Helenheim, Deserters' Association HQ.
30 minutes before her comrades arrived, Alora's eyes batted open. Standing over her was a fair-skinned man with brown curly hair and two moles under his bright-green eyes. She gasped into consciousness, effectively startling Apollo. Turned back to her with widened eyes, the Displacement chuckled sheepishly, shuffling over the woman and grabbing her by the cheeks.
"So you're still alive?" Moloch grinned. "That makes it interesting~"
The door opened behind him. Standing upright, he glared through the darkness, peering over his shoulder. An old dark-skinned man entered the blackened space surrounding their prisoner; a black eyepatch across his right eye.
"Are you done toying with him, Apollo? The Director asked for your progress hours ago," said the Elder.
"I just got done," he pointed at her. "She's surprisingly not dead yet."
"If I remember correctly, Illustrious wanted to keep her alive."
"Huhhh? Really?" He bent over, scratching his chin. Apollo snickered. "What's so special about her life?"
The Elder shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me, that's just what he said. Now hurry up and come with me. The Director is calling you…"
Moloch's head threw back and his arms went limp. Dragging his legs, he followed the older Displacement, eventually slamming the door shut behind them. Just as she was about to lose hope and despair, her eyes widened for a final time.
The signature behind her—could she have sensed it if she weren't Blessed? The Enforcer's head turned, reflecting their familiar appearance in her dark blue eyes.
"You're…"
She looked down at her hands. The Fatebreakers enchaining her were all but shattered. But how? Once Alora looked up again, her unknown savior had vanished. It didn't make sense. Shaking her head from the infectious confusion, she looked at her arms and the already-healed burns across them.
"I've… healed?" Alora's eyes shimmered. 'What? I don't understand. How am I—' She looked up. '—still alive?'
The aura around her father standing in the doorframe uncontrollably wavered. Reflected in her eyes was his Fate's epitome. She looked down at her arm. Surprised, she watched her soul's identical blaze envelop the rest of her flesh. Keres dashed ahead and drew his sword, but for some reason, to her eyes—he was moving so incredibly slow.
'This is it! This is the feeling I've been missing all this time!' Alora's pupils shrunk. 'I can see it! Every little particle in the air, the inaudible scrape your soles make as you sprint. I can even hear… the flow of your Fate!'
Beaming excitedly, the Enforcer closed the distance, throwing her fist into the air and feeling it sink into Keres's cheek. Launched following the attack, her father flew toward the door. He lunged the sword down and felt it stab the ground, skidding to a halt before glaring at his daughter.
Alora, grinning widely, beckoned him forward. Keres withdrew the blade and sighed, carefully squinting his eyes to examine her aura's flow.
'This is insane. She's an entirely different person. Not only from just a few hours ago but when we first abducted her too! This flow in the aura belongs to a Master! Just what have you awakened, daughter?'
She hadn't done anything. Just as Keres and Atlas deduced, because Alora was the Illustrious' direct descendant, she inherited 'Blessed Freedom'. However, the augmentation she received wasn't the one she manifested at birth. It was something entirely different: by continuously sustaining damage, the body's limits are shattered and the user is granted the dormant power within them.
By electrocuting her numerous times over several weeks, the Deserters unaccounted for the insurmountable effects of Alora's innate Blessing. The more they damaged her, the stronger she became. Not only that, but when recovering to invoke new strength, the old wounds across her body regenerate autonomously
At the present moment, Alora Illustrious was akin to a Rank-0 anomaly like that of her Unconquerable brother or Barronia's New King.
She dashed ahead, slicing the air with her hand. Keres caught her by the wrist and spun around, kicking her right in the nose before beginning to advance. Tightening his sword's handle, the former proxy screamed, simultaneously slashing at her flesh. If she still stood beneath him, perhaps he would've nicked her. But even flashing to that moment—the instance he blitzed her during their first fight, led her to chuckle.
Her father's steel sunk through the air. Inch by inch, it dove through space, striving to cleave his Blessed daughter. She caught the sword by the metal and uppercut him, spinning around after jumping to kick Keres right in the skull, sending him to the ground. Once his back implanted into the floor, her superior reflexes moved—allowing her to catch the sword in mid-air before it fell.
Keres jumped up to his feet. Raising his fists, the proxy's black eyes reflected her stance. Everything from the way she held the sword to the wind swaying her snowy-white hair with the wind. Those azure orbs she inherited reflected nothing but the empty vision of not only her father but the entire room around her. He could feel it. Before her, he was nothing more than a speck! Even so…
His teeth clenched. "I WILL CUT YOU DOWN TO THE BONE AND INCINERATE YOUR CORPSE! NOW, LET US FIGHT, MY INSOLENT CHILD—!"
Everything became clearer to her. Despite the new weapons he frustratedly conjured, his defense was meaningless. She instantly stepped past him and finished swinging her sword, looking down to see the tip drenched in blood.
Alora sighed. Tracing her fingers along the blade, she reshaped it; the anger in her eyes ceasing to be a mere rage. She withheld the urge to sob, still staring at the sword.
"Mom… let's get started."
The alarms roared through the building. Her comrades infiltrating the Association jumped at the sound of it—Anthony specifically. Running along Talen and Uriel; the trio glared at the ceiling's flashing red light.
"What happened?" Talen asked.
Uriel shrugged. "Who knows?" He looked ahead.
"You think it's Lora?"
"Could be!" Tony grinned.
Tal and Uri glanced at each other. Then, they shrugged; the latter of which looked at their friend.
"Don't get your hopes up."
In the cafeteria, Umbra looked up, silent at the sight of the scarlet flashing lights. The Displacement grumbled, sinking his hand into his cheek and resting his elbow on the table.
"She broke free, huh?" He sighed, "Didn't Keres say to meet me here? Where is that idiot anyway…?"
Down the corridor, the Elder and Apollo abruptly turned their heads. Moloch's head tilted.
"What's wrong?" the old Displacement queried.
"Nothing. Keres… we just walked past him, didn't we? If he were still alive, wouldn't we sense his presence?"
Apollo and the Elder didn't waste any time. The former of which closed the distance–warping in front of the door and yanking it open, tearing it from its hinges. The moment the door creaked open, a gust of wind flew past them both. Apollo and the Elder looked down the hall, barely following Alora's figure as she hazily dashed down the long passage.
The Elder squinted. "She's free…"
"Haha!" Apollo chuckled, glaring back at his relative. "You scared?"
"Seriously? Who do you think you're talking to?"
In the end, she wound up in a dojo, surrounded by sliding doors and an overhead railing. She pointed out her wrist and summoned her soul's Blessing, conjuring a sky-blue sword of Fate. Alora sighed. The lights flickered. Eventually, they dimmed completely—enveloping the entire room in darkness. The illumination quickly returned. Instead of the doors and overhead railing previously surrounding her was none other than an army of Deserters, each wielding their weapon and aura.
Alora scanned them. Her head lowered. 'I could never understand what made those two so special. They were prodigies, even Anthony. Each of you was blessed, but I was powerless. I couldn't help but curse my weakness. I bet that's why I'm the way I am now. To make things… right.'
'What did you want? What do you believe in?' A woman's voice echoed through her head.
She sighed. 'Still, that doesn't mean anything. Even he couldn't surpass Talen…'
She lamented her inferiority. Eyes shut tight, Alora's lip quivered. She still couldn't escape the memory of her motionlessness. How could she surpass those heights if she couldn't even thwart that remembrance?
She looked up. If nothing else, she had his words to lean back on.
'I always thought of you as my older sister. I wanted to be a good person. I wanted to be… perfect for you.'
That was good enough for her.
Alora jumped into the air and threw her leg, kicking the Deserter in front of her to the floor. Upon landing, she crouched, reaching over her shoulder to withdraw a glowing sky-blue blade.
It expanded. In one clean slice, she dismembered numerous Deserters, effortlessly splattering the walls with brains and blood. She looked up, spotting the pike above inches away from skewering her. Slimming her sword, she cleaved off their arm and watched it fly into the air. Blood on her right cheek, Illustrious dashed through the crowd, cutting through her attackers' flesh like paper.
Nevertheless, they kept coming. Alora blocked an overhead slash with her sword and pushed them back, slitting their throat. She turned around, spotting a heel descend from the air, smashing open the ground it assaulted. Alora grabbed their leg and stabbed it with her sword. She flipped over the Deserters' shoulder and punched another in the face; widening her eyes while barely ducking under a staff.
She stood upright, starting to retreat. Alora's dark-blue orbs scanned the Deserters' movements. The way they advanced, the flow of their Fate—even the way they held their weapon. She blitzed past and instantly reappeared behind them, grabbing hold of his head to easily snap his neck.
Surrounded by nothing but blood and gore, the final body splattered onto the floor before her. Deactivating her aura's constant release, she turned her head, reflecting Umbra's dark-haired appearance in her sky-blue eyes.
"Damn," The Displacement clenched his fists. "What the hell are you?"
Alora conjured another sword in her hand; white hair flowing before her eyes, the Enforcer glared into Andri's soul.
"I'll show you!"
Trivia: The Elder's real name is Aiden Madden. He wears a light brown kimono and wears an eyepatch over his right eye. His left eye that's exposed is red. He has a part in the left side of his brown hair and he also has a thick-ass brown beard. He was born November 16th and is one of twenty Rank-0 Displacements. He wields the 'One-Shot' Predestined Power. He's also 5'10".