Chapter 10: Status and Poison
[Power corrupts slowly, invading weak points carefully and deliberately.]
~Simon~
Simon was struggling to understand, for the first time in years, the thought process of a drunk person. Before today, it was an introspection he had only performed once, on his 22nd birthday that comprised of small but powerful shots, different sparkling wines, and chocolate cake that ended up being the last straw.
Unlike before, however, the mind he was studying was not his own; he was, on a sudden whim, picking at the mind of his now-co-leader, who had just posited an incredibly wild theory.
“You think the tamper was a stepping stone in the dismantling of the barrier?” He asked, not in his best mindset. “If someone could access the barrier at any time, why would they take the risk of targeting it multiple times instead of destroying it completely?”
Simon may have been a bit tipsy, but his reason was still strong and sharp. “If we’re still under the impression that Ms. Écartés is the culprit, she could easily destroy the barrier and push the blame on some lower-level mage before killing them. What would be the point of a slow burn?”
He could tell Vincent was thinking hard about the presented issues, but Simon could easily tell his original thought process was still chugging ahead.
“If someone was weakening the barrier,” Vincent posited, “what is their end goal? To change the barrier recharge schedule, maybe by a few days? Maybe it was to set it up for a specific day, since the Moonslight Prism is coming up, and many mages think of the title of ‘Arc-mage’ as a prize.”
Simon paused for a moment. Vincent was thinking diligently about this, but at the same time, it was an unclear lead, and an unlikely point to make. If he still felt Warbelle was the culprit, it made less sense for her to warn them about the maz-beast, and more sense to target her goals before the big mage event started. If Warbelle was the cause of the tamper, they were still missing the ‘why’, ‘how’, and ‘what stopped her’.
“I’m hesitant to say I entirely trust Lady Écartés given the information,” Simon said, “but someone targeting the barrier to take the title of Arc-mage seems… overreaching.”
He faced back towards the cab stand, reluctant to continue the conversation. He was still a little upset about the accusation that Vincent had made about Sarujans, that they were “too friendly”. In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to process the suspicion that Vincent had, as the new co-leader of the squad, but something was causing him to linger on the anger in his body. It flared from his gut, and made his brain focus on all the wrong things. His body felt flushed, and it was getting difficult to breathe.
Gurp.
Before he knew it, Simon was on his knees, and felt everything in his stomach coming up. The drink from the bar, his breakfast, anything he had eaten, drunk, or swallowed – he felt it coming up quick as he retched onto the pathway.
Of all the times, Simon thought. This was not his proudest moment, and hopefully far from his most memorable. He felt hands on his back as he leaned over on the ground, trying as desperately as he could to prevent the bile from getting on his clothes.
It wasn’t just the alcohol that caused this, he knew. It was the year of nonstop work leading up to this moment, the seven months of training and study with Rinkyu, and the month of investigation for a state-wide criminal with a wavering team leader. It wasn’t intoxication or sickness that caused his breakdown.
It was stress. Stress of uncertainty, stress of busyness… Stress of failure.
Simon’s head pounded relentlessly as he recoiled from the sudden body failure. It hurt – unlike the pain from a wound, it was a nervous pain that radiated from his head and stomach, slowly creeping across his body.
He felt empty for a moment – empty in that he was showing weakness to his team too much. It was embarrassing, infuriating, dizzying, and depressing as he wiped his mouth with his sleeves. A blood vessel in his nose must have popped in his retching, as there were drops of blood falling to the ground and engulfing his sleeve.
I’m such a… I’m so…
There was a word that wasn’t connecting in his head. “Failure” wasn’t it, but it was close, while “idiot” had the right tone, but the wrong meaning.
“I’m such a fuck-up.”
He said it without really thinking, and his voice came out louder than he’d liked. He looked up and saw Vincent eyeing him – not with a look of pity or shame, as he was expecting, but with a hard stare searching his face for stability. It was a look that recognized and was intimately familiar with this situation.
“What does that make me, then?” Vincent asked. “I’ve been in low places myself, and you should know better than anyone that you and Rinny helped me through the most recent one.”
He helped Simon to his feet, and gripped his shoulder firmly. It almost felt to Simon like it was to make sure he didn’t fall over again.
“If you screw up, then let us – your teammates – help with the fallout. That’s basically what you told me, right?”
Simon struggled to keep eye contact with Vincent. If only he knew all of the things Simon was holding back, all of the memories and feelings he desperately wanted to express compared to what he did, Vincent might not be so quick to turn his words on him.
But Simon also knew that Vincent wouldn’t say these words without knowing what it meant. He seemed to have his own checkered past that he preferred to keep private. It was human nature to have skeletons in the closet, and it was natural for them to progress past those skeletons to grow as people…
…Simon was tired. His brain felt like it was hissing steam, and his body was close to being out of commission. Thinking more on the mess of matters he had to deal with would have to be dealt with later.
Simon took a few breaths and said, “I need rest.”
***
Simon found himself in a hazy, melted world – the colors were dull and wax-like, and the ground felt as soft as a cloud. Where was he? This unfamiliar world was impressively bleak, with no trees, no creatures, and no noticeable Essence. He looked around, walking around and searching for something. Anything.
The world became more solid as he wandered, and he saw something that disturbed him – a clear blood splatter covering what looked like a shortsword. His mind was racing, but his body moved sluggishly through this place. He peered further along this “path” that the blood left, and saw far ahead a man in red and black armor, neck-length unkempt hair, and a sword sheath on his belt. He held his right arm, which was bleeding heavily.
“Vincent!” he heard himself call out, somehow out of his body. He felt the rush of his body moving to reach the scene, but it seemed to stay distant from him no matter how much he moved. Another phrase came out of his mouth, but it was muffled and broken. He tripped trying to reach his friend, and felt coldness on his face and arms. He looked behind, hoping to see some distance from the blood – instead, he saw himself looking at the body of a young, blonde-haired girl with scars along her neckline. He heard Kozari’s voice call out to him, but the words themselves were inaudible.
He turned back around to see Vincent, now much closer to him, but leaning backwards against a wall, motionless. Simon reached out to touch him, but stopped almost instantly – his hands were now bones and sinew, deteriorated and bloody. He felt his pulse quicken as he tried desperately to process what was happening. Was this the Ten Hells? Was he dreaming? Why was he here?
***
Simon awoke in his bed three hours after his episode, thanks to an alarm on his phone. He hadn’t realized he’d passed out, and Vincent or Kozari must have carried him to his room from the streets. His head wasn’t pounding, but there was an ever-present discomfort that he couldn’t describe. He sat up and listened for a moment. Not moving, just… listening. There was the faint chatter of residents from outside his window, but the house itself was quiet.
Am I the only one here?
He listened for an additional minute or two before twisting off the bed with no sense of urgency (a welcome change from his normal schedule). He noticed that his shirt was different than the one he had put on this morning; one of the others (hopefully Vincent) must have put him in a clean shirt, bless him. Simon walked quietly to the downstairs main room, where no one was waiting. There was a dull silence as his slow gaze traveled across the room, where he saw a written note laying on the dining table.
Simon walked over to the note with caution, as though it would detonate if he moved the wrong way. It read:
“Sai-
Vince is going to the local Guild office for some research, and me and Zari are getting some ingredients since we’re almost out. One of us should be back by the time you get up, so please take it easy.-Rinny”
Simon glanced around, confirming he was, in fact, the only one here. They must have just left, he guessed. It would make sense to wait for them to come back and eat together, but he felt incredible embarrassment just thinking about how he broke down in front of them. He kept going over the conversation he would have with whoever came back first, but each scenario in his head was more discomforting than the last.
A walk. He found his internal thoughts all agreeing that taking a quick walk around the area would ease his anxiety facing the squad. A walk would loosen the knot of thoughts that covered his brain – it would not unravel it, but make it less messy. It was an escape – Vincent had his drinking and smoking, Rinkyu had her books, and Kozari had…
…Well in any case, each member had their ways of relaxing, and the one thing that Simon could do to relieve stress was strolling around Estric. Once or twice, he had meandered so long that he had found himself at the Old Tower two districts away. It was weird how his thoughts cleared and made sense of themselves when he simply wandered. So many stressors, so many memories… archived or sorted simply by walking.
Since it wasn’t his turn to cook dinner (nor did he have the energy), he exited the unit on a lone mission to quiet his mind. It was still daytime, nearing the evening but early enough that people were still present. Estric was essentially a residential district for the military families and college students willing to commute to the College, so many citizens took walks like Simon did to relax and enjoy the city.
He thought about Vincent’s idea more clearly now – the thought of weakening the barrier over time. He understood that doing this would indeed be a slow burn, but it was not too far gone, especially if they were looking at a mage other than Warbelle as the threat. The problem then was discovering a mage who had the capabilities of a high-level caster, as well as a soldier willing to risk their head helping them. For a moment, he thought back to the conversation that Liane and Warbelle had. Despite her jokes, Liane seemed like a good candidate for the tamper as a last-vote competitor in the Prism.
“But if Liane hasn’t practiced magic for upwards of even ten years, there’s no way she’s skilled enough to damage glyphs, let alone evade someone like Warbelle.”
Simon looked up to the sky – there were some dark clouds coming from the north, so maybe tomorrow would bring rain. Saruja wasn’t lacking in humidity thanks to the Mistea River, but it was still a desert that surrounded the city-state.
“Not to mention…”
Not to mention she wasn’t a Captain, and Barolo was a dedicated soldier hand-picked by the knight commander. None of the Harpwings would be able to escape Barolo’s careful eyes if they were involved in something this treacherous.
Who did that leave, then? A mage who could sneak into the Old Tower, with or without a soldier’s help, would have to be a visitor who had participated in past Moonslight Prisms, knew the layout of Saruja and its government buildings, and could get away before Warbelle found and killed or captured them. Simon wasn’t terribly familiar with spellcasters, within Saruja or otherwise, and this would be the first Prism he’d be watching since he was a child. Older spellcasters would probably be familiar to him, but younger participants were more likely to have new spells or better control.
Simon paused, realizing he had reached Turga – the poorly-nicknamed “High Slums”, or the central-west district between Estric and Wildwood. This housed the highest end of the lower-class and the lowest of the middle-class, as well as an expansive open-air market. He had unconsciously passed through the district gate and found himself on an unfamiliar street on the edge of town, some people here eyeing him cautiously. As he regained his surroundings, he reminded himself of the reason he wanted to create the Crush Squad.
“…A better place for Saruja’s citizens,” he heard himself whisper. It had always been clear in his mind, but for some reason recently, the goal seemed further and further away with every passing day. Finding the source of the tamper and the creator of the maz-beast were two important missions that could help Simon realize this goal, and the King was willing to put this much faith into him. So much had happened in just a few months, and although it was a rocky start, the additional help from Regnah, Rinkyu, Vincent, and Kozari got them to this point.
Something suddenly seemed off. The air became thicker, as if there was Essence pooling and pressing in the area. Simon only noticed in his deep thought because his breath became visible, and it was harder to breathe. He snapped to attention and glanced around – even without the ability to minutely track Essence, there was a clear flow of mana merging to a single spot further down the street, and an ethereal moaning sound filling the air.
“A Baael?!” Simon focused on the point where the energy was gathering and confirmed his concern; sure enough, there was a heavy Baelis presence that was beginning to form the shape of a creature.
“Everyone, move out of the area!” He waved his arms to the civilians nearby, some of which had also noticed the convergence of Essence. The people who couldn’t see it reacted to those who could and cleared the street quickly. It was now that he realized that he was lacking any sort of weapon, much to his chagrin – his lab coat at least had a defense pistol, but he hadn’t bothered to put it on before he left.
This may be a problem. He thought of some strategies to dodge it until a Guild warrior or soldier came to deal with this creature, but the nearest Guild office or guard post was at least ten minutes away. He would have to corral the Baael and evade its attacks in the meantime, which he knew wouldn’t be easy.
The Essence finally finished converging into a ball shape, then folded the space slowly into a more familiar shape. It was wide and tall; thick and furry; and grew a few short horns onto what would be the head. It wasn’t wispy and flickering like a normal Baael… no, this was more like a weaved mass of muscle and fur and bone. The form finalized, and Simon finally saw what he was dealing with – a two- to three-meter-tall bear/tiger-type Baael with protrusions on its arms, back, and head; dull red eyes, and an unfamiliar moaning coming from its mouth and stomach.
Simon readied himself to begin dodging, but paused. It wasn’t attacking him or any of the fleeing people. It was… looking around? It sniffed the air cautiously, like a normal bear would, and its movements weren’t much different from a regular mortal creature. It seemed wary of its surroundings, less like a demonic creature and more like… a timid, lost animal.
He slowly approached it, ready to dodge if it suddenly became aggressive. Its eyes were uncomfortably gentle; unlike the sharp crimson or voidish amethyst one would expect of a Baael, this one’s eyes showed a dull hum of maroon with clearly visible irises. This one was different; somehow, it was sapient. Sentient.
… Alive.
Its deep moaning slowed as Simon got closer. He felt a pulse of energy wash over the area – similar to the reactivation of the barrier glyph, though this felt more… sinister. Instead of Azras-Essence, it was Baelis, similar to when the Baael was converging, though it was more centered, focused.
The air crackled as the bear/tiger-type Baael roared in pain. A thin beam shot from the sky straight down onto it, causing its body to glow and fissure in dark lights. Simon jolted backwards, nearly tripping on a loose brick in the road. Within minutes of the creature appearing, it was now suffering from what seemed like forced evolution.
“Unfortunate that you would be here.”
An Inglish voice accompanied the transformation as the bear/tiger-type’s head turned to lock eyes with Simon. A gold ring encircled its eye now, and though the creature shuddered, the voice was carefully clear.
“Just another mess that needs to be cleaned up, I suppose.”
There was a beat of silence as the energies surrounding simply stopped. The ground beneath the Baael cracked, and the moaning became heart-wrenching screams – not roars or growls as a bear might make, but mortal screams, deep, painful screams akin to its limbs being chopped off.
“Please entertain me, Doctor. I would hate for this to be your magnum fatum.”
The voice was incredibly condescending, though it didn’t sound familiar – the distortion caused by all the mana flowing erratically around them was definitely the cause. Simon backed away slowly, watching the changes in the Baael. Its arms ripped apart to expose four long obsidian claws, reaching just under half a meter in length; and its head cracked and split to show a total of four unearthly sockets, which bled in Essence to fill four crimson eyes, all of which focused on Simon.
Simon picked up a loose brick and started backing away carefully. It’s a Rend Bear, he thought. It was a Prime Baael that generally made territories in the woody regions of Alhose, vying to lead packs of lesser bear- and tiger-types rather than hunting alone. It was dangerous enough to hunt with a group of trained soldiers or Guild warriors, but now he faced one. Alone with nothing but a brick.
The Baael quivered for a moment, then refocused on Simon – its eyes were now that of a violent demon. It bellowed a fear-inducing roar before falling onto all fours and rushing to attack the only human in sight.
Simon didn’t hesitate for even a moment. The monster lunged with a haste matching that of a harpwing wasp, and a strength just as deadly as its stinger. It tore its right arm through the air ahead of its body, Essence bleeding out of it in the shape of a giant razor-sharp claw. Simon dodged left, hoping its body didn’t have the dexterity to turn after such a forceful attack. As he moved, he aimed the brick at the Baael’s head and thrust it forward. The brick made a loud cracking noise against its… well, what would be a skull on a normal bear, and he rolled behind it as it recoiled.
Simon took a moment to calculate the damage he dealt. It didn’t seem at all injured, and reeled around almost as quickly as he regained his balance. There was death in its eyes now, blood-curdling rage that murdered Simon in a million ways if it could. Simon sighed, picking up another brick without breaking eye contact.
What do I do? Simon questioned his abilities against this creature, and his available options without a true weapon. He couldn’t do any real damage without an Essence weapon, and bricks would eventually stop distracting this beast, especially since it was a Prime.
Simon did have one idea, though against such a powerful enemy, he held some hesitation in enacting it. It was a technique he had learned was special for people like him – those who could not use Essence as spells, only able to engrave it through glyphs… or releasing large amounts of it at once in a burst of Essence. The effect was akin to detonation of internal and free-flowing Essence; Simon remembered clearly the two times in the past he had done it, and it hurt. It was a step below being ripped apart, but it was deftly effective on groups of weaker Baael.
Would it work on this one, a controlled Prime Baael that could overcome the barrier? Simon rushed through the pros and cons in his head as quickly as he could…
The moaning became a roar as the Baael barreled toward him once more. There was little time to think, and Simon’s reactive instinct hurled the second brick at its face once again. He jerked out of the way of the rending blade, barely avoiding a possibly-fatal hit, though tearing through the right of his shirt and scratching his abdomen. He rolled to his knees aside the creature, gripping his wound.
It’s now or never.
Simon focused his Essence with his eyes closed – for a brief moment, the air was still as mana crackled and popped in the space. The Rend Bear had taken to a position in front of him, standing at its full height in an intimidating posture. Simon could feel it readying to strike him down, but he remained steeled.
Its movements slowed as Simon entered a near-euphoric state – everything felt sharp, timeless; each half of a fraction of a moment feeling incredibly significant, and passing both instantaneously and for eternity.
He opened his eyes, unbelievably focused and calm, and the mana both in the air and within him sparked. There was a brief, loud, ear-shattering sound, and Simon’s whole world became the center of a star – infinitely bright, infinitely powerful, infinitely deafening.
***
Simon’s vision returned to normal, as he found himself cratered into the wall of a building; he was originally fighting in the middle of the street, so he flew at least five meters. His head was pounding, and his clothes were full of holes covered in blood.
He looked around carefully. He had done some amount of damage to the street, and the Baael…
Damn it.
The bear was reforming relatively quickly, even with the significant damage Simon had done luring it in close. Its right foreleg and much of its underside was now evaporating Essence, but the sinew-like structure that made up its body was regenerating into a new arm. The bear’s jaw was also damaged and reforming, to Simon’s frustration. All that Essence that he’d used was basically wasted.
The moaning grew louder as the beast regained its strength. Simon struggled to his feet once more, now completely out of ideas. If I had a signal flare, or a gun, or anything, I could alert the authorities quicker, but I have to wait for the citizens to report it. His mind was racing. How much longer?
As the bear rose to lunge again, Simon heard the fast footsteps of boots coming towards the scene, then the sheen of a blade cut through the air. A flash of dull orange-maroon covered the sight of the Baael, and the moaning stopped as its head slowly fell to the ground with a rush of wind and a deep howling sound. The blade that finished the fight flicked to the side before being sheathed, and the warrior turned to face Simon.
“Blondie, you okay?” the warrior asked. Her brown hair was rather unkempt and extended to the middle of her back, and her hazel eyes glared through Simon, as if her question was rhetorical. As if realizing too late the face she was making, she rubbed her cheek as she softened her look.
Simon hesitated in responding to her, in part due to her skill in taking out a Prime Baael, and in part due to her outfit – he was intimately familiar with the uniform of the Miral Primary Force, and though Miral was technically an ally, its civil war caused quite a bit of tension between them and Saruja.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he finally said. “I’m mostly fine. I’m more worried that a guest to the city may have been hurt.”
She took some offense to that statement, for whatever reason, as her eyes narrowed in anger. “I’m not a guest, I’m a temporary citizen.” She glanced back at the evaporating pile of Rend Bear before returning her stare to Simon. “Your Essence is almost completely gone, ajeossi. You should get to a potion seller or a medical area.”
“Thanks for the concern, but this isn’t the first time I’ve done this.” His legs were a little shaky, but he tried to maintain some grace in the presence of this powerful warrior. “My name’s Simon.”
“I’m Miel,” the warrior said. “After the county south…” She paused, then corrected, “…north of here.”
“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help you…”
Almost immediately, she pulled out a map from a strap hanging from her coat. “There’s a building I need to go to as soon as possible. I’ve been wandering around this accursed city for weeks now and can’t seem to find it.”
Simon adjusted his glasses – though they were now cracked, he could still see well enough – and looked at the marked spot on the map. The location seemed familiar, then he realized why.
“Oh, this is where we interview for the Crush Squad members.”
Miel grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him in close. “We? You are one of the hirers?”
Simon blinked. “Yes? I’m actually one of the founders, and a co-leader.”
The warrior searched his face for untruths and hidden meaning – Simon, however, looked on in confusion.
“Does your squadron have the ability to find people easily? Can they parlay meetings with the Lake Army?” Each pause in her voice increased the amount of concern and threat in her body as she encroached on Simon quickly. “I have a mission that I need to complete, and I was told the Saruja Task Force was the only team that could help me.”
She loosened her grip on his arm. “The more time I spend searching, the more likely she’ll be killed, raped, or enslaved.” She made a fist and hit the nearby wall – a fractured part fell to the ground behind them.
She refocused on Simon, who was dumbstruck at the flurry of emotions that this random warrior was parading. “I need your help to find her. Your group’s help, your city’s… I need to find her.”
Simon watched Miel carefully as she talked. In a way, she seemed like Vincent – deeply inside her own head, strong-willed, and a powerful desire to finish the job – whatever job she was trying to finish.
“I can get you into our squadron, but we’re still in the preliminary phase of our unit. We’ll interview you, test your skills, have you meet the team, and then we can appeal for an excursion out of Saruja.” He rubbed the back of his head where a bump had formed. “It’s not exactly a quick process, but we need to be sure that you are able and willing to work with the team.”
Miel scowled. She seemed… well, she seemed like she was in a hurry, to say the least. “How long will it take?” she asked.
Simon tried to clear his head. He was still recovering from the battle, but she dispatched it quickly and cleanly, with no damage. Honestly, it would be a huge benefit to the Crush Squad if she joined, just on her combat skill alone. Still, the team had a process, and every one of his members had gone through it.
“I can introduce you to the team, and see what the other co-leader thinks, but we’d still have to give you the tests we give to every other applicant.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She leaned in close again. “How. Long.”
Her intimidation was incredible. Simon stuttered as he tried to calculate the time.
“W-well, if I introduce you tonight, we’d still have to wait until Sunsday to give you the interview… but we’re in the middle of a mission, so we’d have to push it back a day… so, four days, five days max.”
Miel paused in thought for a moment, then scowled again. “Almost a whole week?” she snarled.
Simon wondered briefly of her circumstances; the reasons she had given for needing to join the squad were relatively vague, and her attitude seemed… abrasive at best.
“Is there an inn or something nearby your headquarters?” Miel had taken a bit to consider, but now snapped her attention back to Simon.
Simon nodded ardently. “There’s actually an inn only a block away from the interview location.”
He watched as she internally debated this course, apparently considering some pros and cons. After a few tens of seconds, she finally released him.
“I would like to expedite this process, so introduce me to your team.” She thought for another moment after saying this, and added, “Please.”
***
Simon often felt uncomfortable, usually around Captain Barolo or Knite-Siege. Military members always projected a powerful sense of order that was jagged in comparison to research partners or dedicated students, who projected kindness, respect, and camaraderie. Miel, with her demeanor and uniform, definitely fit more into the soldier category. She was short-tempered, a woman of few words, and seemed to be constantly angry.
Just before they could see the gate, two guards approached them, serious and hurried. They saw Simon’s wounds, shared a look, then the one on the right asked, “Is the Baael taken care of?”
Simon nodded. “We took care of it,” he said shakily. “Please report that a Rend Bear with a similar nature to last month’s special Baael appeared while the barrier was up, and tell them Simon Listrean will write up a full report for tomorrow.”
The two guards stared at the two for a moment, then each gave a dedicated nod. Simon’s condition probably looked worse than he felt – impressive, considering the excruciating pain, tightness in his joints, and what probably amounted to 400 milliliters of blood loss.
“If you come with us, we can get you to a healer to close up those wounds,” the one on the left said. “It would only…”
Miel cut off the guard. “We are actually in a hurry, so we’ll get fixed up later.” She pushed Simon through the gate, and the guards watched in silent confusion as they continued their trek.
Walking back to the Crush Squad unit seemed like more of a chore than his original adventure, in part because of the pain, and in part due to his new acquaintance’s lack of conversation. It was akin to talking with Rinkyu, but with an added glare each time he opened his mouth.
“Miel, you seem abrasive to opening up about yourself,” he said as they passed through the gate to Estric. “If you’re trying to join the Crush Squad, clarity and transparency are crucial.”
She whispered something in a language he didn’t understand. “Being transparent isn’t something I’m easily swayed into. I want to meet your team before I agree to get all… buddy-buddy with them.” She tilted her sheathed sword back and forth. “I’m on a mission, and I’m already way behind schedule.”
“Even so, trust is a two-way path.” Simon scratched his head where the bump had formed. “If you can’t trust your allies, how do you expect them to trust you? Treat this like extra credit for your interview with our leaders.”
Miel looked at him for a moment as he realized he used a teacher-style analogy.
“Oh, sorry, force of habit. Uh, treat it like positive points on your résumé before an interview.”
She seemed to take the suggestion to heart, as she fell into a state of deep thought. Simon took a minute to try and study her.
Her skin was dark, and her ears were small and pointed, directing him to guess her race as a Kura – a race that was incredibly dedicated and aggressive to enemies. Simon knew this only because the previous king and his son, Knite-Siege, were both Kura. The fact that she was wearing a Miral Primary Force uniform was unimpressive; Kura were native to Miral, and many held a dedication to the old values of the continent, which were enforced strongly by the Primary Force.
The fact that she was here in Alhose, alone no less, meant that she was wearing the uniform as nostalgia more than necessity; she probably wasn’t involved with their military currently, and her statement about needing to find “her” meant this was a personal mission. If her target was in Saruja, it was unlikely she’d need help from a Sarujan group, so joining the Crush Squad was likely a stepping stone to some allied country, likely within Alhose.
They arrived at the Crush Squad residence around ten minutes after they had fell into thought, as Simon realized his thinking had taken over his perception of time once again. He shook his head.
“We’ll have to wait for the rest of the team to come back, but it shouldn’t be too long of a wait.” He walked up to the door, and heard movement inside. “Or… not?”
The door flew open as he said this, missing him by a hair.
“I’ll look near the Central-West gate, you guys-”
Rinkyu pushed out of the door, running into Simon as she exited. She froze for a moment, looking both confused and erratic.
“Simon!” she exclaimed once she regained her focus. “Where were you?”
Kozari stood in the doorway, and Vincent was further in, dressed with his sword and gun.
“You look hurt,” Kozari said with concern. “What happened?”
Simon rubbed his head. How was he going to explain all of this? “I… uh…”
There was a schwing from behind Simon indicating a sword being drawn. All three of his teammate’s faces changed from worry to alertness, and Simon turned to see what happened. Miel had drawn her sword, pointing it into the unit with an unholy glare on her face. Simon followed the sword’s aim to Vincent, who was just as confused as Simon.
“Why in the rings of Hell is there a Baael here?”