Sage: PINNED MESSAGE

DO NOT IGNORE - ORDERS - DO NOT IGNORE

DEFENSIVE SLAYERS - We are in dire need of defensive measures, especially if you can provide a barrier or a shield. Join the high-rankers on the front-lines

TELEPORTERS - We need teleporters of any and all kind to evacuate the casualties both in the back and front-lines. Locate a senior Slayer or officer and take orders.

BATTLEFIELD/ENEMY MANIPULATORS - We are in dire need of Slayers who can possibly burden the Comets, either through battlefield manipulation or direct manipulation. Join the high-rankers on the front-lines.

CONCEPTUAL USERS - If you believe you possess conceptual magic that can possibly counter Tewfik’s attacks, contact me (Sage) directly

HIGH LEVEL COMBATANTS - If you believe you can possibly deal grievous harm to the Comets, join the high-rankers on the front-lines

EVERYONE ELSE - FALL BACK. Find and rescue any wounded, and provide support to the front-line teams.

DO NOT USE THE PRIVATE CHANNEL - THE MODERATION PROGRAM IS CURRENTLY DOWN - Keep in constant communication through your own methods and directly notify me (Sage) of any major developments.

IF YOU ARE IN NEED OF AID - Use the Ping function on your Map, contact nearby Slayers using a Private Message, seek help from military personnel, or through other means!

REINFORCEMENTS ARE COMING - I REPEAT - REINFORCEMENTS ARE COMING

“I would love some teleporters right now!” Alexander yelled in frustration at no one in particular, ducking as a red beam blasted into the building to the left. Suddenly it jerked upwards, sputtering, and large, industrial wire-sized cables had wrapped around Pereyra’s true form—a bastardized satellite—and was thrown back.

He hoisted the injured junior up, who had a giant block of concrete fall on his head. They stumbled towards a secured side road. A couple of Slayers had erected a forcefield around the street, a blue-pink bubble, the colors swirling together like a marble cake.

Although shielders were needed on the front-lines, a few were ordered to stay back and provide security so, well, more people didn’t die.

Alexander stepped onto the cracked, uprooted asphalt that had a distinct sky blue hue.

[You have been enchanted with Fairyweight!]

Before he could ask what the hell that was, suddenly the junior wasn’t so heavy. That Alexander could lift him off his feet and carry him like a bride; in fact, his feet were swifter, and the ground had this delicate smoothness despite the damage.

Making use of this enchantment, Alexander easily supported the junior, breaking into a light sprint towards the forcefield where people like him were bringing in wounded.

“Here!” cried a Slayer wearing tactical armor, a special magic rifle magnetized to his back.

Alexander transferred the junior into the man’s arm. They gave each other a nod, as though saying Watch yourself, and departed to deal with their own things.

Fairyweight expired once he stepped off the enchanted ground, and bitterly he felt heavy again. Navigating through the smog, he made way to the lot where Systemic Works was stationed to, and where everyone else was at: Victor, Kaiya, Deon, Chunhua, Leona, Althea, Vernon, and Damien.

The artillery had taken out at least a quarter of Systemic Works right there. People that he knew. Talked with. Got to know. And these were acquaintances. For the B-Ranks? Fuck, their own classmates. Alexander shook his head, feeling an itch coming back to him. Hangzhou, death, Hangzhou—fixating on these thoughts wouldn’t help anyone.

In this line of work, things happened, often terrible things for the worst reasons. In Alexander’s experience, you could rarely control your emotions but you could always control what you did next.

One, two, three, four… he thought to himself. Ten quakes. Ten explosions and gusts. Screams and casualties. The world continued to spin, and he focused, and the memories of Hangzhou were pushed down for a little while.

As Sage dictated, rescuing the wounded was priority here, seeing as he didn’t have anything to contribute to the battle otherwise. However, that meant Team Luster and Professor Hei had to join the front-lines with their fellow high-rankers, leaving the recovery to everyone else.

In terms of progress, on both sides, things weren’t looking hot.

Reinforcements were coming in from the other boroughs: Vesper, Flares, Creekwood, Windvent, and within Dawns itself. Came in the form of high-rankers and military troops. Through the smoke, Alexander saw dark silhouettes levitating in the air, manning the perimeter of the battle formation.

Earlier, shortly after the System came back online, Sage relayed a direct order from Seraph: quarantine, quarantine, quarantine. The Comets could not escape the formation, because no one knew if it was possible to stop them again.

Sometimes one of these silhouettes flew into battle, quickly replaced by another who took their spot. Several blocks away—Alexander couldn’t tell how far due to current obstructions—several Slayer Teams had grouped together.

Tewfik was at the center of the street, having several different conjurations and constructs binding it. Chains attached to the buildings, a purple gravity well (or a pillar more specifically) forcing it to its knees, runes with high magnetism to hold its bladed arms in place.

No one dared to close in and assault the Comet face-to-face. Many had been apart of the initial group in Gallery, so surely they witnessed what’d happened to their allies. Instead they stayed back a fair distance as the artificers slammed down their portable weapons, rangers manning the roofs, mages focusing their spells, and the whole cavalcade of classes and specializations.

A rainbow of attacks poured onto Tewfik, looking and sounding like complete chaos. Some even mixed together creating unexpected reactions. Colors that Alexander had never seen before, effects that were unimaginable, each an individual phenomena that ought to be researched. Here though, it was used in war. In that war, Tewfik was pummeled and it cried—no, it laughed, seemingly enjoying the pain like some perverted masochist.

It started to stand. Every rune, every chain-link, every impediment was rendered a mild hindrance. It began to break through the restraints. Only two chain-lengths remained, large, enough to coil an eighteen-wheeler like a gargantuan anaconda, both connected to tall buildings.

Retreat! some Slayer called. Too late. A cancerous cloud of dust came, and the buildings collapsed on top of them. Anyone on the roofs were toppled, falling into the cracks or over the ledge; then came the ground forces. A few quick-thinkers stepped forward and casted forcefields to temporarily stop the collapse, the shields shining through obscurity.

One yelled at the others to fall back! Retreat!

They’d forgotten Tewfik was there.

The forcefields broke.

[EXPEDITION STATUS]

DECEASED: Hiccup

INCAPICTATED: Go-Getter

INCAPICTATED: High Roller

DECEASED: Lucky

DECEASED: Beach Body

INCAPICTATED: Fright

DECEASED: Protector

INCAPICTATED: Automatic

INCAPICTATED: Wilds

DECEASED: Rabid

That was a lot of names. Whether or not they dealt actual damage was the question, and that answer was “unlikely”.

He spotted Victor and Damien at the southern side of the lot, the former trying to hold down a woman wearing flowing dress that naturally emitted ruby and jade marble-sized lights. That same dress had been torn, half-shredded, revealing that her right leg had been blown off from the knee-down.

“Alex!” Victor cried spotting him, his voice small compared to the cacophony surrounding them.

Alexander rushed over, and the air grew to have a bitter, metallic taste alongside a toxic smell of acid. He coughed a few times as he knelt by the two men. Without hesitation he helped Victor hold the woman down as she kicked and screamed and ached.

“Sorry about this!” Damien said as a ball of fire levitated in his right palm. He pressed it against the leg, and she let out an odd sound between a cry and a hiss. She writhed, making Alexander force her leg down as Victor muttered words of encouragement—though they sounded more for himself.

“I think she’ll be fine.” Damien shut off the fire, looking at the wound. Various expressions marked him. Uncertain, doubtful, a hint of disgust, then acceptance. “Hopefully. I’m not a doctor.”

Victor lifted the woman, carried her. “I got this one! Go and help the rest!”

Alexander and Damien nodded.

To their left, Pereyra was seen hovering over the buildings. Even from this distance, Alexander could see its eyes dancing within each individual plates, twitching around as though hopped up on every drug in existence.

Ballistic missiles rose from the streets to intercept Pereyra, each one knocking it backwards. One after another and another, temporarily cascading the Comet in a thick puff of black smoke. It wasn’t a second after that red shone, and the System buzzed, alerting everyone that another round of death was coming.

A Slayer had thought ahead and managed to encase Pereyra in a quick soap bubble, like the ones you blew out of wands. But this one was clearly hard to the touch. Despite that, it did little to stop Pereyra from tearing through like paper. Next came automatic defenses. A collage of magic projectiles rose and created hot clouds with the crimson bolts they managed to hit.

Alexander remembered how these worked, back in Black Paladin Station. Pereyra controlled them to its will, in curves and odd angles and vectors. Some of the defenses were smart enough, either keeping up or exploding before contact, catching the bolts in the explosion. Despite innovations in magic and technology, it wasn’t perfect. Especially against a threat like this.

A handful, a quick count told him it was five or six that seeped through. The earth trembled exactly that amount. On the fourth, Alexander unluckily slipped on some trash, some plastic bag or something, fell to his knees. As Damien lifted him up, one of the shots struck the street across from them, making them both fall.

They stayed down, hearing ding after ding, instinctively cowering until it was obvious that it was safe to come out.

When they got up, Chunhua ran up alongside a guy wearing a tuxedo—this was about as absurd of a situation as you could get but Alexander stopped making sense of things a long time ago. “We need you both! Come, please!” she said, not bothering to wait for them as she hurried away.

Chunhua brought them to a half-collapsed building a block away from the lot, where several others were at, including Kaiya. Most of the group was comprised of juniors, Alexander noticed, with a few soldiers on standby with stretchers.

People were inside. A lot of people. Must’ve been a rendezvous point or something.

As Chunhua arrived, Kaiya nodded and quickly explained to everyone, “Timestopper here—” A young-looking steampunk guy waved, “—has a few time dilation bombs. I’m gonna lift the debris blocking the entrance as much as I can and we’re gonna toss ‘em in. They have a sixty second duration.” She motioned to the left side. “This side will retrieve the casualties inside and…” Then the right. “Bring them to the people on this side. Got it?”

A series of hums and nods came. Alexander and Damien were on the left.

“Great! Here goes nothing!” cheered Kaiya in frustration, turning to the building. A psychic aura enveloped her body and she lifted her hands. Debris and detritus began moving. Raising.

Kaiya’s eyes hectically darted back and forth. Alexander understood why: it wasn’t as simple as simply picking up a bunch of rocks. It was a puzzle. One that Kaiya had to improvise a solution, all while working quickly to not overuse her powers. Her mind had seemingly split off into several as different areas were gradually untangled, separated. Loose pieces of rebar made a makeshift net underneath the raised rubble, and lifted high.

“Now!” cried Timestopper. Him and a few others called out where they’d be throwing, and chucked time dilation bombs there. Blue, wavy bubbles crowded the “ceiling”, opening the entrance and ensuring nothing else would fall. For a little bit anyway.

Sixty seconds.

Everyone on the left dashed in. The first casualties up front were immediately picked up and taken to those on the right; Alexander ran past, stumbling as the ground hopped—Pereyra must have struck again.

It looked to be some sort of store. Alexander didn’t know; he only saw remnants of wooden shelves and put two-and-two together. Pebbles fell on his shoulders, and he searched.

There, an open hall near the left corner, which had a trail of blood leading inside. It was beyond the time dilation bubbles but somebody was there. A Slayer called out from behind—ten seconds had passed.

Alexander hurried. A soldier was there, bloody, having his helmet on his lap. Looked dazed from blood loss and possibly a hundred other afflictions in this shitshow. As Alexander stepped forward, crumbs poured onto him from above.

The ceiling collapsed, taking down a chunk of floorboard, foundation, and other nonsense. Thankfully not on the soldier himself, thank God. If Alexander had taken a step further, he’d been crushed too.

The ground shook again, further destabilizing the entire building. At the end of the hall another piece of ceiling went down. Fuck, this place was falling apart around them, and Alexander heard that the time was nearing the halfway mark.

“Fuck me…” he muttered and turned, finding Damien transferring a woman to a couple of Slayers.

One quick yell later and Damien met up.

“Wall the ceiling for me, okay?!” told Alexander before dashing recklessly inside the hall, jumping over the first pile.

Above, [Conjure - Mountains] was used to layer the ceiling with a sturdy line of rocks, giving enough security that Alexander wouldn’t be buried alive. That was the hope.

The wounded soldier got picked up, weakly wrestling with Alexander, probably mistaking him as the enemy. Another call was heard: less than twenty seconds? Fifteen? Either way everyone was running back.

But Damien waited.

Alexander gritted his teeth. Pain shot up his legs, the soreness he gained from his injuries during the tidal wave incident. But pain was a reminder that he was alive and fighting—the fire needed to survive no matter how weak or desperate.

He dashed down the hallway, hopping over the previous pile and emerged back into the main store, where most of the Slayers were rushing out. A hand was placed on his back, pushed him forward, and they ran like fucking hell.

They were one of the last to make it out before the bombs expired, and the store was buried again. With a second or two to spare looks like, cutting it a little too close for comfort.

Alexander loudly exhaled, purposefully ignoring how close he was from getting crushed alive. A few soldiers ran up, each saying different things but they got their wounded compatriot, bringing him onto a stretcher and rolling out.

“We’re alive! That’s something,” Damien said before coughing, banging his chest with a closed fist. “Are you okay?”

“Eh.” Alexander shrugged, looking around. “I’m not dead. That’s a plus.”

Kaiya was sitting on a curb, wolfing down a recovery potion or something while Chunhua stayed with her, concerned. She’d always been bad with stamina, sort of notorious for that. That was why napping was her favorite pastime. It’d been a result of being an esper. Esper abilities were some of the most energy-extensive systems out there, not to mention that Kaiya barely had any real rest since the Tormented Flesh.

Hopefully they can take care of themselves, thought Alexander—reluctant to leave the girls there but he had faith in their abilities. He needed to help. Scores of wounded were out there, perilously caught in the midst of the battle. Each of them pretty damn powerless to do anything but watch the Comets tear through Dawns.

Hell, Alexander felt like that. Just an E-Rank. A day or two ago, he was a civilian, a college student months away from graduation. What a ceremony this was, celebrated with artillery and magic. For everyone.

He pulled up the [Map], ignoring the hundreds of pings, to check the locations of the rest of his party. Still at the lot. Still alive, still healthy. Thank God. Time to head back then and coordinate their next moves. And if that meant pulling back, as Jury and Professor Hei wanted.

Distantly, Pereyra was tangling with Archknell, whose face was half-covered in blood, one eye shut (did he lose it?). He had a deathly serious scowl so intense that Alexander felt the energy from where his position. What was this called again? Killing intent? Bloodlust? It was the sort of thing high-rankers did when challenging one another, releasing incredible pressure by looks alone.

It’d bring most people down onto their knees.

Pereyra wasn't like most people. It wasn’t human at all. Just a grotesque, inhumane fuck no better than a rabid goblin. It cackled, undeterred, lobbed a red bolt at Archknell. A blister of strings shot out like a net, chomped on the projectile and consumed it. At the same time, four javelins wound outwards, each banging and bouncing off the Comet’s shell, scratching and making large dents in its plates.

Alexander saw it now: several were cracked, and a couple had visible holes where black glittery ichor oozed through.

We might win this, he cheered to himself until, on the way to the lot, a spew of dust instantly covered the street a block ahead. From the cloud, a pieced-together platinum statue shone, having busted through an entire building like a bull. On the defensive.

Lightning sparked through the rubble, turning almost everything into ash and preventing any further collateral damage—or that was what Alexander assumed. Because a familiar figure came afterwards, one enveloped in hot, boiling sparks.

Levin. She had her greatsword raised, spark-imbued, and she was more lightning than woman. Her eyes had transformed into electrifying blue orbs, her heavy-plated armor conducted currents, and her presence haphazardly caused bolts to fling from her body.

That was why Monarch had picked her to be the Vice Guild Master—she was one of the most fearsome warriors in Ordo. As expected from one of the most accomplished students of the Lightning Saint.

A single slash had brought down lightning that burned several times hotter than perhaps Magus’s best fire magic, zipping through Tewfik’s body so powerful that it got slammed into the ground, asphalt ripping outwards. Levin followed with a flurry so bright that Alexander looked away, avoiding any possible eye damage.

But then a red light came and Levin was suddenly snatched from the air, carried at the end of a bolt. The bolt's roar was hideous, screeching like a rabid animal. Flying towards Alexander’s and Damien’s direction. Levin flew by above them, crashed into an office about three blocks behind their current position.

In response, soldiers cried and rockets soared, halting the Comet’s advance. But for a moment. Only for a moment. The air ripped, and Alexander threw himself and Damien onto the ground as a vertical spray of wind and death tore through the center of the road.

A piece of shrapnel zipped by Alexander’s head, cut his cheek.

He swore and ducked behind the nearest cover, which happened to be a planter, forcing himself flat as much as he could.

[EXPEDITION STATUS]

DECEASED: Jove

DECEASED: Daemon

DECEASED: Djinn

DECEASED: Lovely

DECEASED: Aubergine

DECEASED: Trove

DECEASED: Opal

INCAPICTATED: Scarlet Sand

DECEASED: Homefield

“Shit, holy fuck!” cursed Alexander, not loving how close that was to death. Heavy smoke journeyed through the street behind him. People emerged in and out, many of them coughing like hell, affected by the cancerous air. The System didn’t say anything about a Forest Master or Uprise. The one consolation he could dwell on.

He came to his knees and searched for Damien, calling his name once, shrinking again once Slayers reengaged with Tewfik. A blast of gold light there, hard explosions, and blue lightning soared across the sky. Only high-rankers could get up so easily after being tossed into a building.

A groan came towards his left. Half-pained, half-annoyed.

“Again...?” muttered a familiar voice appearing into view, who palmed a ball of fire in his left hand—like the time with that woman earlier—and pressed it against his right arm. All without flinching, acting like this was an annoyance rather than a…

“Jesus Christ…” Alexander watched his friend casually cauterize the stump of what had used to be his right arm. Behind Damien, who seemed to have hid against a building, was a thin plate of metal. And where the rest of his arm was.

Damien, once certain that he wouldn’t readily die of blood loss, smiled and shook the flames out. He sighed, not an ounce of torment on his face, and noticed Alexander, staring wide-eyed. “There’s been a sudden complication.”

An explosion shook the street, but Alexander ignored that. “What the fuck.”

“I have a high pain tolerance,” he explained but that made no fucking sense. Luckily for him, this wasn’t the time to sit around and chat.

Having no other choice, Alexander decided to fuck everything and continued pursuing the original objective: regrouping with the rest of Slayer Team Alba, sprinting closely with Damien in case he’d suddenly collapse or go weak.

Tewfik was pushed back by an interlocking grid of rebar, condensed in psychic energy. Rend, an esper belonging to Martials. He maneuvered the metal around Tewfik’s limbs, around the joints, enough to restrict his arm movements so it couldn’t make a full swing. It struggled of course, the blades themselves sharp enough to cut through steel, making it a constant battle of swiftness.

All the while Slayers attacked from afar, again with the rainbow of magic and technology. Gashes were dealt, leaking cosmic blood, the same as Pereyra’s.

Pereyra zoomed in, jittering slightly, and fired lasers into the crowd, with a few homed especially for the esper. Then beautiful, dazzling lights curved throughout the air in gorgeous gemstone-colors: rubies and emeralds and moonstones and onyx, and more, intercepting the lasers.

A dark-skinned man appeared, standing on a levitating, circular platform with different-colored gemstones constantly rotating. He was wearing a rather luxurious robe, sewn with silk from exotic, outworldly creatures, and behind him was at least fifty additional stones. Professor Zahur Saad of Combative C1, whose honor was [Gemcraft Cycling Assimilation].

Gemcraft was a magick system often associated with alchemy. It used gems to store mana and compliment the inherent magical properties inside, whatever that may be. Upon use, a great spell was casted—more powerful than the Slayer themselves could cast—but it’d expend the stone upon use.

Professor Saad had, instead, borrowed a technique from the spiritualist’s assimilation process: fusing with a spiritual entity. The process was grueling according to him, as he used his own body as an experiment. In the end however, he managed to assimilate gemstones into his mana nervous system and manifest them with little issues. The spent stones would be refilled inside his body, then out it goes.

As a result, he possessed an arsenal of high-level spells that he could cycle through with little downtime, similarly to a ranger with projectile creation, where the alternative required either large amounts of gemstones (expensive and impractical) or waiting for them to recharge (for some, not all).

“Begone,” so said Professor Saad, and a halo of variegated colors rained brilliantly onto Pereyra: beams and salvos, blue fire and tempest winds, a kaleidoscope of spells that was said to be comparable to [First Magic].

Pereyra dropped square onto a building crushed by the magic, and the onslaught continued until all was dust and particles.

Alexander and Damien scattered, taking a detour around the site, arriving at the lot where it was just as chaotic as they’d left it. The juniors crowded here still with Deon giving orders; those shellshocked seemed to have evacuated already. Alexander couldn’t forget their faces. Lost, their mental states shattered.

Did he look like that when Mom and Dad died?

He swallowed that thought. Hangzhou, Hangzhou, stop thinking about Hangzhou.

Someone called for him several times, breaking Alexander from his thoughts about that city. To his right. It’d been the rest of Slayer Team Alba, Leona’s voice specifically—which had given his heart a small relief. Each of them were gray from dust and soot, exhausted, scared out of their minds, but alert.

Vernon was the first to spot Damien’s…certain development and shrieked, taking a step back. Althea opened her mouth to admonish him but saw what he was looking at and shrieked just the same.

“Holy fucking shit!” cried Althea.

“Hey now,” Damien said in a joking tone, “you’ve seen far worse! If anything this is as clean as you can get!”

Leona blinked a few times to process this information, turned to Alexander who shrugged, and stared back at this maniac. She paused, trying to put this absurd situation into words. “We have to get you out of here, Damien.”

Damien awkwardly chuckled. “I figured. What about the rest of you? I don’t want to offend you but none of us here can do anything. I definitely can’t and that’s when I have two arms.”

“Why are you still making one-arm jokes already?!” Vernon exclaimed before shaking his head, coughing to the side a few times, hacking dust out of his lungs.

Alexander stared at Vernon making sure he was alright then sighed. “We still got casualties out there, especially here. We’ll fall back once we got Systemic Works secure and all the wounded are evacuated. And hey, guess what? You’re one of them!”

“I—!” Damien stopped, stumbled as something had hit the ground hard, sending a lumbering echo throughout the street. Leona stepped forward, grabbed him so he didn’t fall and possibly devastate his injury more.

“Easy!” Leona warned.

Damien chuckled. “Thank you—”

A shudder ran through Alexander’s body, his blood going cold. The air was different. There was something off about it. Yes, it reeked of blood and cadavers but that wasn't the cause. This was deeper. Something that had shaken his core. Sublime, hidden, like sensing someone who was watching you.

Everything in him screamed to run.

The ground rumbled lightly like a peckish stomach, who could eat more than a quick snack yet less than a meal. It was a tease, Alexander felt. A whisper. The breath before a yell, the inch of bladesteel before the full withdrawal.

Was it Pereyra’s bolts? Archknell’s [Honor]?

Neither. An earthquake. The earth screamed. It thrashed. It agonized and it groaned and it was moving. Few blocks beyond, a couple of buildings fell into their own sinkholes; a street over had opened up, cut open like a butcher gutting a carcass, and things collapsed inside.

Alexander fell to his knees, fell again, flat on his face.

Tewfik. Had to be. It must have directed a powerful, maybe its most powerful attack yet, towards the earth itself. And this was its consequence.

Alexander turned towards his team, shouting for them, before a nearby building collapsed and all became smoke and ash.