are you, Darksteel?

Hector could all but hear these things.

Page 3184

He cycled through all of his previous tactics and techniques, searching for anything that seemed useful. Nothing was really sticking in his mind, though. Bullets went right through the smoke. Coating didn't work on gases. Boxes were pointless. Walls would be torn through like tissue paper.

But they could still obstruct Banda's vision.

Maybe that would buy him some extra time to think, at least.

He went to work materializing giant slabs of iron between him and Banda. He made sure to soul-empower them as well, to aid with the blocking of reaper sight as well. It wouldn't be perfect for the latter unless he completely sealed himself in, which he obviously didn't want to do, but if it could just disorient Banda a little, then that would be enough. Hector just wanted to press the sensory advantage that the Scarf of Amordiin provided.

The chase grew even crazier. Hector had to be constantly aware of Banda's position relative to him and his own falling iron walls. He couldn't spare the time to worry about dematerializing them before they crashed down to the ground. They weren't directly over the decoy castle, so it should've been fine.

It didn't take Hector long to realize that these walls weren't doing much. Even his low expectations for them were not being met. The Raptor wasn't getting disoriented at all, even when Hector started trying to curve the walls to provide more cover for himself. Banda billowed and weaved around each one, only bothering to punch through on occasion.

And then Hector realized why.

Banda always saw the shortest path to Hector. Whether it meant breaking the wall or going around it, Banda knew.

He could sense Hector some other way, couldn't he? Through his aura, probably. Obscuring his vision didn't matter, did it?

Agh.

Hector's mind raced for another solution as Banda kept the chase up. Aura felt like his only hope now, but that might've just been because it was still so mysterious to him. That hope was created by uncertainty, not by any sort of clear plan or idea.

Shit. It was about all he had, though.

There was definitely more to this aura stuff. He knew that much, at least. It was the "product of his entire self." That was what Rasalased had said.

Which meant--wait a minute. That meant that emergence actually would help, didn't it? Because emergence affected his materialization, and his materialization affected his aura. So technically...

A man-sized claw came for him, and Hector only just slipped out of the way. The wind it left in its wake was enough to rattle his armor.

Page 3183

That was why he'd opened with those exploding javelins. As a proof of concept, they'd been successful. Explosive force could indeed displace the smoke. Now he needed to scale up the intensity. Would've certainly helped if he'd ever practiced this technique before, but oh well. Learning mid-combat was something he'd been doing since day one, it felt like.

Rather than trying to disperse the smoke with one big burst, he went with a flurry. More javelins. Dozens of them, flying all at once, followed by an immediate second and third wave.

Molten coatings for all of them as soon as they touched the smoke.

A stream of explosions, bursting the smoke apart in clusters, not unlike bubbles in boiling water.

It wasn't doing much, Hector saw. Banda was still plowing through it all, chasing after him relentlessly.

But it wasn't doing nothing, either. He followed up with fourth and fifth waves, and he could see the smoke dispersing more and more. Momentarily, he saw what he'd been waiting for.

A few whiffs of red, isolated from the rest of the smoke--and seemingly not of Banda's own volition this time.

Hector pounced on the opportunity, clapping thick iron orbs around the separated smoke.

This was how he'd defeated the worm in the Undercrust. Cutting it up into manageable chunks. Maybe Banda would--

No.

This was wrong, he realized. In the back of his mind, he could sense it with the Scarf. The volume of smoke wasn't like that of a worm. It was changing constantly, growing and shrinking as it pleased, whipping towards him, then slinking back to try to flank him.

Banda was in pan-rozum. Which meant he had access to materialization, too. His smoke couldn't run out until he reached his volume limit, which was probably gargantuan.

This wasn't going to work. Hector knew that much. Hell, the whole fight had obviously been hopeless from the start, but if he didn't think of something different to try, then Banda Toro was going to kill him soon.

And then everyone else, too.

And worse still, emergence wouldn't help. Even if he did achieve it again, what difference would it make? More powerful materialization wasn't the answer when he couldn't even touch this guy.

The problem was a fundamental one.

In background thought processes, while he concentrated on evading each deadly attack, these thoughts were stewing.

Page 3182

Hector barely got out of the way in time--and even that wasn't quite enough. The flame didn't actually touch him, but it still melted most of his breastplate. He could feel his chest burning as he rushed to annihilate and rematerialize the front plate.

His flight was chaotic. He didn't yet have the kind of well-practiced control that he needed to be fighting a battle in the sky like this. But he did have the power. The speed.

That would have to do.

He didn't hold back in his movements. Subtle and nuanced went out the window. When he needed to go right, he surged right. When he needed to go left, he burst left.

His body could barely take it. He could feel bones cracking with each explosive turn. He could feel blood pooling quickly to one side of his head and limbs before violently shifting to a different side. It would've certainly been enough to make him sick and disoriented to the point of delirium, if he hadn't been so focused.

On the fight. On Banda.

The Raptor's smoking form was so difficult to keep track of at this range. It moved so strangely and unpredictably. The Scarf of Amordiin helped, but not as much as usual. Air currents could pass right through Banda's body with only the faintest whiff of information being sent back to Hector's mind.

He had to pay closer attention than ever before. He couldn't let some little puff of red smoke sneak up on him, lest it turn suddenly into a blade through his helmet.

But it wasn't like all the other red smoke in front of him could just be ignored, either. Snapping maws and thrashing claws kept materializing from the smoke, lurching at him in a flurry of ceaseless attacks as the smoke billowed after him.

And the ranged attacks, too. Some of the mouths mixed in more beams of white fire, each one threatening to end him in an instant.

Hector had the Amir-10, though--the new version of Haqq's shield that Abbas had gifted him. The beams broke upon it like water upon rock, splashing out in all directions around him.

Still, this was far from an ideal situation. He had to hit back--and hard, too. As hard as possible.

But his most powerful technique would prove useless here, Hector felt. Orbiting cubes launched at high speeds would just pass right through Banda's smoke-based body. Soul-empowering them wouldn't matter, either, he was pretty sure.

Page 3181

"I need you all to stay here," said Hector. "If he makes it past me, retreat into the Entry Tower and bury the entrance as best you can."

"What're you--?"

"Abbas will be here soon," said Hector. "Just hold out until then."

'Hector, wait a--' Garovel tried to say.

Hector clapped an iron orb around the reaper. 'I'm really sorry,' he told him. He caught the orb with both hands and then tossed it over to Roman. "Take care of him for me, please."

More words were said in response. Some of them quite upset, from the sound of it. But Hector had already tuned them all out. Maybe that was a stupid thing to do. It was certainly rude, at least. But he had to. The auras demanded his full attention.

Banda Toro demanded it.

The man would not be dissuaded from this fight, Hector knew. He was coming for Darksteel, and nothing was going to get in his way.

In full armor, with his still-rather-haphazard ability to fly, Hector leapt away from the ground and soared up to meet him there in the sky.

For a moment, it crossed his mind that, perhaps, Banda would want to talk to him first. And Hector wouldn't have minded. It would've meant more time for Abbas to show up.

But no. That notion was destroyed as he grew closer to Banda's aura. The heat in it. The hostility and viciousness. It didn't want to talk. Not with words, anyway. It did want a dialogue, of sorts, yes. It wanted to know him through his actions.

And on some level, Hector could appreciate that. It was absolutely horrible for him, but he could appreciate it.

He decided to open with a volley of iron javelins. The first word of the conversation. It wouldn't do much, he knew, but he intended to put a little twist on it.

He made them icy cold, and when they pierced the red smoke of Banda's body, he added an instant molten coating to them. The sudden extreme temperature difference made them explode.

It wasn't doing any actual damage, Hector knew, but it was a way of testing the waters and dispersing some of the smoke. Pockets of Banda's red form burst apart, though not for long.

The return fire from Banda was far more deadly.

A giant, dagger-toothed maw formed out of the smoke, and from it, a white hot pillar of fire shot out like a laser beam.

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Even his own aura was not harmless. It wanted to respond to the heat and fury that he sensed from Banda. It wanted to influence his thoughts, to urge him into a direct fight with the Raptor of Kortan as a challenger to be met.

Which was absurd. They were not equals. Not in the least.

But there was something so moving in it. So motivating. And convincing, too.

Because if he ran, if he stalled, if he failed to meet Banda’s challenge head on, then Banda would know.

Everything would be laid bare. The aura would give it away. How true and feeble the deception had been all this time. And then Banda would really attack Warrenhold. That wicked red smoke would go down into the Entry Tower and search all throughout the fortress, learning its shape and its secrets, devouring any of the defenseless residents that it could find. Sure, they should've all been gathered in the Tower of Night by now, and yeah, maybe its nightrock walls would be able to offer some protection against such an infiltration, but still.

That was no guarantee. Not at all. That was a hope and a prayer, at best.

In many ways, this flash of a feeling was impossible to articulate. The auras made it so.

Instead, Hector merely felt that he needed to be more than even he himself thought he could be, right now. He needed to be the thing that Banda’s aura was searching for. Testing for.

He needed to be Darksteel.

There was no avoiding it. Banda Toro would know if he tried. And then, not long after, Bloodeye would know. So even if Banda left them alone, the next assault would come very swiftly--and be much, much worse than this.

At best, it would be a true siege. At worst, a total slaughter.

Yes. Hector felt certain of these things. Beyond certain, even. As if he had lived through such experiences before.

And so, to everyone else, it probably made little sense, what he was about to do. There was no opportunity to explain his thought process to them. Hell, even if there had been, he probably wouldn't have been able to. So he didn't try. He just turned back to the others behind him, to Roman Fullister and Joana Cortes.

Page 3179 -- CCLXXI.

Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-One: ‘Beware the Doormen...’
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Hector sensed a change immediately. He couldn’t tell why or how. It wasn’t his eyes that alerted him. Nor the Scarf. By all accounts, Banda was just sitting up there in the air, flapping his smoky wings and biding his time.

But there was something very off. Hector could just feel it in his mind and in his gut. Banda was suddenly different, somehow. Not in any visible way.

Was it aura? He might’ve asked Pauline if there’d been time for it.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t.

Up to now, Hector had been hoping against hope that the guy would just fucking leave already. It hadn’t looked likely at first, but with the way that Banda had been edging farther and farther away from Warrenhold, Hector had slowly been starting to believe that all these silly tricks and mind games might’ve actually been working on this monster. Slowly but surely, perhaps.

This new feeling changed all that. And when the Raptor of Kortan loosed such a thunderous, inhuman cry that the iron walls of the decoy castle shuddered, Hector knew for certain that he was right.

This fight was not yet done.

Banda surged back downward, an arrow-like cloud of smoke and flesh, coming straight toward him this time.

Hector still hadn’t revealed himself, but that probably didn’t matter at this point, did it? Banda could sense him, couldn’t he? There was something in the Raptor’s disposition or aura that made that so obvious.

Banda was coming for him. The intent might as well have been a shimmering blade for how apparent it was.

Alright.

The very thing that Hector had been trying to avoid this whole time was now happening. He couldn’t stop it, anymore.

So he had to face it. There was no choice.

A direct fight with an enemy that he was not at all a match for. An enemy that he stood no chance against, quite frankly.

There were other ideas in the back of his mind. Of course there were. He could try to buy time. Maybe Abbas would show up and save him. Word should have gotten to the Sunsmith by now, surely. It wasn’t impossible.

Hector wasn’t rejecting that plan totally. It sounded pretty great, honestly.

But there was something else at play, too. These auras, he supposed it was. His and Banda’s. They were throwing a wrench into everything. He didn’t understand them, but he knew they were affecting him. Threatening him. Trying to consume him.

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A real fight. Yes. Something proper and orderly. Yes. Intelligently conceived and thought-through. Yes. As Jercash would want, surely. Yes.

Yes...

No.

The Chaos in him burned. Rebelled.

Not the beings born of Chaos. Those had been quieted by Darksteel’s aura.

No. The Chaos within him. His half of the mind. The Chaos that had always been there, since his earliest days. Silent and furious. At the world. At, perhaps, even existence itself.

That part of him still had a say in things. As much as he wanted to be rational, to break the mold set by his many obnoxious contemporaries in Abolish, Banda Toro still had to face up to his own nature. The nameless judge within himself.

The divine font of the Void, some called it.

Wouldn’t it be a shame to flee now? Before even getting so much as a look at this Darksteel? Wouldn’t doing that actually empower Darksteel more, in some ways? His reputation? Wouldn’t it be contributing to his growing mystique as that of yet another bogeyman to Abolish?

Surely, they didn’t need another one of those.

That’s right. There were reasons to stay and fight. Fairly intelligent and rational ones, even. Yes. That was how the Chaos functioned. It might have been fueled by emotion primarily, but emotion was highly motivating to all sorts of ends, wasn’t it? Rationalization could certainly be one of those ends. Motivated thinking was still thinking.

Heh.

The Raptor of Kortan was a mess. A ferocious, distorted mess. But that, of course, came with the territory when accepting Chaos so literally into one's flesh. Lozaro had warned them all of this.

"Chaos takes no sides," he'd said. "Or rather, you might say, it takes all sides. It will work both for and against you, if you let it. It will twist your mind. Put you at war with yourself--even whilst it empowers you against your foes with abilities that even I am only beginning to understand. That is why you must will it into submission, first."

He was losing control here. That was what all these conflicting thoughts meant, Banda suddenly realized. It was not unlike pan-rozum in that way. He had to maintain focus. Control.

He had to eradicate indecision.

Yes.

That was a poison in this form.

Nothing for it, then. He could delay no longer. To fight or to flee? Which would it be?

He made his choice.