The ground quaked under the might of clashing beasts, a chaotic symphony of snarls, hisses, and the sickening crunch of bone. The skeletal abomination swung its massive claw, scattering the smaller creatures like leaves in a storm, while the mist-beast darted around it, lashing out with corrosive tendrils that carved steaming scars into its foe.
And then, the air changed.
A sharp, electric tang filled the atmosphere, as though a thunderstorm had formed in an instant. The oppressive gloom of the Wastelands grew heavier, the darkness suffused with an eerie, flickering light.
From atop a jagged outcrop, a figure emerged.
The man stood tall and composed, his silhouette outlined by the faint, pulsing glow of his Crest—a fiery emblem emblazoned on the center of his chest, visible through the open collar of his dark, leather-like armor. Unlike the tattered rags and scavenged pieces worn by Wasteland survivors, his attire was pristine, a sleek combination of metallic plates and reinforced fabric etched with glowing, elemental sigils. His black boots gleamed even in the ashen light, and a long, dark coat billowed behind him, its hem embroidered with crimson runes that pulsed in time with his Crest.
His hair was a shock of silver, framing a sharp, angular face with piercing amber eyes that seemed to radiate intensity. A twin-bladed staff rested in his hand, the ends crackling with arcs of fire and lightning.
"Pathetic," the man muttered, his voice calm but laced with disdain. He stepped forward, his Crest flaring to life, bathing the rocky battlefield in a hellish red-orange glow.
The beasts turned as one, their predatory instincts locking onto the new arrival. The skeletal abomination let out a guttural roar, charging him with ground-shaking strides. The mist-beast hissed, tendrils writhing as it spiraled toward him in a serpentine rush.
The man remained still, watching them approach with an almost lazy indifference.
Then, he moved.
With a sharp flick of his staff, the air around him ignited in a swirling vortex of fire and lightning. The abomination's claw swiped down, only to meet the blazing edge of the storm. Fire surged up the limb, consuming the rotted flesh and brittle bone, while arcs of electricity danced across its body, forcing it back with an agonized screech.
The mist-beast lashed out, its tendrils slicing through the air. The man sidestepped with fluid precision, his coat snapping behind him. He thrust his staff forward, releasing a concentrated bolt of fire that struck the creature's core. The impact sent it recoiling, its form flickering and distorting as if struggling to maintain cohesion.
The chitinous swarm descended next, a writhing mass of claws and fangs. The man raised his hand, his Crest blazing brighter. With a commanding gesture, a wave of fire erupted from the ground, engulfing the swarm in an inferno. Screeches filled the air as the smaller creatures writhed and melted, their acidic bodies turning to bubbling pools of sludge.
Still, the larger beasts pressed on. The skeletal abomination lunged again, swinging both claws in a deadly arc. The man ducked low, spinning his staff in a precise motion that sent a blade of lightning slashing through its midsection. The abomination stumbled, its upper half collapsing in a heap of scorched bone.
But the mist-beast was relentless. It surged forward, tendrils snaking around the man, seeking to crush him in their corrosive embrace. For the first time, a flicker of strain crossed his face.
The tendrils tightened, the corrosive energy seeping through his armor, eating away at the runic fabric. He gritted his teeth, flames licking at his skin as he unleashed another surge of power. The tendrils recoiled, but not before leaving blackened scorch marks on his coat.
"Enough," he growled.
He slammed his staff into the ground, and the earth erupted. Pillars of fire burst forth, encasing the mist-beast in a fiery prison. The creature writhed, its form unraveling as the flames consumed it. The skeletal abomination, still struggling to rise, was caught in the inferno, its remaining body crumbling to ash.
When the flames died down, silence returned to the battlefield.
The man stood amidst the carnage, his breathing steady despite the burns on his armor and the faint trickle of blood from a gash on his cheek. He glanced down at the ruined beasts, his expression unreadable.
"Feral strength," he muttered, kicking aside a charred fragment of the abomination's skull. "But no discipline."
He turned his gaze toward the distant ruins where Eris had fled. A faint trail of footprints led away from the battlefield, barely visible against the ashen ground.
"Another scavenger?" he mused, his tone more curious than concerned. He tapped his staff against the ground, the elemental energy fading as the Crest's glow dimmed.
With a final glance at the smoldering remains, the man began to follow the trail, his coat trailing behind him like a shadow.
As Flumen prepared to take another step, his body tensed instinctively at the sound of soft, deliberate footsteps approaching from behind.
"You waste Essence too easily," came a calm, chiding voice.
Flumen turned his head slightly, just enough to see the speaker. Vince stood there, a stark contrast to the grim battlefield. His appearance, though still battle-worn, carried an aura of serenity that was almost out of place in the Wastelands. His white, gold-trimmed cloak fluttered faintly in the unnatural wind, the luminous Crest of Light glowing faintly on his forearm. It pulsed gently, like the beat of a steady heart, casting an ethereal light that softened the horrors around them.
"I handled the situation," Flumen replied tersely, flicking a streak of ash off his coat. "The beasts were in my path. What did you expect me to do? Exchange pleasantries?"
Vince sighed, stepping closer until he stood beside Flumen. His emerald-green eyes surveyed the charred remains of the skeletal abomination and the dissolving mist-beast with a faint look of disapproval.
"You could have avoided them," Vince said, his tone measured but firm. "They were nothing more than Awakened. Threats, yes, but manageable for even the common scavenger if they were desperate enough. You're Evolved. That level of Essence expenditure is reckless."
Flumen turned fully now, his amber eyes narrowing. "Reckless? I took them out swiftly. No prolonged suffering, no loose ends."
"And no thought for what comes next," Vince countered, his voice taking on a sharper edge. He gestured toward the distant ruins where Eris had disappeared. "Do you think no one noticed the display of power? The Wastelands aren't barren of eyes, Flumen. Word spreads, even among the desperate."
Flumen's jaw tightened. Vince's words struck a nerve, but his calm demeanor refused to give way to anger.
"You're starting to sound like the Commanders," Flumen muttered, glancing at the fading trail. "Always lecturing, always calculating. Fine. Point made."
Vince's expression softened slightly, but he didn't let the moment slip away. "We have a mission," he reminded. His voice lowered, becoming almost a whisper, as though the air itself were listening. "You know what's at stake. Our mission takes precedence. Any unnecessary use of Essence compromises us."
Flumen didn't respond immediately. Instead, he glanced down at his staff, its once-crackling ends now dim and inert. Vince's words dug deeper than he cared to admit.
Essence doesn't come freely. The mantra of their training echoed in his mind, a lesson drilled into them repeatedly. It wasn't just energy—it was a part of one's very soul, an irreplaceable resource that defined strength, survival, and identity.
"Was it worth it?" Flumen asked himself silently, his gaze lingering on the molten pools of sludge where the smaller beasts had fallen. His pride argued it was; the primal satisfaction of crushing his foes was undeniable. But in the back of his mind, doubt gnawed at him. This… waste.
He felt Vince's eyes on him, their glow cutting through the creeping dusk.
"Let's go," Vince said after a moment, his tone softening further. "The mission is critical. You know that better than anyone."
Flumen gave a slow, reluctant nod, his pride warring with logic. He fell into step beside Vince, the pair walking silently away from the battlefield.
As they moved, Vince's light radiated faintly around them, forming a protective aura that pushed back the oppressive gloom of the Wastelands. Yet, for all its brilliance, Flumen couldn't shake the feeling that his earlier display had not gone unnoticed.
Somewhere out there, in the labyrinth of desolation, something was watching.