"Huff...that makes ten.."
Sweat dripped onto the floor of the arena. Cypher sat cross legged, letting nothing distract him from the surgical like precision he had used to build a other piece of his Alter. His clothes had been upgraded to the official white cloak that most of the churches Weavers wore to symbolise status.
He had recently completed his tenth day of training with Clementine, having been made to fight the same swords as before. Although this time they didn't just fly directly at him, but could actually deflect his attempts to block them, almost like they had a mind of their own.
Nonetheless, when Clementine left it gave Cypher the opportunity to further build his Alter. Ofcourse, he would never miss such an important task.
"20 more... and you won't just crack, you'll break." Above him, the second chain had undergone a significantly abrupt change. It appeared much more worn, with rust and cracks spreading along it's surface. The sight of this progress lifted Cyphers mood considerably.
"AHH, I almost forgot about Clementines task!" After two hours of hard work, he had completely neglected to visit the Main reception, a place where Dreamweavers received tasks and missions when not on the battlefield. Today was meant to be Cyphers first time venturing out of the church to complete one.
After quickly checking his progress one last time, Cypher left his soul space and stood up. Seeing no need to delay any longer, he left the arena and ascended the levels of the Church.
A few minutes later...
"Initiate? If your looking for a mission just pick one up from the board." An old man dressed in traditional priest garments stood behind a counter and pointed towards a wooden board that held multiple pinned up prices of parchment, each encrobed with different words and tasks.
"Thank you." Cypher nodded and walked forward to face the board. Each parchment was labelled key points and dangers, though nothing here was particularly difficult.
Picking up one specific task, Cypher smiled and walked back to the man, putting the chosen task on the desk Infront of him.
"Put me down for this one."
"That's a rough area son, don't let your guard down." The priest picked up a pen and wrote Cyphers name on a register along with his mission of choice, "Though I'm sure you'll be just fine."
The boys name had already garnered a little fame in the Church. How could he not when he received personal training from the Saint. Most other Dreamweavers- being born from branch families or wealthy merchants- had to receive their training from caliber 2 or 3 teachers for hire. To be taught by a caliber 4 was a natural result of Cyphers lack of money to afford a teacher and Clematines personal affection.
"I'll be leaving now." Turning his back and walking towards the grand courtyard that lay just behind the public execution ground, Cypher prepared to re-enter the impoverished city that he hasn't seen since his awakening. This time though, he wouldn't be going as a human but as a Dreamweaver. Now, the city seemed more like a trivial playground than a danger.
As his white cloak swayed and fluttered in a wraith like beauty, Cypher disappeared from view.
-----------------------------------------------------
"Haha, your shit at this Ray!"
"Bastard, that was my last two silver!"
"If we play again, you could win it back."
"You think I'll fall for that! Fine, one more game!"
Two rather muscular men held playing cards at a wooden table, bickering about winning and losing.
They were in a medium sized room, the smell of alcohol hung in the air. The walls had a yellow colouration from tobacco smoke and the flimsy plank floorboards held splinters and chips in disrepair.
Two other men leaned against the far wall, overlooking two cages that each held a young girl and an older looking woman. Both had signs of abuse and mistreatment.
"When's the customer getting here, it's been long enough." One of the men leaning against the walls spoke, the scar on his face an intimidating visage for anyone who looked his way.
"The junky wouldn't miss his fix even if the church beheaded him. Hell be here." The other man spoke in response, a glass tube of pink liquid twirling throughout his fingers in a mezmorizing motion.
The four of them together made up a small group. Each of them working together to form a small criminal gang that dabbled in the slave trade and drug trade.
"Where's that shit even come from Anyway? Seems like the cults handywork of anything."
The Tube stopped it's motion in the man's fingers as he glared at his partner," That's not for us to know. Those creepy fucks can do what they want as long as we get payed."
The drug had recently appeared in the market. It was known as Euphoraline. The unique effect was that users could temporarily gain a slither of magical abilities, at the cost of becoming increasingly catatonic as time went by. Obviously as a means to make money, highly addictive additives were all mixed in to keep customers coming back. Though, the magical effects were pathetic in comparison to the lowest caliber of Dreamweavers.
Bang!
A sound abruptly came from one one of the cages.
"Please, let me have some more!" An amaciated woman pleaded against her iron bars, desperately trying to reach out for the vail.
"Pathetic!" A boot struck her face in return," maybe next time you'll think about paying us bitch."
"Mom!" A second voice came from the other cage. This one came from a younger girl of about nine years old. She had raven black hair and tears in her eyes. After her mother was tricked into taking the drug and grew addicted after the first try, they both were forced to pay off the debts through slavery. Leading to the current predicament.
"Again! I can't take this anymore!"
A voice came from the other side of the room.
"Take them out, I want to play with them"
One of the muscular men put down his cards and looked towards the cages, stress from losing built up on his face.
A look of disgust came from the gang member closest to the cages," You can use this one, don't even think about trying the kid." He was a criminal, but even he had some boundaries!
"Fine." The woman's cage opened and she was dragged out. A needle pierced her neck, with pink liquid flowing into her veins.
Her pupils dialated and the blue ireses sorrounding them grew brighter and brighter as blue particles of light materialised in the room.
"So pretty..." Reaching out towards the lights like a child seeing colour for the first time, it was clear that the Euphoraline had already taken affect.
A sobbing came from the cage that was still occupied. The child couldn't bear to watch the scene, a mix of anger and despair clouding her emotions while she tried not to watch the heartbreaking behaviour her mother's was showing.
However, soon a blanket was thrown over the cage, blocking everything but the sound from view. One of the men having felt a shred of guilt and decided not to force the kid to watch.
"So many sparkles." The mother wasn't paying attention to the situation and continued in her stupor to touch the lights.
Unfortunately, she was interrupted when a large hand grabbed her neck, dragging her towards the table that still held the cards from the previous game.
"Stupid Junky, your still playing around. You must think it's funny that I lost huh!"
The man pressed her head on the table and fiddled with his belt, trying to loosen it.
"Be quick, he could be here any minute."
The scar face man commanded, looking towards the delapated door that served as an entrance to the building.
"Yea, yea. It'll just take a minute."
The sobbing could still be heard even with the cover. The girl could hear everything.
Just as the belt finally loosened....
Flicker
The candles that lit up the room suddenly blew out before relighting, an invisible gust of wind spreading and chilling the room that now felt wrong. The air seemed to warp with an ethereal energy, the blue lights that centered around the mother instantly disapating as if under a much more powerful pressure.
The man stopped messing with his belt immediately, the silence in the room creating an uncomfortable tension.
"What the fuck was that-"
KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK
The slow and calm sound came from the entrance, The cold chill growing...