Standing from her rocking chair, she picked Joka up with her Divine Reach and held him in the air, parallel to the ground as she walked around him. As she did so, she poked and prodded various parts of Joka's body with her pestle, eliciting grunts or groans from the man.
Stopping on his right side, she cracked her wrinkly knuckles and held her palms out above the man's chest.
Assorted items started flying off of the shelves, smashed and mixed and torn into ten separate mixtures of various shades of green or blue. As Madam Jockla's palms started to glow, the mixtures floated over and started seeping into Joka's wounds.
The man's back arched as a burning sensation took hold of his body, a hiss escaping from his lips.
The old woman kept him from moving too much with her firm telekinetic grip, palms roaming the air above the man's injuries as skin split and cracked, only to be stitched back together and repaved with a fresh coat of pink skin.
In less than a minute, Madam Jockla dropped Joka, who landed in a crouch with a thud. As his powerful knees extended him to his full height, he placed a hand on his left shoulder and rolled, testing the socket.
"I feel like a teenager again," he said with awe. "I've heard of your prowess, but to think it was actually understated…"
"Maybe if you men spent more time advancing your society than you do battling, you'd have healers too," the elderly lady said with a dismissive sniff. "Now, on to…"
She looked to where Fate had just been, finding no one there.
"Lousy brats," she grumbled, sitting in her chair again. "Don't even know how to say farewell to their elders."
Fate blinked, finding himself atop the mountain once more, Kravoss' ancestor looming above. His body was back to top condition, with not a scratch or scrape to be found.
The Dracok wasted no time congratulating Fate on his feat.
"Impressive, human. I thought that would surely be your end."
"I've been through worse," Fate shrugged.
"Then pass this last trial, and you will have earned the respect of I, Yntok."
"Can I get a heads-up on this one?"
The Dracok chuckled, the laugh causing the world itself to tremble before the beast's might.
"It won't do you any good," Yntok said with a disturbing grin on his beak, an expression a chicken had no right having. "Now, let the last trial begin!"
The predictable chasm opened up under Fate, and he let loose a tirade of curses at the Dracok as his world became dark.
It was dark, and twenty-two-year-old Fate had just gotten off of work.
Unlike the hostile and brutish people across the seas in the Auburn Wastes and Verfenda, the country of Crexya was a bastion of technology. It was this technology that hid them from those savages, that fed them, clothed them, and entertained them.
Fate had spent the past three years working with such technology, and could now fabricate burgers like the greatest of fry cooks. Although in his personal opinion, his burgers were much better.
He had eaten human-made cheeseburgers before and could taste each mistake the cook had made. 'Love' and 'soul' didn't make for good food.
The technology of the modern age, along with making life hundreds of times easier, excelled at fighting crime, saving hundreds of lives every year. But there was always one deranged lunatic who finds a way to subvert all that was well and good in this world.
The news called this mental hospital escapee the Azure Anarchist, a madman that dressed in blue and kidnapped people off the streets to play part in his sick games. The Azure Anarchist loved broadcasting his victims as he brought the worst of them out, forcing them to make haunting choices.
No one knew his motivations. Some speculated that this was some obscure way to deepen understanding of his Destruction Manifestation, others that the man was simply insane and got off to making people suffer.
Only one thing was certain, and that was that the man was dangerous.
As humans often did, Fate denied any such reality where such things could possibly happen to him as he walked down the night streets, skyscrapers to either side.
He was the only one that ever took this road at this hour, as none of the surrounding buildings had entrances that opened to this street. An odd design choice, but one he was glad for.
He hated dealing with people after a whole day of doing just that, and was eager to get to bed.
He strolled down the dark street without a care, the chip set just in front of his ear and below the skin playing his favorite song in a manner only he could hear. It was for this reason that he didn't hear the rapid footsteps behind him.
Suddenly, a hand covered his mouth. Fate panicked and struggled, blue eyes widening and pupils constricting as his fight-or-flight response kicked in. He used his Prodigy power on reflex, the street lighting up with a radiant Light emanating from his skin.
It did nothing to deter his attacker.
As he kicked and fought his unseen assailant, his world started to dim as his body was deprived of oxygen. Every blow he landed felt like he was hitting a steel wall.
He renewed his efforts when the glint of a needle filled with blue liquid caught what the Light of his Prodigy power, the tip slowly working its way toward his neck. He bit into the hand of whoever was doing this, teeth bouncing off without a scratch as he made every effort to break free.
It was over in seconds. The needle broke his skin, jammed all the way up to the barrel as a gloved hand pushed down on the plunger. Fate's struggles turned to violent seizures as foam leaked from his mouth and his body dropped several degrees in temperature.
As his face collided with the cold night concrete, the last sight he saw before his eyes closed was that of a man in a blue cloak, face covered by a smooth metal mask without holes.