- Astraeus, on Domains while teaching Sonna.
Two men stood behind a counter as the taller, younger figure with a burn across his lip rubbed a glass beneath his palms with his rag. He cleaned it carefully before turning toward the other. He piped up to his elder, a stout Harenlar with a long, concave scar across his cheek, “You think that newbie will get Crosser? That guy’s bounty has been up for a while.”
A hoarse laugh emerged from the wisened one as he twisted to greet a newcomer, sliding them a golden coin with a smile. As all knew the rules, no words were shared beneath the Syndicate’s sheath.
Only the employees spoke, and Hourus did so with a shake of his head toward Galel’s naivete, “Pay closer attention to eyes, boy. That's the tell. His was a storm. Roiling waters. I’d bet top dollar he is a Seafarer. Don’t piss him off. Probably just here for some quick cash or something.”
“Really!?” Galel’s voice raised as he stopped his work, but a firm glare returned him to it. Still, he spoke up again a moment later. “Do you think...”
“No. Don’t even think about it,” Hourus was firm in shutting down the young Irgen’s hopes. He couldn’t let his newest recruit get stolen by false dreams. “I’ve seen men like him before. They mean business. You should steer—”
A cough drew their attention as the figure they discussed stood ten paces away. His clothes were drenched, with hints of crimson dripping off the sleek coat hiding weapons. The towering man strode toward them with a slight shake of the head before tossing a heavy, red-soaked bag onto the table.
It rolled a few inches with a squelch.
Galel gulped as Hourus stepped up to welcome the newcomer. An open palm greeted them as the pale man said, “You haven’t seen anyone like me before. Pray you don’t see any more. Anything else I can do for some easy money? Need to leave soon.”
The experienced Syndicate merchant opened the rough cloth bag, tsking at the sight of the decapitated head within. He nodded to Galel, prompting the boy to grab four of their ‘Drachmas’ that the Syndicate was known for.
“We have underground rings ongoing tonight if you wish to join. I’m sure someone of your caliber would—”
As if in a rush, the towering figure cut off the merchant, waving away the Drachmas, “No. I want Creds. And... yeah. Sounds good. Lead the way. I could get off some steam.”
Galel’s eyes widened in anticipation. He wished to see what a ‘Seafarer’ was capable of, but Hourus glared at the boy. Without letting the Irgen fight back, the Harenlar stepped from behind the counter with a set of keys.
“Alrighty. I’ll take you right there with my set. Don’t mind if I bet on you, though? Gotta get my own somehow, y’know? Galel, cover for just a few minutes. If something happens, holler at my pad!” Hourus’ final words were shouted backward as the four-armed man and the dripping behemoth paced down the steps.
Just a few moments after entering an elevator at the bottom of the stairs, opened by the turn of a key, a clangor beat into the two men’s ears. Roars and cheers echoed against the low ceiling as Hourus guided the man who introduced himself as “Penance” toward the ring.
With a flash of his keys, his trademarked smile, and a swift exchange of credits, Hourus gleamed with a smile. He reached to pat Penance’s shoulder, but the man slinked away with a cat-like reflex.
“I got you signed up! Next fight! Win, and you get three thousand!” he said with a rising shout to cover the deafening cheers around them. Hourus wondered how the figure would react, whether he would show any sign of nervousness or inspect his opponent, but neither occurred.
He watched as Penance sat on a crate beside the ring and closed his eyes.
The Syndicate agent almost scoffed. Such a sight was absurd. Countless figures around him could attack. Who would lower their guard to such a level?
Yet as Hourus gazed closer, sizing up his black horse of the night, he realized the man wasn’t lowering his guard. His eyes were closed yet, but a thin film of water flowed across his skin.
It was almost invisible, yet it was not. The keen eye could spot it under the floodlights from above.
Horus grinned, his missing teeth showing their marks. He stepped aside to dial his pad and whispered beneath the chaos, “Yeath? Put all your money on Contestant #8. I guarantee you a victory.”
Then, the Harenlar stared ahead as Penance’s name was called. The noise increased to roars of people asking for his enshrouding clothes to be dropped, and a referee spoke to Penance.
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With a sigh, the long coat fell to the ground as the rules were stated, “No guns, ranged weapons, or thrown items. Other than that, let the crowd have fun!” Eyes glued themselves to the several untraceable firearms that poked out from the coat. Penance didn’t draw another weapon, however, not even the knives visible on his waist.
He simply stared ahead as his opponent sneered with two long daggers. The blades shone with a dangerous light beneath the blinding luminance above.
Contestant #9 moved first, dashing toward Penance. Hourus observed from the sideline with a knowing smile as the first slash was sidestepped without a hint of effort. Penance’s lackadaisical gaze told his battle experience as he evaded slash after slash. Left, right, up, down, nothing could hit him.
After dancing unnaturally for a man of his size, Penance stepped in close. His right forearm caught Contestant #9’s wrist. With a twist, he disarmed the man, and then before his opponent could react, Penance dis-armed him with the same blade. Blood and bone splattered across the arena.
The movement was so smooth and swift that it left Hourus wide-eyed. He hadn’t seen such technique in years.
An agonized cry filled the air before being replaced with rage. The lone dagger sang for Penance’s throat, but the man caught his opponent by the neck and slammed him into the arena’s floor.
A second later, only one fighter remained.
Cheers burst into an even louder volume, drowning out the sound of all that remained in the arena. Hourus, however, noticed more than the rest with his experience.
He closed his eyes, reimagining the battle as he saw the watery film upon Penance act as shields and lubricants in their battle. It gave him speed and defense.
Then, he stepped away as Contestant #8 signed up for a follow-up battle. Hourus sighed as ice crackled upon his palm, forging a slim needle after a few moments. Standing in his elevator alone, he sighed to himself, “The galaxy is truly going crazy. Judges in need of income? The Empires must have been telling the truth about the conscription. Maybe. Maybe.”
Less than a minute later, Hourus settled himself back into his chair behind the bar. Galel pestered him with question after question, none of which he reacted to until the boy said something in particular, “Do you think he’s heading to join the Dimension Rush?”
“Boy!” Hourus shut up his protege with a single word. Then, his eyes fell on the bottles lining the underside of the bar. “You are not to know about that yet. Syndicate intel. Study well. Tomorrow is your first duel.”
“What? Really? I thought you said I had to wait until I learned all the knife forms?” Galel’s innocence bled through despite their topic of speech.
The four-armed man groaned, his eyes glued to the cooling glasses as he forced tiny crystals to emerge. With a twitch of his eye, snow frosted the rings of the bottles, too, showcasing his mastery. He seemed torn yet still resolved.
“I changed my mind. I’ve grown bored of retirement.”
*********************
Joan wiped the sweat from her brow with her fourth hand, the only one not wielding a surgical tool as she sank into Archimedes’ spine. Two hands held open the flesh while the remainder went to work. It pieced together damaged bone and cut away that which wasn’t needed.
Mist flowed over the young boy, trailing into his oxygen mask as Sonna wobbled beside the bed. Astraeus held a light with his tall stature while the surgery continued underway. Minutes passed in complete silence until the Weren staggered back, her breath short and skin paler than usual.
Astraeus glanced back but didn’t stop doing as he was asked until Joan pulled back from the young human’s spine. The doctor sealed up the flesh with a quick suture and gel. Not even bandages were needed before Joan rolled Arch back over.
Then, she nodded to the Dirge and peeled open the genius’ eyelids. Her flashlight peered into his wandering pupils just as they gained focus. The orbs rolled around in their sockets before focusing on Joan.
A wide grin burst on the Harenlar’s face as she stepped back and pulled off her gloves. She quickly wiped away the smile yet said, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Arch. It is nice to see you again.”
The mechanic groaned in pain as he shuffled slightly. It was clear not all was right with his body, but after what had happened to him, Joan found that to be expected. If he were not at least thirty percent human as she thought him to be, the boy would have long died.
Sonna, despite all her exhaustion from her newly practiced Brightmist, rushed to his side. Even Astraeus peered down at the boy.
Another cough emerged from Arch before his hand raised an inch from the bed. All eyes fell to it as a tiny figure of frost formed, nigh see-through. It was a dog. Or a hound of some sort.
It curled around the boy’s hand as he struggled to move. Then, he looked up at the others and choked, “Did we all... make it out?”
“Yes! All thanks to you, Arch! We’ve all been so worried about you!” Sonna spewed concern as she reached to hold the boy, but a gloved hand held her. Joan’s last hand, still holding a syringe of medicine, shook her head.
Sonna winced, remembering how Archimedes hated physical touch. The boy offered a dry smile. In response, she instead nodded to the little icy figure as her curiosity took over, “What’s that?”
Archimedes explained himself just as Dante opened the door, carrying a duffle bag of credit chips, “It’s... Euclid. We bonded after I took my Qualae. We share... a body? He can leave, though. He was controlling the ship. Reinforcing it. Without him... I wouldn’t have been able to resist the Domains. He’s nice. But can’t talk. Not really.”
Dante plopped a bloody coat beside the credits on a nearby couch as he walked over. The human placed his hands on the side of the bed, conscientious not to touch the boy. Still, his suspicions over Euclid were worn on his face.
“Well, thank you, Euclid. I’m glad to see you awake, Arch. We have loads of work to do, but I want you rested first. Don’t worry about anything else for now. Okay?” Dante said before he gave Sonna a firm look. She knew exactly what it was about.
She had gone further in her practice than they mentioned before.
However, Archimedes saved the woman from any lecture as he shifted an inch to the side, “Take Euclid. He can turn... the ship on. That’s what you guys need, right? Otherwise... why would we be planet-side?”
Astraeus eyed Dante and the frosty creature. Then, he offered his advice, “I’ve seen this before. It’s not like what happened to you and Rejo. Symbiosis is rare but not unheard of. Typically, it grants more versatility and power but is far too difficult to master. Too much of a load on the brain.”
Dante nodded in thanks, “Appreciate it, Ast. We’ll head over to the ship then. Need to check in on Eidolon anyway. What are the chances we can move Arch, Joan? If he's up to it, I’d rather get back to the seas sooner than later.”
The doctor looked up from a measurement she had taken. After taking in the sight she hadn’t been paying attention to, the woman agreed, “Yeah. I can move him. He’s doped up enough that he wouldn’t feel a thing. Of course, that’s if the lights turn back on in the ship.”
Beneath her pressing words, Arch offered a grimace as he rallied his self-confidence. He pushed Euclid forward, the frosty apparition confused by his actions, “They will. Just set him on the console.”
Dante sighed. He pumped his arm a few times before calling for Lucius. As the power was off to the starship, they would have to force all the doors open, just as they did when they arrived and had to leave.
Not an easy job. But they would do it.
With a flashing grin, the human left, waving as he met Lucius. Rejo joined, too, and the three left for the starship. Astraeus remained behind to gingerly pick up Euclid in his hands. The Dirge stared at his own kin with an unknowing gaze, his tears dripping as always.
As she needed sleep, Sonna collapsed onto the couch, unbothered by the bloody coat that smelled of rain more than death. Soon, the Anathema left, leaving only Joan and Archimedes awake inside the room.
The doctor loomed over the boy, and she laughed at his tearful expression, “I won’t hurt you. But I do want to experiment with that arm. I couldn’t tell anything was amiss with it until you woke up. Euclid must have hidden deep. Nerves, maybe? Not sure. Are you willing to help me find out?”
A frantic, panicked shake of the head answered her question. A long sigh emerged from the woman as she retreated, “Fine. Fine. I won’t. Let me know if you want to learn more about the mutt. Always open. Let’s get you to the ship, boy.”
The next thing Archimedes saw was blurry darkness as a syringe had sent him into slumber before he even knew Joan had drawn it.