Stealth has reached level 32. Mask your presence to other beings with 32% efficiency.
"Took you a while," Dave said as Erin got back from her scouting trip.
He got out of his Stealth to meet her, even though he knew she would sense him either way.
Erin gazed at the little alcove in which David was supposed to wait for her; he had indeed waited for her, but he had also killed twenty-se—no, twenty-eight Scrapsters by himself. Still, she did not show any surprise.
"I found her," Erin said. Yet, she shook her head. "I don't know if you can beat her by yourself, David.
"Why?" David asked with nonchalance; he was sitting on the corpse of a Builder Scrapster; it was better than resting his back on the rocky walls. "What level is it?"
"Twenty-five and she has four knights guarding her, each of them is level twenty," Erin said.
"Bloody Source…"
Erin intervened, "You should not—"
"Curse the bloody Source, yeah, yeah… it deserves it. Like I had any chance of doing what we are doing without you by my side. It must have known somehow, and I wonder what's the purpose behind delivering the oasis from this thing's presence…" He asked himself more than to her.
"Well, I believe you just said it yourself," Erin commented.
"I did? What did I say?"
"Delivering the Scrapsters and the oasis from their plague," she repeated.
"Alright… I said that but I don't find the reason in that statement; why should I do it?"
"If a Trespasser is the complete opposite of a Warden, then I guess you got yourself your reason, Davi."
He scoffed. "Playing the Source's puppet… such a noble thing to do…" he shook his head, "Take me from a fool or a rejecter, but I don't believe that this is how things should be, I'm no Trespasser, I'm more a slave, than anything else."
"Acting directly for the Source like Wardens is a noble thing, David. You should be proud of it; not many get to do it."
"Yes, I bet there are hundreds of people looking for me right now, wanting to kill me for the noble purpose of serving the Source…" David said.
Erin smirked, "You got that right; there actually are many people looking for you. Anybody would be willing to kill you, steal your title, and take on your mission, or more importantly, the abilities behind it."
"And why are you or the other Fays not doing it?" He asked, skeptical.
"I thought I told you already.; We respect nature; life is the most precious thing in existence. Without it, the Source wouldn't exist."
"So there are no Fays out there that would gladly take my head to get my Title?" David asked.
"No… I can't say there aren't. But not among Wood Fey. They are the most… peaceful among us, but indeed, there are Fays out there you should be wary about, like… the Rebellion," she said, trying to hide her face by turning to the side.
"Not the first time I hear about that? It does sound nasty."
"What else is there to worry about?
"Well, Blood Fey are… less strict than Wood Fey in following the Source." Her head turned to the side.
Her reaction made Dave realize something. Her different features from the other Fays, the past she kept hidden… but he didn't want to push, a gentleman never pushed a lady. It was clear she wasn't willing to speak.
He sighed, "Anyway… are we going to take on this killer queen or not?"
"You have yet to level up, right?" She asked, turning back to a semblance of easiness.
"Yeah… I've taken care of dozens of these creatures; leveling up is damn hard."
"This is nothing, David; after level twenty, it gets harder, and it does with every Specialization. Besides, people pass their lives hunting for Sourceborns to level up their Class," she said.
"Oh well, I guess I'm going to need a long life."
"Absorbing Life Source from Sourceborn is not the only way to level up, but it sure is the best one," Erin said.
"So, there are others after all?"
"Killing proper lifeforms, as we are doing right now," she said darkly, angrily.
"Well, you say that, but I haven't really seen many Sourceborn to start with, so how do people really level up around here?" David asked.
"Oh, I thought the Ancient had told you already," Erin answered.
"Nope."
"You don't see many Sourceborn because we are still in Warden territory, the higher the amount of life, the higher Resilience Threshold of the zone, which is then directly proportioned to the quantity and quality of the Sourceborns, but Wardens are there for that as well, their presence alone is enough to put a stop-gap for the spawning of the worst creatures, but sometimes even that is not enough." She pointed up and away, "Leaving the city also means leaving its protection and being in the wild, at the mercy of Sourceborns, and I assure you that fighting a level 120 Soucerborns is not exactly like fighting a creature six times more powerful than the Night Impit you've fought," Erin shook her head.
"So, exponential scaling of power…" David commented. "I don't exactly like those odds, but I guess gaining some Class level will only help me in saving my skin."
Erin nodded, "Then I guess it's decided."
"What is decided?"
"Where we'll go after we've done with this Quest of yours. I'll take you to a place that fits our needs, but you are going to sweat quite a lot. Are you ready for it?" she asked.
David grinned, "I was born ready."
"You were? Is that like a saying from where you come from?" she asked, confused.
"Yeah… I guess it is." Dave sighed, "You've got an incredible way of breaking my moments of awesomeness; a killjoy, that's what you are. Come on now, lead the way…"
***
Cyana was listening enthralled to the music and its rhythmic and unending crescendo. It was so slow, so minute that it felt barely noticeable, but it was there, the everpresent crescendo was there, and it had almost reached its end.
The music was almost chaotic now, unpredictable, wild, violent, yet pure, and her mind and her head danced with it; she was incapable of stopping those movements; no, she didn't want to. She wanted to let herself go, dance with the wind, it was what the song wanted to suggest to her, or at least that's what she believed. The Song of the Wind wanted to make her free, but at the same time wanted to show her all that she could do and all that she would face with her own complete freedom.
The answer was there, it had always been, but the song was leading her to reach it, showing her the road, she could grasp it, she could make herself free; free of worries, of problems, free of the rules of society, free from that chaotic life, and she had to do was listen to it.
The answer to all her questions was there, it was unique, untarnished, and the music was whispering it to her; she just had to follow it. She just had to listen to the last harmony and then—
A door slamming brought her out of her hypnotized state; she awoke from her self-induced torpor, turning her head abruptly to the origin of the hated sound.
She cursed the culprit, everyone in the pub did, everyone rose up, turning to the door and started booing at the responsible; but it was just another Hornless, he was profusely excusing himself for the noise, he hadn't done it on purpose.
From the stage, a wild laugh had replaced the beautiful harmony that had instead been completed. The musician laughed at the coincidence, but then everyone started applauding him, so he took that chance to get up, bow, and place the instrument on the chair. He announced that he would wet his throat.
A crestfallen Cyana took that chance to pick up her omnitool from the coat's internal pocket and check the time—four hours had gone by.
She had spent that last four hours listening to the music? Really? And after her first drink, she hadn't ordered anything at all. For less than a second, her eyes went to the bartender, had he drugged her drinks? It was unlikely; she had Toxins Resistance, and not only that, her own Resilience was one hundred and seventy; to drug her, the bartender would have to use something that the price of a drink or several hundreds of them would not cover.
No, she had been hypnotized by the artist behind that wonderful display of incredible music.
She sighed, now not only sad because Five might have come and left but also because she hadn't had the chance to listen to the end, to the supposed answer for freedom.
Chuckling at her own stupidity, Cyana turned to the bartender; maybe she could describe Five to her. Yet, looking for the bartender, her eyes met the musician drinking something at the counter.
She saw the bartender whisper something to his ear; the musician turned toward her; then carrying two drinks, the musician left the counter. Cyana took that chance to raise her hand to call for the bartender, but he was not giving her attention, so she got up, but at that moment she heard the sound of a glass being placed on her table. Her eyes went to the responsible.
It was the musician; he had put the glasses down on her table, "May I?" He asked with his intense amber eyes, so wildly different from her red eyes; they almost looked like those of Virael, but they were… gentler, yet at the same time just as resolute.
"Yes…" she said, sitting back down, "please."
"Thank you." Sitting down, the musician took a sip of his drink, then focused on her; he had a grinning smile.
"It's not always that we see non-Hornless around here; most of those that come here are asking for trouble or simply have been introduced to the place; you, my fair lady, don't look like someone asking for trouble."
Despite the way he looked and the way he played, Cyana didn't exactly like that tone; she was used to much more… courteous approaches because that could be just an approach.
"I am not looking for troubles, but I can bring a lot of troubles if I put my mind to it," she replied. Placing her foot down to show dominance was the best thing she could at that point, she did not need people treating her badly, not at that moment, and although she was intrigued by the stranger, she was not looking for any flirt.
The musician smiled some more, "Well, I guess that narrows down the reason for you being here."
Cyana didn't answer; he let him continue on his weird approach.
Before continuing, the musician took another sip from his light blue drink, "But if that is so, then I guess you took my invitation in stride, and something makes me think that you are not here just because you wanted to know the Fiend behind the helmet. Pity for me, then, because what I'm looking at is one of the most beautiful Special Forces' Fiendess that I have ever had the pleasure to meet, but I bet you already know that, right, Three?"
As he spoke, Cyana's eyes slightly widened, she curved on the table, getting closer to meet his face, "Five!?" she said in a hushed tone, "Is that you!?"
Fiend
Level: 65
If she had taken Detailed Info, she might have noticed more details about him and recognized him at first glance, but she had followed the military books to perfection, and they only allowed users of Supernatural Senses, especially into the Special Forces.
Five smiled, "How are you, Three? But besides that, may I call you Cyana? A quick search on your brother's identity gave me your name. If it doesn't bother you, I'd like to refer to each other with our real names; keeping those stupid names up while out of duty is… sad," he frowned at the thought as he took another sip, but then his smile was back on.
Cyana was still rather surprised, but she snorted, "It's fine to me, but how should I call you, Mr. artist… and by the way, whatever you were playing was…" she couldn't really find the right word for it, she wanted to refrain from acting like a teenager and saying that it was "intriguing" or any other stupid adjectives, "It was painfully heartwarming."
It was Five's turn to arc an eyebrow, "That is the first time I hear it described it like that, but I guess it is… fitting." He raised his glass to her, and after checking what she had brought her and identifying it as the same thing she had drunk before, she did the same. Their glasses met with beautiful cheers. Then they took a slow sip.
"My name is Geon "Starlight" Kra'in," said Five, "but you can call me Starlight if you so wish."
Cyana widened her eyes before the drink she had yet to gulp down came out from her nostrils and splashed in Five's face in a bout of laughter.
She didn't make it. Cyana couldn't contain herself; his nickname and the way he had said it had just been way, way too over her ability to contain her amusement.
"That's… appreciative," Geon said, drying his face with the black jacket he wore over his maroon suit. "With this, I can say that I've pretty much completed my collection of peculiar reactions."
"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry, Fi- Geon, I just…" Cyana couldn't properly speak, "the way you said it was… ridiculously amusing. I think I'm going to relive that memory again and again with my Eidetic Memory," there were tears in her eyes.
"Happy you liked my performance then," Geon replied.
Cyana dried her eyes, "It's been so long since I laughed like that… my, my, my… thank you, Five—Geon."
Geon nodded, letting out a chuckle himself.
"So, Cyana, what brings you here?" He tried to change the topic.
"That is your stage name, right?" She shifted her focus to the sign displaying a list of names on the stage; the biggest among them said "Starlight."
"It is, but if we could change the focus of the conversation…"
Cyana chuckled some more, "You're, you're, again I'm sorry."
It really took her a good five minutes to return to a semblance of normalcy, but when finally she got down to speak with him about the reason why she had come looking for him, she found out that there really wasn't anything to laugh about.
"I've heard, of course I did. And… I was surprised but not shocked…" Geon said.
"You already knew?" Cyana asked, her hands gripping the table.
"No, I didn't, but my senses are very good, and although the mists cover senses and special senses, there is always something that Myst-callers forget to take care of," he said, letting it hang in the air.
"Like what?" Cyana asked.
"Like vibrations in the ground," he answered, shaking his glass and making it clink with the sound of the melting cubes of ice. "I heard the vibrations of something very powerful connecting with the ground, but I couldn't really parse something so random. It happens very frequently; there are continuous little quakes that hit the ground; with my senses, you could perceive one every few minutes."
Cyana nodded, "But… why? You've been in more missions with him than I knew; why did Captain Virael do something so useless and absurd? If he had to defend himself, why destroy the eggs? But he wasn't even really defensive from the Eye's point of view; he was the one attacking. That is not sanctioned by the codes…"
"I don't really know how to answer you, Cyana, but for my experience, ex-Captain Virael, for I believe he has been taken in custody by now, has always been a cold person, someone cold enough to respect and not care about anything that didn't follow the protocol. But throughout the whole mission, he's been—" Cyana finished the phrase for him.
"Another person…"
Geon silently nodded.
"But—" Cyana's question was interrupted by a ringing; it was Geon's omnitool.
As he looked on the device's surface, his face morphed to one of annoyance, "It's the Headquarter… I've got to take this," he said visually annoyed, then he got up and stepped away.
Cyana leaned back on the chair, "I wish I received a call from the Headquarters…"
She followed Geon speaking; he seemed rather taken by the call, then he turned toward her staring at her. She heard him speak her name; thirty seconds later, he was back at the table, he did not sit down.
"I've received a new mission, and I've just been…" he looked confused, "promoted to Captain on trial. I have to depart right away," he announced.
"Oh… then, go ahead; I wish you good luck…"
"We should prepare and fast, I can take you to the Headquarter with my car right away if you want, but if you are not comfortable with it, I'll have Herman," he pointed to the bartender, "call you a taxi."
Cyana did not connect the dots right away.
"We should?" she asked, after a second.
"I'm a Captain now, even if on trial, I get to form the teams, and I suggested you, it seemed you needed a bit of… action," he said.
"I've been reinstated? Cyana asked, shooting up.
"You have. So, car or taxi, we don't have all day. Mind that our new mission is connected to yesterday's; they say they can find the Trespasser now," Geon said with a grin, "and they want those that have been closest to him to catch it."
Cyana's gaze became sharp as the blade of a knife, "I believe your car will be perfectly fine."