Chapter 17-
“Six years ago…”
The Atamape people lived in Southwestern region of Andeidra, off the coast from which they frequently cast their nets into, searching for food. The position by the sea was prized, in part because the actual hospitable land (which was not cliffside or otherwise rocky) was sparse and occupied by other tribes, who maintained a tense proximity to one another.
That was, however, until two hundred years ago, when the forefather, Chief Atamape, arrived at the coast with his wife. His legend described the fang he was given by the wolf from the darkness of the moon, how he fashioned it to an arrow and approached the largest established tribe in the area. When their warriors rose to fight him, he drew the arrow back and shot it directly into the heart of the strongest man who opposed him. As the warrior fell, every other man, woman, and child of the village dropped dead. Their bodies turned to ash and drifted along the wind to the sea. When the Atamape people cast their nets into that sea, they were saving the souls of those who had died long ago. Chief Atamape, in this same legend, proclaimed after their defeat: “There is no such thing as peace.”
This was the village that Sonsee-array and her younger brother, Dasodaha, grew up in.
“Six years ago…”
Sonsee was only sixteen, her brother twelve, when the Andeidran military appeared on the horizon. A prospector had discerned that the land the Atamape people occupied contained a cache of valuable oil. They weren’t considered Andeidran citizens, little more than trespassers, and so it was no moral issue to remove them from the territory they had claimed for countless generations. When they refused and fought back, that territory, which was founded on bloodshed, was razed to the ground in a matter of hours.
When the first shot rang out, Sonsee was weaving in her family’s hut, Daso was by her side, resting. The noise shocked her senses; she had never heard gunfire before, as her people had little use for firearms, being fishermen. At the sound of cries of pain and repeated shots, she froze, paralysed with fear, but Daso ran out to see what was happening. Once the initial wave of shock had washed over her, Sonsee removed a log from the back of the hut that covered a small hole meant for moving items. In broad daylight, she ran from the village, out into the wilderness, not looking back.
A hut was lit ablaze, the wooden construction quickly immolated and the fire spread throughout the village. Every man, woman, and child was slaughtered in the chaos; everyone except for Dasodaha, who knelt down amongst the rising tongues of flame. An officer approached him and spoke to him authoritatively:
“Ok kid, come peacefully and you’ll be fine, just cooperate.”
The officer did not speak in Atamape, so Daso could not understand them, but he knew the meaning. He looked up at the man, revealing in his hand the severed head of a soldier.
“Wh-what the hell-?!”
Daso’s eyes were not crying, only the words of his great forefather, Chief Atamape rang through his mind…
“There is no such thing as peace…”
Daso rose to his feet, dropping the head. He opened his mouth to speak. The words he said were in his native language, the phrase, “Tok-see siddee.” It meant “This is my heart,” but to the officer’s ears, it sounded like-
“[TOXICITY]!!”
For the first time, the black wave of anger crashed in his heart.
That was six years ago, Sonsee hadn’t seen his face since then, she hadn’t even the faintest idea of his anger.
Daso screamed, “Sonsee!!” his face was grim and wild.
“Daso…” She couldn’t comprehend what to say to him. “What are you… doing here?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m here to destroy that Spring.”
“W-what?!” she cried. “Why are you following that man?”
“How do you know about Warren?” he barked.
“I heard of what he’s been doing from Captain Jepta-”
“Captain??” he questioned fiercely. “From what, the military?!”
Sonsee softly conceded. “Yes.”
“What the hell are you doing working with their military?!”
Sonsee was caught in turmoil, she had never seen him so angry when they were children. She didn’t know whether or not she could answer truthfully.
“I-I’m just glad you’re alive…” she said.
“Alive?” he replied, angrily. “You left me for dead!”
Sonsee was lost as to how to reconcile this situation, her attempt to change the subject had failed, there was no way to excuse the past, and she knew it.
“I was- I was afraid-” she couldn’t finish her sentence before he lunged at her. His fist collided with her face and sent her backwards. He felt no shame in the moments following, just the release of a pent-up anger. She stumbled back, holding her cheek, shocked that he would strike her. She looked up at him with the same kaleidoscopic melancholy she felt in the Garden.
“Can you ever forgive me?”
…
…….
“[TOXICITY]!!”
The viper flew from his mouth.
“What the- is that his Vocation?!” Sonsee thought, collapsing her spear apart. The extra range allowed her to entangle the snake, flinging it into the air and whipping it. The iron tip swiped its body, making a terrible scraping sound, as if the snake’s scales were metal. Toxicity fell to the ground a few feet away, quickly slithering around in a wild erratic pattern towards her. At the same time, Daso swung at her again. She saw his blow approaching; one side of her said to swing her spear at him, another restrained her from attacking her own brother. Her instinct was tearing itself in half.
In the time that she hesitated, her arm could not rise quickly enough. The back of his arm slammed again into her face, knocking her off balance and to the ground. As she fell, Toxicity reached her, leaping up to bite into her leg.
“I couldn’t hurt him, but I can hurt you!!”
In the span of a second, she slammed her arm downwards, the bottom of her spear made contact with Toxicity’s body, near the head, and crushed it down into the ground.
“Her reactions are impressive,” Daso observed. “Did she learn to fight this on-edge in the few years since then?”
The snake hissed and wriggled its body wildly, pinned against the dirt.
“Now, brother, please, listen to me…” Her eyes were full of sadness as she looked up at him.
“He’s grown up so much since then…” she thought. “He probably looks older than me, his frame is larger, his face is harder, his body looks so weathered…” She realized that, in some way, she was responsible for that hard face and weathered body; this thought broke a small part of her heart in two.
“What do you have to say to me?” he replied with a cool anger.
She planted her foot on the snake’s head, letting her straighten her weapon with a subtle flicking motion. She replaced her foot with the bottom of the spear again and slowly staggered to her feet.
“I just want to talk to you.”
---
Gideon jabbed ahead of himself, piercing the air four times in a second. Warren barely fell back far enough to avoid the point of his sword.
“Where did you learn to fight like this?” he asked nonchalantly, dodging to the side.
Gideon completed a five-stroke movement, missing his opponent by a hair’s breadth each time.
“The way I fight isn’t taught,” he replied. “It’s understood.”
“Oh?” Warren smirked. “Understood from what?” he flew up into the air and fired a beam at Gideon from above.
Gideon pivoted on his right foot out of the way of the pillar of light and continued his approach.
“There’s a bluebird in my heart,” he began. “When I fight, all I do is follow its song.”
Gideon was now weaving towards Warren at a stunning speed, his blade rose slowly, as if he had no worries about making his mark. As Warren descended, he planned to use Salamander to teleport away, until he looked down at his enemy.
“Where did he-?”
Gideon was nowhere to be seen for a split-second, when he was suddenly exactly where Warren was about to land. With barely any time to react, Warren activated a quick Salamander, only enough to move him three inches to the side. It was a desperate attempt, but enough to prevent himself from being impaled.
He landed on his feet and looked back at his opponent.
“So, what I can tell is that you’re seeking the truth? Just like me?” he sneered. The blade had grazed his leg, and blood began to slowly drip from the wound.
“Men like me are nothing like you,” Gideon replied with a cold voice.
“But when you fight like that,” Warren exposited. “You’re following the same path as I am; that bluebird in your heart, it’s the same one I see in this eye!” He raised a hand to point at his rose.
Gideon scoffed at him. “You make it sound like some kind of law. I don’t follow any path, I stand exactly where I’m asked.”
Warren’s eyes slanted and his head tilted to the side in what was almost a smile.
“Living like that,” he replied. “Is as good as being dead!!” he shrieked the last words.
“[SALAMANDER]!!”
He held nothing back.
---
Gallow stepped forward, a bullet whizzed past his head. It would have landed, but as he moved, his body seemed to bolt to the side, maintaining his forward momentum.
“H-how did he-?” Malvado was shocked. “He’s been shot twice, how is he able to move- and move that fast?!” he thought.
Gallow, still closing the gap between them, dove to the side, fired a shot, and pulled his body in the opposite direction to shoot a second bullet. Malvado only had enough time to react to one bullet, the other struck him in the shoulder.
He howled in pain, but kept moving to avoid the next attack.
“I need to counter!”
Malvado fired two shots at Gallow, but his superior speed and maneuverability allowed him to easily avoid them. There was now only eight feet of separation between them.
“No! He’s too close!” Malvado began to panic, he pulled his gun up once more. “My only chance is a point-blank shot!”
He pulled the trigger.
*Click*
Gallow, six feet away, smirked. “Out of ammo?”
Malvado's face went pale, his eyes widened.
“That’s funny, so am I,” Gallow chuckled. “But I have a feeling I won’t need any for this.”
“For…?” Malvado creaked.
Gallow’s eyes lit up, he planted his foot in the ground.
“[NAVIGATOR]!!”
His spirit body burst out and swung its fist directly into Malvado’s face. At once, the other man’s own spirit body was knocked out from its physical vessel. The shock of the experience sent Malvado staggering back as his ethereal form collapsed with him.
Gallow looked down at his defeated enemy, and sighed a breath of relief.
“Good thing that worked,” he thought aloud. “Or that would’ve been embarrassing.” With that, he collapsed to the ground.
Janna, still watching out the window from behind an old rocking chair, watched him fall.
“Gallow!” she squealed in her mind.
She ran out from where she was hiding and threw open the front door.
“Janna! What are you doing?!” her father yelled, having finally found his gun. He ran after her into the daylight.
The young girl sprinted as quickly she could in her skirt over to her fallen sheriff. She knelt down and turned his body over.
“Oh no…”
His white undershirt was stained with blood, she pulled it up to examine the damage.
“Janna! Janna!” Eli shouted, running out to meet her, shotgun in hand. “What are you doing?!”
“Dad, it doesn’t look good-” she said frantically. “He’s unconscious with two gunshot wounds, one in the lumbar region and the other in the hypochondriac-”
“What are you trying to say?” he asked anxiously.
“They aren’t fatal, but the limbic wound is worse, he might have serious damage to his left kidney if it isn’t treated properly.”
“Well, how do we get him the treatment, then?!” Eli could understand the special kind of bond she felt for Gallow, as she had never made anything close to a friend in the small town before, and likewise, he had some kind of investment in Gallow’s life as well.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “The only thing I can think of right now is the Spring water, but I don’t know how safe it is to-”
There was a loud, deep screeching sound. The whole world was painted over in a shade of crimson. The force exerted on their souls in that moment was enough to steal Janna’s breath away. Eli staggered to his knee, trying to hold himself up as his legs buckled. When the moment was over, a man stood over all three of them.
“W-who are you?” Janna asked in a quivering voice.
His long gray coat flapped in the wind, ornately stitched with golden roses, a spotless garment in this wasteland of a desert.
“I’m a friend of his.”
Eli got to his feet again and pointed his shotgun at Warren and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“I swear, so help me, if you hurt my daughter or that man, I’ll blow a hole through your chest!!”
Janna looked up at her father with a kind of wonder and admiration. He had toiled in the fields so often, and she felt sometimes like she hated him for not letting her assist. Oftentimes she would think to herself, ‘that dumb old man, why won’t he let me help him? He says he wants me to do what my heart tells me to, but he refuses what I want!’ Now, when they had both been knocked to the ground by this monstrously powerful man, a man who could have killed them without much more than a thought, she saw her father’s true face. Beneath the years of hard work under the sun was the root of his heart and soul: everything he did was because he loved her.
She understood now.
Warren took a step forward. Eli pulled the trigger.
*Bang*
Eli and Janna both looked away; the crack of the shotgun was deafening. When they looked back a second later, Warren was gone.
“Wh-where did he-?” as Janna spoke, she turned to her father and gazed, with horror, at Warren Roseraid’s hand pierced directly through his chest.
Janna shrieked; black terror filled her heart.
Warren’s hand was basked with a glowing red light as he removed it from the wound. Janna collapsed to her knees as Eli did the same. She caught his falling body, barely able to hold his limp form up. Her eyes filled with dry tears, her mouth agape. She wanted to wail, but even that wouldn’t have expressed what she felt
Warren walked calmly around the two and bent down to examine Gallow’s body.
“Don’t be so upset,” he said, soothingly addressing Janna without even looking up at her. “This was always going to happen.”
There was another flash of crimson, and when it passed, both Warren and Gallow had vanished from thin air.