《Goddess' Landing》


 Prologue: The Escape

    ¡°He knew they were coming. He knew, and yet why?¡±


    Ripley¡¯s legs were about to give out as he ran away from his home in the mountains. He didn¡¯t know why, but his gut feeling tells him to run on. His thick hair, trimmed at the sides, gleamed dark green against the blazing sun, and the rag he wore, a large smock used for industry, was getting heavier with sweat.


    An hour ago, he had volunteered to help his father in his smithing work, but from the look of his face, the man clearly did not want his son to help with the hammering of the huge piece of glowing metal.


    ¡°No, son,¡± he said, ¡°You¡¯re not ready yet.¡±


    ¡°But father, what else am I supposed to do? I¡¯ve already finished my chores. I want to help out.¡±


    ¡°No means no. This is supposed to be an artistic piece. This isn¡¯t something for your untrained hands yet. And I still have to finish embossing the general¡¯s armor, which is still not in your level of skill. Besides, you still haven¡¯t recovered yourself from that accident.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s almost healed! I mean, look! I can move my fingers and-¡°


    Ripley wanted to demonstrate his capability by moving the injured arm, which looked fine at first glance until he moved his fingers too fast and winced in pain.


    The older smith shook his head and resumed his work.


    He then suggested, ¡°Since you clearly want to help, why don¡¯t you go out and gather some firewood for the forges? At least you can get some fresh forest air to help heal that arm.¡±


    The young apprentice grumbled, trod outside, and skipped down the rocky slope. As he headed eastward, to the wooden pillars that signify where the conifer forest began, he spotted a weird shape in the distance. He took out his binoculars that he always brings to spot wild animals and the occasional visitor in order to get a closer look.


    Strange men wearing blue were walking towards him, or at least, his direction. They were neatly arranged in two lines, and it appeared that they were going to scale the mountaintop and reach for the other side. And farther on, something else caught Ripley¡¯s attention.


    Near the base of the mountain were two giant humanoid figures, leaving behind them a trail of smoke that hid the view of the desert basin below. He recognized them as Behemoths, a collection of advanced weaponry housed inside a metal body that often resembles a living being. As soon as he saw them, he immediately recognized what the men were.


    The Blue Army of the Bulwark.


    A powerful military force that is the backbone of the large Bulwark Kingdom. Said to have been blessed by the-Goddess-who-disappeared, they push forward into the east in her name, but the constant retaliation of the Shorin continue to stop their advance.


    Ripley rushed back inside the house to tell his father about the coming army. When he told him about what he saw, the smith had a change in his eyes and stopped working. He then hurriedly kept his things and rummaged through his collection of weapons.


    ¡°This is bad. Why now of all days?¡± he panicked. ¡°Has it finally happened?¡±


    ¡°Father, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Ripley asked. ¡°What do you mean, finally happened?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Where is it? Where¡¯s that darned thing?!¡±


    After a few minutes of searching, he found what he was looking for and hurriedly handed it to his son.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Son, listen to me.¡± He said with fear and concern in his eyes. ¡°Take this box and run. Run as far away from here as possible. Whatever you do, do NOT open the box, and do NOT give yourself to the Blue Army. You understand? Don¡¯t ask any more, and don¡¯t you worry about me, just go!¡±


    Ripley wanted to protest, but his father pushed him into a chute and closed the door. He banged against its steel and called out, asking about this commotion, but all he got as a reply was a loud bang, which startled the young smith. A fist-shaped dent can be seen on the door.


    ¡°I know you can¡¯t afford to lose your only family,¡± said the older smith through the gaps. ¡°But I can¡¯t either. I have to do whatever it takes. And you will know why in due time.¡±


    ¡°But, father! What about you?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better if they find one of us sooner than them finding us both later. Now, go! Run away from here!¡±


    And that¡¯s when a group of silhouettes approached the front entrance to the smith¡¯s abode.


    ¡°Earl Nightjar! This is the Blue Army of the Bulwark Kingdom! Surrender yourself, or else we will be forced to exercise extreme measures on you!¡±


    As Ripley slid down the sooty tunnel and out the back, he could hear the sounds of banging and marching, sound of clattering metal and closing cabinets. Outside, he could also see men clad in blue preparing to storm the small shack.


    ¡°Earl Nightjar! This is your final warning! On the count of three, we will break down the door and take you by force. If you¡¯re gonna resist, we will not hesitate to take your life! You have been warned!¡±


    Ripley wanted to know why the Blue Army acted that way towards his father. For all he knew, he had been a smith working under the blue flag, creating swords and armor for the troops. But now, he was retired, and was living a peaceful life with his son.


    And then, he heard the sound of a door creaking and a familiar voice barking.


    ¡°What is it? Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m trying to live in peace?¡±


    A trooper marched forward and spoke as if reading from a script.


    ¡°You have been called out of your retirement to-¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, private. I know what you¡¯re up to. But, no. I¡¯m not gonna go back and finish what I started.¡±


    Just then, Ripley saw the trooper take out his sword and try hitting the man with the pommel, but he was sent flying and his back bumped into a tree trunk.


    ¡°All units, package has retaliated. Initiate suppressive measures.¡±


    And then, sounds of conflict erupted. From what Ripley could tell from the exchange, these men had some unfinished business with the smith, and his father has fought back against them.


    He had deemed the place too dangerous to stay, so Ripley began a mad dash for it, box in tow.


    He ran, and ran, and ran. For the first time in his life, Ripley felt fear. He feared for his life, but worse of all, he feared for his father¡¯s life. He didn¡¯t want to worry about him, as he was able to defend himself against the troopers, but it was a fight involving many, and sooner or later, the old man will tire.


    When he finally descended from the base of the mountain, Ripley could see the Behemoths change position. In the next instant, fire spewed from their backs, and then there was a thundering sound coming from behind him. Fearing for the worst, he forced his legs to continue running and never looked back.


    Until his weary legs finally took him to the nearest town, where he balled himself by the outer wall and sobbed. A few minutes later, a youth with goggles on his messy blonde hair and dusty overalls approached Ripley.


    ¡°Hey, Ripley! What brings you here? Did you run away from home again?¡±


    ¡°Please, Marlowe. Leave me alone,¡± was Ripley¡¯s reply. ¡°I¡¯d rather not talk about it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Still frustrated about another sword you¡¯re making?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that. It¡¯s about my father.¡±


    ¡°Why? Did he give you a hard time again? Come on, Rip. Don¡¯t cry. You¡¯re always like this.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s not what I-¡±


    ¡°Here. Lemme take you to base and let¡¯s talk it out there. I¡¯ve got some news that might interest you.¡±


    And so the youth called Marlowe took the tired Ripley and escorted him to a familiar place.


    The desert town of Outpost was as sleepy as it gets. While it may appear that the town itself was a small collection of shacks with nothing much to look at, its real pride is in its only stone building, the Palmetto. It¡¯s also the largest building in town, spanning five stories with a large thatch roof, which makes the building look like a tropical tree, hence the name.


    As soon as the two entered the building, the entire atmosphere changed. A cacophony of sounds filled the air, the familiar sound of a bustling community. Merchants can be seen selling their wares to the right of them, and to the left was a bar large enough to house its own refinery. It¡¯s as if the building itself can pass for a town entirely on its own.


    The pair headed for Marlowe¡¯s base, or so it¡¯s called, but it was just an ordinary room located in the second floor, the residential area.


    ¡°Okay. You stay here first and calm yourself while I go get the usual, alright? Of course, you¡¯re gonna have to pay for the service fee. Nothing¡¯s free, after all.¡±


    And when Ripley was left alone in the room, he cried himself to sleep.

 1: The Boxs Secret

    When Ripley woke up, the first thing he did was look out the window to tell the time. He saw the setting sun pierce through the clouds, its rays painting the idyllic town a shade of orange. A large sign read ¡°Thanks for visiting Outpost!¡±, which meant he was facing the front gate of the town. Ripley had a lot of fond memories of the town, despite living like a recluse for the most part.


    ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± Marlowe entered the room with a meal tray on hand. ¡°Here you go. Just sit right down and I¡¯ll tell you everything you need to know.¡±


    But just as Marlowe was about to tell Ripley some news, the latter interrupted.


    ¡°Remember the festival ceremony? You know, where we¡¯re supposed to pick our jobs and all?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you held up the line because you couldn¡¯t decide what job you were gonna take, so you settled for smithing. What else were you supposed to choose? It¡¯s your family profession! Anyway, why did you bring it up all of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not often that I come to Outpost to hang out with you and talk about stuff. You know, living here might not be so bad. I¡¯ll try not to bother you too much.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, wait a second. You¡¯re getting all sentimental there, Rip!¡±


    Ripley¡¯s goggled friend tried to break the gloomy atmosphere.


    ¡°Oh, yeah! I just remembered. The Blue Army had finally made their move. They have sent their armies moving across the border. Also, from what I heard, they¡¯re also looking for new recruits. Do you know what that means, Ripley? It means I can finally escape this boring town and go get to see the Capital! Pretty amazing news, huh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that amazing. You don¡¯t know what I¡¯ve been through to get here.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°I saw them from atop. They were marching in this long line. And they brought two Behemoths with them. I didn¡¯t like the sound of it.¡±


    ¡°Wow, Behemoths?! Those hulking masses of metal that walk on two legs? That¡¯s crazy! I mean, we don¡¯t have the firepower to combat them, and we¡¯re not housing any Shorin refugees. Why would they bring those weapons?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But anyway, I told my father about them, and something changed in him, like he¡¯d been waiting for them to come. He hurried and kept all our stuff, all the weapons we¡¯ve been making. I tried to ask him about his connection to the Blue Army, but he wouldn¡¯t tell me. He said I wasn¡¯t ready yet.¡±


    ¡°Come to think of it, the Blue Army might have approached your dad because they probably needed more smiths for their weapons, right? Oh wait, your dad probably worked for them before.¡±


    ¡°I thought so too, but for some reason he didn¡¯t want to join them. He told me to escape and-¡°


    Ripley was about to tell his confidante about the box he was carrying, but he stopped himself and changed the subject a little.


    ¡°I ran and ran, and the next minute, I heard an explosion. I don¡¯t know what happened back there, but all I know is that the Blue Army had used their Behemoth cannons. I¡¯m concerned about my father. He might have been caught in it, or he might have been taken by them.¡±


    And tears started to well in Ripley¡¯s eyes once more.


    ¡°So are you just gonna stay in my bunk and bawl your eyes out, like you always do to every problem you have?¡± Marlowe chided. ¡°This isn¡¯t like that. Face reality, man! What would your dad say if he sees you like that?¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s not here anymore!¡± Ripley shouted, balling his still injured hand. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know what it feels like to lose a parent! You don¡¯t even have one!¡±


    ¡°That, I can admit. But that¡¯s right. I don¡¯t know. But grieving¡¯s not gonna get you anywhere! We don¡¯t even know whether your dad¡¯s dead. And even if he¡¯s alive, I don¡¯t think the Blue Army¡¯s gonna kill him. He¡¯s a smith, after all, and they¡¯re better off using his talents. At least, that¡¯s what I think.¡±


    With his friend¡¯s sentiment, Ripley dried his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re right. Thanks for getting my head straight.¡±


    ¡°I did what I could, Rip, and I¡¯m glad I helped.¡±


    The young smith had trusted the goggled youth since they forged their bond of friendship, and that bond was still holding for as long as they could remember. Ripley saw his best friend as the closest thing he had to family, aside from his father who was mostly a stern figure.


    ¡°So, what are you gonna do now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t really thought it through, but there¡¯s a lot I want to know.¡±


    Ripley took out the box and put it on his lap, which caused Marlowe¡¯s eyes to shine like diamonds.


    ¡°Ooh, a shiny! What¡¯s inside?!¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t opened it yet, and I don¡¯t think I should. Father¡¯s wish.¡±


    ¡°Aw, what¡¯s the harm in that? Locked boxes are meant to be opened, you know.¡±


    ¡°And there¡¯s a reason they¡¯re locked in the first place. But knowing you, I should probably open it anyway, since you¡¯ll just annoy me to no end. Just not here.¡±


    ¡°I guess you¡¯re right. I think I know the perfect place to open it,¡± said the goggled youth. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the research facility and see what we can find out.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just some hole in the ground you just for one of your pets?¡±


    ¡°Not that research facility! And that was a grave!¡±


    The two exited the Palmetto and entered one of the shacks that litter the town. Marlowe took one of the wooden floorboards, revealing a set of stairs that led to a room larger than the original shack. A large table sat at the center of the room, and the walls were littered with a bunch of maps and other scraps of paper that held some sort of information. There were also shelves filled with, aside from books, dust and cobwebs, as well as some fixtures that collected the same.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    This was the Research Facility, and the two discovered it a few months ago, when Marlowe was chased around town for some stolen fruit. Ripley thought it was more appropriate to call it the War Room, but Marlowe claimed ownership, thus staking the naming rights.


    ¡°So,¡± Ripley asked, ¡°where are the lockpicks?¡±


    ¡°Hold on. They¡¯re probably right here,¡± Marlowe replied and dug under the overalls until a metal ring holding an assortment of keys was found, and he casually tossed it to the boy holding the box.


    The box, in question, was an ornate-looking case made of wood, with the Bulwark emblem carved on the hinged lid. Its construction was solid and clearly not meant to be opened forcefully, as Ripley and Marlowe were trying to do.


    The first thing Ripley did was slip a lockpick into the keyhole, and jiggle it a bit, hoping the motion would trigger the lock and open the box. But after 6 broken lockpicks, Marlowe took over. After half an hour of lockpicking, he threw in the towel.


    ¡°That¡¯s the last of it,¡± said the lockpick expert in a frustrated manner. ¡°34 broken lockpicks, 7 broken knives, and not an opened box.¡±


    ¡°Is the locking mechanism really that intricate?¡± asked the owner of the box.


    ¡°Even when forced, it wouldn¡¯t budge. Why don¡¯t we just break it? It¡¯s easier.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just mad it broke all most of your collection.¡±


    ¡°I sure am!¡± And Marlowe threw the box to the ground in a fit of rage. But something weird happened as it hit the floor.


    A shockwave threw the two across the room and knocked the air out of their lungs.


    ¡°Whoa, what happened?¡±


    ¡°You know what, Marlowe? This isn¡¯t just some random box. The lock is actually enforced with magic.¡±


    ¡°No kidding. How else did it knock us off?!¡±


    The pair stood up and approached the wooden box, which was now emanating a wispy blue glow.


    ¡°Must have been a barrier spell set on the box to prevent it from getting broken,¡± Ripley mused. ¡°Father wasn¡¯t really kidding about not opening it.¡±


    ¡°First it broke most of my lockpicks, and now it broke most of my ribs! What¡¯s it gonna break next, I wonder?!¡±


    ¡°Take it easy. I¡¯m trying to figure something.¡±


    ¡°Good luck on that,¡± Marlowe commented, ¡°or it¡¯s probably gonna break your head next.¡±


    ¡°Most spells are far from perfect,¡± thought Ripley out loud. ¡°Only the Goddess is able to cast perfect magic, which means this spell can be sabotaged.¡±


    Ripley pondered on the use of a spell on the box. Magic, in and of itself, used to exist in myth for the most part, and in those tales, the Goddess was said to be the sole proprietor of magic, turning the once barren Earth into a green paradise.


    In recent time, which was at least one hundred years ago, the Goddess decided to imbue the gift of magic to mankind before disappearing, but they are far from reaching the level of skill she was able to do. In other words, only a select few can truly cast magic beyond the simplest spells.


    The young smith was actually taught by his father about magic, as it was a necessary craft to learn, according to him. They even went as far as covering lattice-matrix patterns and whatever foreign-sounding term it was to the layman, but all he can ever master was a strengthen spell and a barrier spell.


    Which was exactly what the spell on the lock was, and he knew what to do.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna need some liquid mana for this. I¡¯m going to overload the spell circuit on this lock.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Marlowe gasped. ¡°But it¡¯s dangerous! You know how volatile liquid mana is when exposed to the air!¡±


    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. You do have a vial on you, right?¡±


    Marlowe hesitated, but after some deliberation, he reached into the overalls to pick up a vial of glowing blue liquid. Ripley doubted that his friend had any liquid mana, or anything magic-related for that matter, but he didn¡¯t care as long as the needed material was on hand. Besides, Marlowe was an expert thief. Who knows what¡¯s under the baggy overalls?


    Ripley then slowly poured the viscous liquid on the box, and the reason for Marlowe¡¯s worries were becoming obvious. As he said, liquid mana evaporates when exposed to air, creating aether, which wasn¡¯t a dangerous gas. But often, the liquid evaporates so fast that it would cause an explosion, and an aether explosion can cause burns more serious than a normal burn.


    As Ripley poured, he prayed to the Goddess for forgiveness, as he was about to tarnish the ritual it took to create the spell. Electric sparks started to fly as the drops of mana landed on the lock, which was starting to glow hot. He hesitated for a few seconds to stabilize the reaction before pouring some more, until a sound of breaking glass could be heard, indicating that the vial was empty, followed by a fizzling sound, indicating the deactivation of the spell.


    His handiwork was shoddy. Burn marks could be seen on the box, signs of the reaction of volatile chemicals. Marlowe emerged from the improvised hiding spot that was the bookshelf, and Ripley sat down, shoulders slumped as the work had finally been done.


    ¡°Did that do it?¡± asked Marlowe sheepishly.


    ¡°I think so,¡± was Ripley¡¯s reply, still gasping for breath. ¡°That took some concentration. It was a mid-tier, three-layered barrier spell. I was afraid that one vial might not be enough.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you only needed that one small tube. It took me five whole weeks to refine.¡±


    ¡°But you still have more on you, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving you any more than what you¡¯ve asked. I was gonna sell these for a fortune! And now, I¡¯m one vial short of a dozen!¡±


    The place smelled of ozone and fresh alcohol, the aroma wafting through their noses. The blue glow on the box was getting fainter and fainter by the second.


    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Marlowe was getting excited. ¡°Go on, open it!¡±


    ¡°What do you think this is, my birthday?¡± Ripley joked and carefully reached for the lid, as it was still hot from the reaction.


    Inside the now-ruined box was a burnt envelope and a piece of cloth that was covering an object. When Ripley took off the cloth, he could find below the object a bunch of documents. But the documents and the envelope were the least of their concerns. It was the contraption at the center.


    ¡°What is that? A hammer?¡±


    ¡°Looks too strange for a hammer.¡±


    The hammer had a curved head, a complex mechanism, and a hollow handle. For something as strange as a pocketwatch, Ripley and Marlowe didn¡¯t think that this was a child¡¯s toy or a smith¡¯s tool. Stumped as to what the object was for, they set it aside and reached for the paperwork.


    ¡°Why would father hide a clockwork hammer from the Blue Army?¡±


    ¡°You should read the letter first. It says Nightjar on it,¡± Marlowe suggested.


    Ripley took the envelope¡¯s contents, and sure enough, Marlowe was right. It¡¯s a letter addressed to him, and it read as followed:


    To Ripley:


    If you¡¯re reading this letter, it means two things,


    One, that I have failed to protect the one thing that I had sworn to protect, and two, that you disobeyed me.


    I was supposed to give you this as a gift in your inaugural ceremony. I wanted to congratulate you for turning into a working-class citizen the moment you decided to become a Nightjar smith. But I felt that you still were not up to the challenge. Your musclework leaves a lot to be desired, and your skills in the martial arts and smithing business need polish.


    But now, in the worst possible time, the Blue Army had decided to take me back, in order to complete my service to the kingdom. All my life I have worked for the Bulwark, but after the death of your mother, I decided to leave them to raise you, my son. I hope I did my best as a father.


    There¡¯s some documents that I placed in this very box, as well as a tool, a relic from a bygone era. Use it as you will. However, you must not let anyone else get their hands on it, for it will forever change everything you know about the world. Or maybe you already know¡­


    ¡°A relic from a bygone era? Does that mean anything to you?¡± Ripley turned to his companion, who was busy reading the documents that were scattered on the floor.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°But after reading this manual, I know exactly what that hammer thing is. For one thing, it¡¯s not a hammer.¡±

 2: The Encounter

    ¡°Why do I have to wear this costume?¡± Ripley grumbled.


    The blonde in the overalls admired the new Nightjar smith, who had changed from his daily rags into a long-sleeved buttoned shirt, desert-colored trousers, and leather shoes. They had found the set in the War Room, and it came with a leather belt that slung from the shoulder to the waist.


    ¡°Well,¡± Marlowe beamed, ¡°I think since you¡¯re the owner of something from the old times, you might as well look the part. It¡¯s a shame I couldn¡¯t find the hat.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a hat too?!¡±


    ¡°Anyway. To review. Your dad once worked for the Bulwark but decided to run away and live a peaceful life with you, his son. And now, the Blue Army has got him. He also left you with a magic-enchanted box that apparently only you can open, and inside was the relic and a manual on how to use it. And now you¡¯re getting back at them bystorming their place to rescue your dad?¡±


    ¡°It might sound ambitious, but at least I gotta try,¡± Ripley declared.


    ¡°As dangerous and stupid as it may sound, count me in!¡± Marlowe agreed enthusiastically. ¡°I want to see you square off against the Blue Army.¡±


    For some reason, Ripley felt braver. While he knew it was the complete opposite of what his father told him, but with theclockwork hammer in his possession, he thought that he can use it as a bargaining chip. He would rather have his father, even if it meant living in a dungeon cell with him. That, or the aether from the unlocking got into his brain and warped his way of thinking.


    ¡°Well, we better restock ourselves first,¡± Marlowe proposed. ¡°It¡¯s already dark, and it would be better if we leave at first light with a fresh outlook of everything.¡±


    ¡°Do you have the money for such supplies?¡±


    ¡°Trust me. I can handle it. You can wait in the usual place.¡±


    ¡°Just don¡¯t come back there with nothing but bruises on your face and cuts on your limbs.¡±


    But as the two headed for the Palmetto, Ripley spotted a glint in the cover of night. It was a glint that he recognized all too well. To the naked eye, it was only a speck of light, but thanks to the aether, his eyesight allowed him to discern a familiar shape.


    ¡°Hey, you!¡± Ripley called out, and the tall figure turned around and approached him.


    Against the bright visage of the Palmetto, he looked menacing, but he answered with a voice of playfulness. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°That sword, where did you get that?¡± Ripley asked. He was starting to get furious.


    ¡°I found it in some wreck in the mountain just northeast of here. Why?¡±


    Upon hearing the words wreck and mountain, Ripley¡¯s temper flew.


    ¡°That¡¯s the work of the Nightjar household! In other words, my sword!¡±


    ¡°Whoa there, little one,¡± The man stopped the irked boy. ¡°What Nightjar household? Sorry, dude, but I have this little policy of mine. It says ¡®finders keepers¡¯. Ever heard of it?¡±


    ¡°You may have picked it up someplace, but that¡¯s still my sword! No one picks up a Nightjar sword and gets away with it!¡±


    ¡°Well, the Blue Army may have,¡± remarked Marlowe.


    ¡°You¡¯re not helping!¡± Ripley barked back. He turned back to the sword thief. ¡°Each Nightjar sword has a six-layer enchantment to prevent theft, and only my father and those of his bloodline can unlock it. And before he sells the sword to the customer, he never releases the lock, but adds the customer¡¯s mana signature to it so that he and he alone can use it. If he didn¡¯t, the customer¡¯s arm would get zapped, or worse, explode. So tell me. How are you able to bypass the magic lock on the sword?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about there,¡± he scratched his head, ¡°So I can¡¯t answer that question. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±


    And he turned his back on the two and left.


    But Ripley wasn¡¯t going to let him get away.


    Still intoxicated with aether, he brandished the relic from his waist and pointed it at the sword thief.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare move from that spot! Or you¡¯ll suffer the consequences!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing, Ripley?!¡± Marlowe called out worriedly. ¡°A sword¡¯s nothing to get angry about!¡±


    ¡°No, but he might as well steal my life, and I can¡¯t have that.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± The man laughed. ¡°Aren¡¯t you getting ahead of yourself? I can sense some aether particles on you and your friend there.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah? How would you know?¡± Ripley pressed on, pointing the relic at the man.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I don¡¯t just know, I have felt it before. It feels good doesn¡¯t it? That rush of energy may give your mind a boost, but it will ruin you if your mind is weak. I¡¯ve seen people turn into monsters after whiffing the blue smoke for weeks. But don¡¯t worry. Your friend has already recovered from it. Not sure about you, though.¡±


    ¡°Say what you will, but upon my pride, I will not give you that sword.¡±


    ¡°Listen to yourself, Ripley!¡± Marlowe implored. ¡°You¡¯re not like this! It¡¯s the aether from before! That relic you¡¯re holding is dangerous, not just to him, but to you too! You can kill someone with it!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s he gonna do with that tiny hammer? Throw it?¡± the shadow ridiculed. ¡°If he¡¯s gonna throw it at me, he¡¯s holding it the wrong way!¡±


    It certainly seemed that way, as the young smith was holding the hammer by the head and not the handle that was currently free and pointed at the man, but Ripley and Marlowe knew better.


    Below the supposed head was a complex mechanism comprised of two finger levers and a chamber with six hollows, all filled with special nails that they came with the box they had opened.


    Without hesitation, Ripley pushed at the lever located below the chamber, and a sound louder than thunder cracked the night¡¯s silence. The force on Ripley¡¯s hand almost knocked the relic in the air, but it stayed on thanks to a firm grip.


    ¡°You were saying?¡± Ripley smirked. He could not see the face of the man, but he thought the action earlier gave him a shock.


    ¡°Fine,¡± the man sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this, but I will have to knock you off your stupor.¡±


    He readied himself and pulled the sword from his back. The Nightjar sword started to emanate a blue glow.


    ¡°Wait, that crest¡­ Ripley! He¡¯s from the Blue Army!¡± Marlowe warned, and Ripley let loose another blast from his weapon.


    But the target rapidly changed stance, holding the Nightjar sword as a shield to defend himself from the blast, but while it was a strange gesture that seemed to do little in terms of defense, it did the job. A faint sheen had covered him, rippling like water as something small appeared to hit it.


    The man had erected a barrier, which didn¡¯t sit well with the irked shooter.


    ¡°Close,¡± he spoke, ¡°but no. I have nothing to do with them. I have split my ties with them a long time ago. Right now, I¡¯m a mercenary.¡±


    And he closed the distance by dashing forward. Ripley attempted to create some more distance by releasing a volley of blasts, but the man weaved between them, running in a zigzag pattern.


    Marlowe also tried to help Ripley create some distance by throwing whatever he pulled out of the overalls, but the man hacked and slashed his way through the projectiles. When he noticed that he had nothing else to lob at the dangerous individual, he desperately pulled outthe blue vials, all eleven on them.


    The mercenary did a strong, horizontal sweep, slashing all the vials, and a puff of blue smoke had covered him, instantly erupting into a blue flame in the next second.


    But as they swirled and burned, they gathered in a single spot and had engulfed the Nightjar sword. With another sweep, an arc of blue flame shot forward, heading towards the twoopponents. Ripley and Marlowe jumped in opposite directions and dodged the flame arc, which hit a shack and erupted in a bright, blue light.


    ¡°How did he do that?!¡± the one with the goggles quickly stood up. ¡°And that was all of my vials!¡±


    ¡°A lesson in magic, young one,¡± the swordsman explained. ¡°While it¡¯s true that liquid mana explodes in contact with air, you can attune it if you¡¯re skillful enough and then you can use it for your own spell!¡±


    ¡°Shit, he¡¯s a magician as well!¡± Ripley cursed as he lay down in the dirt.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± questioned the magic mercenary, swinging the sword back into his back. ¡°Or should I say, down? I¡¯m gonna say that it¡¯s a loss on your part. And with that, I¡¯m gonna leave. The sword is mine, and that¡¯s that.¡±


    After a few paces, while the swordsman¡¯s back was turned, Ripley crawled and used the clockwork hammer to fire some more, but instead of a loud bang, he heard a click. He continued to push at the lever a few more times, but nothing happened.


    ¡°Like I said, nobody steals a Nightjar sword and gets away with it!¡±


    He shouted, and prayed to the goddess to smite down the man who casually picked up a sword from the wreckage that was once his own home. His prayer was immediately answered.


    The magic swordsman collapsed, curling his leg as he howled in pain.


    ¡°What was that?! You actually hit my leg!¡± he cried out. ¡°You didn¡¯t use any dirty tricks with that hammer, did you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an old relic called a revolver,¡± Marlowe replied. ¡°Basically, it fires a metal projectile at the speed of sound, and you can clearly see the damage on your leg. How did you not feel any pain earlier?¡±


    ¡°He cast a basic enhancement spell on him,¡± Ripley explained this time. ¡°It boosts his senses and inhibits pain. Sometimes, it can boost speed and strength.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± the mercenary complimented him, but he shrugged it off as he wrenched off the sword on his back.


    ¡°The magic lock seems intact,¡± Ripley examined the sword. ¡°I¡¯m gonna ask you again. How did you bypass it?¡±


    ¡°I honestly have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    And Ripley pressed on the mercenary¡¯s wound, which caused him to scream.


    ¡°Okay, okay. You really want to know? I just picked it up in the mountains! As soon as I touched the sword, I felt a spark, so I overloaded the spell circuit with my mana! Honest! That¡¯s all I know!¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t he do the exact same thing you did on that box?¡± Marlowe wondered.


    ¡°What?! But that was smalltime compared to this sword. This requires ten men¡¯s worth of mana to overload just half of the lock!¡± Ripley exclaimed. ¡°Not to mention he was able to reroute the aether explosion on the sword and create a fire spell out of it! Without incantations!¡±


    ¡°Incantations are bad! They complicate spells!¡± the mercenary smugly responded.


    This man was no ordinary man, they both thought. He was clearly older than them by a few years, his sharp gaze countered by a constant grin and his red hair, spiky and neatly parted to one side, was now mixed with desert dust, but for someone so young, he was able to counter the heavy lock on the Nightjar sword.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Ripley gazed at him. ¡°You can keep the sword.¡±


    ¡°Wow, really? You should¡¯ve just let me go! Why did you have to injure my leg?!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t even lift the sword off your back! The lock my father set is just too strong! But I still stand by what I said earlier. You will not walk away with that sword¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s gonna limp away with it,¡± Marlowe offhandedly commented.


    ¡°¡­unless you pay its price,¡± the young smith completed his sentence. ¡°And you have paid it with your leg. Well, almost.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked the mercenary.


    ¡°You¡¯re a mercenary, right? For today onwards, you¡¯re working for me. Consider that sword my payment to you!¡±


    ¡°Hold on. Are you joking?¡±


    ¡°In exchange for allowing you to wield a Nightjar sword, you are going to accompany me to rescue my father. He¡¯s the only one who can unlock it. I¡¯ll explain more in the Palmetto. You need to heal that leg of yours.¡±


    The young smith turned around and headed for the large building, but as soon as he took a step forward, he staggered and collapsed on the desert floor.

 3: The Mercenary

    Ripley had a strange dream.


    He dreamt he was part of a Blue Army squadron ten thousand strong. Behind him, Ten Behemoths that resembled knights in armor stood, arms crossed and holding a sword in each hand. Before him, a vast plain stretched as far as he could see, and a thick red line marked the boundary between land and sky. Wooden watchtowers can also be seen dotting the horizon line in intervals.


    As he waited for the inevitable charge, his fellow soldiers readied their weapons and prayed. He could hear some of them mutter prayers for their family, for protection, and of course, for victory against their enemies. Not being as zealous as they are, the young smith simply watched on.


    Meanwhile, the sea of red grass was starting to get closer, their war drums and battle cries echoing across the plain. In response, someone from behind Ripley sounded a horn. He looked back, and he could see a floating platform. It emitted a beam of light, which formed a human face.


    The face said, "Soldiers of Bulwark, this is your captain speaking. Today marks a historic day. Even if you fall in battle, you have done your kingdom a great favor, by protecting its borders against the infidel, and in doing so, you have done whatever it is you have wished. Some of you may have joined us for your families, some of you might have joined for the thrill of battle. Today, we will have it. For the Goddess!"


    Having finished its speech, the face disappeared, and the soldiers of the Blue Army rallied forth.


    "Artillery, ready!" shouted one of the soldiers right next to Ripley, possibly someone of high-rank.


    The ten Behemoths moved in response, sheathing their swords as they lumbered forward. A blue light emerged from their backs, collecting in a single place. The mass of light then shot itself forward, towards the red sea. However, the sea changed color as if in a wave. The mass of light made impact, and a crater was left in its wake.


    As if to answer the attack, the sea changed color once more, returning to its red hue. After a series of undulations, the sky darkened, and without delay, the high-ranking soldier barked a new order.


    "Barriers!"


    And the entire Blue Army, Ripley included, raised their swords in unison, chanting a prayer of protection as they did. A layer of glass encapsulated just above their heads, defending against the shower of arrows that rained down upon them. However, some arrows were able to penetrate the barrier, hitting their marks as they did so.


    Then, the barrier shattered. Upon seeing their first line of defense breached, the soldiers charged into battle. Ripley could finally see his enemy up close. What appeared as a red sea of grass was actually an assemblage of the Blue Army''s enemy.


    Thy call themselves the Shorin, and from what he had read about, they were nothing more than a primitive peoples who sully the name of the-Goddess-who-disappeared, and eradicating them from the face of the Earth was the Bulwark''s primary goal.


    The battlefield had already descended into chaos, as Bulwark and Shorin were locked in combat. But this was nothing compared to what Ripley saw in the next few minutes.


    The sky darkened, but not because the Shorin let loose their arrows. It''s as if the sky itself was ripped off, the white of clouds contrasting the dead of night. On the night side, Ripley could see two suns, and as one of them burned off, the night sky keeled over and descended on the battlefield, crashing straight on top of where he was standing.


    That''s when he woke up with a start.


    "Good, you''re finally awake," The first person to greet the young smith was a young mercenary. His leg had been bandaged, and he was lazing off in a hammock of his own making.


    "W-who are you and whatare you doing here?!" Ripley was startled upon seeing him. "And where''s Marlowe?"


    "That''s the first thing you''d ask? You hired me, remember? So it''s natural for me to stay in my ward''s room. Oh, and you''re friend is out catching breakfast."


    "Wait a sec, I don''t remember hiring you! I don''t even know your name!"


    "Must be the aftereffects of aether. Often, those who take it lose their memory from a few hours to a few weeks, depending on the dose. I sure hope you''re not a junkie. Anyway, name''s Lou. Pleasure to meet you, boss."


    "Yeah, uhh, I''m Ripley. Nice to meet you."


    And the young man stretched out his hand to greet the bewildered smith.


    "You did a number on my leg here. Made a hole so clean you can see through it. It''s a miracle it missed a bone and some blood vessels."


    "Yeah, umm, sorry about the leg," Ripley awkwardly apologized for something he couldn''t remember.


    "Don''t be. I probably deserved it."


    A youthful chuckle came out of the mercenary, clearly enjoying his time talking to the young smith.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    After a few minutes of silence, the mercenary going by the name of Lou broke the ice once more.


    "Not much of a talker, huh? Well, it can''t be helped. Maybe you''d like to know what happened while you were out."


    "I- I would, please."


    "Never thought you''d ask. Now where do we begin?"


    Lou recounted the events of the battle he had with the two boys. After Ripley fell on the desert floor, the effects of the aether getting to him according to Lou, he and Marlowe brought him inside the Palmetto, into Marlowe''s room.


    "I gotta tell you, your friend there was very worried about you. You had the first stages of aether sickness, after all. You were sweating buckets, and it also looked like you were having visions."


    "Visions? Like the dream I had last night?"


    "Maybe. But I''m not gonna ask you about it. It''s not like you can remember all of it. It probably contains trivial things."


    "But mine''s not trivial. I dreamt of a war."


    "Yeah, who doesn''t dream of a large scale war in this forsaken place?"


    Ripley stopped himself from complaining, seeing that the mercenary appeared to speak from experience.


    "Anyways," Lou continued. "Your friend told me to cure the sickness you have. He was all ''you have to cure him. You''re a magician. Do something'' and I was all ''I know the sickness, but I''m no doctor. Hell, if doctors knew of a cure-all spell, then the world would be a better place now, ain''t it? But that''s not really the case.'' He was fuming, and he stormed off someplace."


    The best Ripley could do was nod.


    "So tell me, Ripley, was it? Do you regularly sniff aether?"


    Faced with that sudden question, Ripley was shocked.


    "What?! No, why?"


    "How did you even get a whiff of the stuff, anyway?" Lou leaned over, eager to listen to Ripley''s side of the story.


    "Well, my father gave me a box with a magic seal on it, and I used a mana potion to overload the circuit."


    "Ooh, ingenious. Must have cost you a fortune to buy a single vial, eh?"


    "No, Marlowe gave me one. He has a lot of them on him. Sometimes, he would give me some so that I could practice magic."


    "You practice magic?" the mercenary almost jumped from shock. "That''s very strange. Normally, you only hear of aspiring magicians in the Capital, but from the edge of the desert basin? Whoa. It''s no wonder you know a lot about magic seals and whatnot."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Well, for starters, magic''s rare. It''s not really something you can teach to anyone. The Capital does checks on children to see if they harbor any potential, and those that do are carried off to the Goddess'' temple, where they''ll train for at least 10 years. When they reach adolescence, the chosen ones are asked to pick their magical discipline. Some go for the development of new spells, but most choose to use their magic in service of the Goddess. Then again, those that do end up serving Her go outside and join the Blue Army."


    "Using magic in service of the Goddess? How do you even do that? She''s disappeared after giving this skill to the human race." Ripley voiced his doubts. "I mean, don''t get me wrong. It''s not that I don''t believe in Her, but are they really expecting Her return? Isn''t just using Her gift to us enough to honor Her?"


    "I have no idea either, but don''t take it too personally, kid. It''s not like everyone in the Capital is as devout as the Head Priests, and you''re beginning to sound like them. You should probably join them sometime, give them a heads up."


    "Ah- No, I can''t." The young smith shook his head and panicked. "I still have a lot to learn about the Goddess. I only know as much as what my father told me about the history of magic."


    "Aren''t you being too humble? Come on, let me see what you can do. Show me your magic."


    The mercenary pushed him on, and Ripley stood up from the bed. He made sure there were no obstructions around the room, and when he was done checking, he stood at the center. Lou simply watched from the side, curious about the potential magician from the edge of the desert.


    The young smith closed his eyes and concentrated, clearing his mind. It''s the first step in casting a magic spell, since the mind is the key tool in the manipulation of mana, the basic element of magic. As his father puts it, ''the clearer the mind, the more effective the spell,'' and a stray thought would simply impede the casting process.


    Then, the surrounding air swirled, and Ripley was emitting a faint, blue glow around him. This indicated that he had attuned his mana signature to the surroundings, and now, he was ready to cast. He stretched out his hand, and silently chanted a prayer.


    "Oh Goddess of the Earth who hath blessed this land, may you shield me from my enemies and protect me from harm''s way."


    A luminous, square sheet appeared from Ripley''s outstretched palm, growing in diameter as the seconds passed by. Once it reached a certain size, a second square appeared inside it. This continued on until the sheet encompassed the entire room, and a series of concentric squares were visible on it, forming a rose-like pattern.


    "Not bad," Lou clapped at the spectacle. "It took you about 20 seconds to make that six-layered barrier. Honestly, I think you could do better than that."


    And he hopped down from his hammock, stood beside Ripley and mimicked his pose, an as soon as he did, the same barrier formed on the mercenary''s hand. What shocked the young smith was that his barrier, also a six-layered one, formed the very instant Lou stretched out his hand. This shocked him so much that his own barrier broke, and the feedback knocked him off balance.


    "Don''t feel bad," the mercenary reassured Ripley and picked him up. "You still have a lot of room to make up for. You''re still young, after all."


    "Were you just trying to show off your superior skill?" he answered back with a tinge of jealousy.


    "You got me there," Lou laughed. "I can admit, though. You can''t reach my level of casting. But if you''d like I can help you cast faster. Maybe have your friend join."


    "Thanks, but Marlowe can''t cast magic for some reason."


    "Are you guys talking about me?" Marlowe entered the room, mealtray on hand. As soon as he saw Ripley up and about, he set down the tray and rushed to and asked a barrage of questions about his health.


    "Yeah, I''m fine. I''m fine. Geez, Marlowe. You sound like a mother." Ripley furrowed his eyebrows.


    "Good," Lou stretched out his back. "Now that we''re all here, what say we finish breakfast and head back to where I found this sword?"


    "Like right now?" Marlowe exclaimed.


    "Yeah. You know, the sooner, the better. We might even come across the Blue Army before they even get to the Capital."


    "But why?" Ripley questioned the mercenary. "Why would go this far to help me? I''m not even sure if I did the things you said I did."


    "You don''t have to think about it, kid. You hired me to rescue your dad, and that''s all that matters right now. And you want to see for yourself, don''t you? What happened to your house?"


    With that said, Lou grabbed a plate from the mealtray, picked up the Nightjar sword sitting at the corner of the room, and headed outside.


    "That guy sure is strange," Marlowe remarked. "His leg''s not even fully healed yet. What were you two doing?"

 4: The Search

    After a full-course meal and a recall of events courtesy of the goggled youth, Ripley felt more at ease. However, a feeling of doubt still lingered within him. The dream he had, Lou had stated, was a vision, and from his tone, he couldn¡¯t help but think there¡¯s more to it than meets the eye. Could it be a future event, or a recollection of the past?


    Also, Lou¡¯s skill in the magical arts was simply outstanding, and it wasn¡¯t just from casting a strong barrier instantly. From what Marlowe had told him, he had thrown all his vials of mana at the mercenary, but he quickly turned the tide by attuning his own mana signature at the aether cloud and he used it for his own spell.


    Who was he, really? Why did he defect from the Blue Army? And how did he attain a high mastery in magic?


    But as the three were trudging along the desert path, his train of thought was broken when he overheard a conversation between Lou the mercenary and Marlowe, who was acting as a crutch.


    ¡°So what were you guys taking about while I was away?¡± the boy in the overalls asked.


    ¡°Nothing much,¡± answered the mercenary. ¡°It¡¯s stuff you already know. I was gonna ask you about where you got your supply of mana potions. Those things are hard to come by.¡±


    ¡°Hmmhmm,¡± Marlowe puffed out his chest. ¡°It¡¯s a trade secret.¡±


    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want to tell me? Alright, lemme guess. Underground dealings with a cartel?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± the youth smugly challenged him.


    ¡°Extreme barter with a dealer?¡±


    ¡°Nope, try again.¡±


    ¡°You prostituted yourself?¡±


    ¡°Wha-?!¡± Marlowe¡¯s smug aura was replaced with embarrassment. ¡°What do you take me for?! I wouldn¡¯t stoop so low!¡±


    ¡°With a body like yours, you could probably get a vial, probably more if you wore a dress. It¡¯s amazing how some people trade weird things for other weird things these days.¡±


    The flustered Marlowe threw a punch towards Lou, who easily caught it.


    ¡°Looks like I was right on the money, eh?¡±


    ¡°Not! Even! Close!¡± Marlowe threw a punch for every word uttered. But the mercenary had the upper hand.


    ¡°No need to be so touchy, little dude. I was just guessing.¡± Lou shrugged as he defended himself from Marlowe¡¯s useless attacks.


    ¡°Ripley! Do something!¡±


    ¡°Marlowe cuts himself and extracts the mana from his blood,¡± the young smith offhandedly spoke, upon which he was tackled by a raging Marlowe.


    ¡°He does?¡± Lou wondered, then turned to the goggled youth to warn him. ¡°But that¡¯s dangerous, especially for someone as young as you. Not only are you wearing out your blood, you¡¯re also wearing out your soul.¡±


    ¡°But how else can I earn my keep? It¡¯s not like I can steal all the time.¡±


    ¡°Life in the desert¡¯s harsh, but the people of Outpost can get by through trade,¡± Ripley explained. ¡°We¡¯ve had each other¡¯s backs since we were young. Father even considered adopting Marlowe as a second son, but he turned it down.¡±


    ¡°Because smithing¡¯s not my thing.¡± Marlowe added. ¡°And freedom is much better.¡±


    ¡°Hear, hear,¡± Lou cheered.


    ¡°But,¡± Marlowe continued. ¡°I really can¡¯t thank Mr. Nightjar enough. That¡¯s why I¡¯ll help Ripley rescue him.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Marlowe.¡± said the young smith. He felt reassured that Marlowe is by his side, and with the magic swordsman and the clockwork hammer, he felt that nothing can stop him. But only if the cloud of doubt in his mind would go away.


    ¡°So,¡± Marlowe asked. ¡°How are we going to go about on this rescue mission of yours?¡±


    ¡°Allow me to answer that,¡± Lou turned to answer him. ¡°First we look for clues where the Blue Army is headed and follow them there. If we can¡¯t find anything, we head for the Capital.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not hunting boar! And how exactly are we gonna go to the Capital, Mr. Mercenary? It¡¯s well away from Outpost! The journey would take months on foot! You¡¯d have to cross the desert basin, and then cross a mountain range!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s best you worry about that later. We¡¯re here.¡±


    They arrived at the spot where the Blue Army attacked. It was the smith¡¯s house, but it was unrecognizable from before. One half was sliced off, exposing the interior, which looked unscathed.


    The three hurried to the site, with Ripley heading further inside. His gaze darted back and forth as he examined every nook and cranny of his home. Pieces of wood and metalwork lay strewn across the floor, scratches and burns covered the walls, but strangely enough, his own room was left unharmed.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Ripley hurried inside and checked if his things were still in order, and sure enough, they were. He packed a set of clothes and a few books for the journey ahead, since living in a ruined house would only invite trouble.


    When he headed outside, the other two who were doing their own time observing the wreckage greeted him and checked if he was having a sentimental moment inside, to which he simply said, ¡°I¡¯m fine now. I¡¯ve already made up my mind.¡± This reassured Marlowe, his confidante.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Lou examined the perimeter. ¡°Alright, good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?¡±


    ¡°Wait, you don¡¯t want to hear about my story?¡± Ripley voiced his concern.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Your friend already told me enough. Anyway, I think your father is alive and well. Though the place is rather noisy, I can still feel traces of his mana signature around this place.¡±


    ¡°How do you know this? And what do you mean by noisy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s best if I show you. Project!¡±


    As soon as he declared it, the air around him swirled.


    Ghostly images littered the ruined house, like running ink on water. Trails of wispy blue ribboned all around them. Ripley saw the path of various creatures, as well as glowing prints on the ground emanating a faint blue light.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± asked Marlowe.


    ¡°It¡¯s a projection spell,¡± Ripley explained. ¡°Anything living leaves some sort of mana footprint on the aether, but it¡¯s invisible to the naked eye. A projection spell makes those trails visible.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s not all that it does, kid.¡± Lou added. ¡°This is a more advanced projection spell that can show you what happened earlier, but you¡¯d have to know how to read mana signatures.¡±


    ¡°It really feels like hunting a boar,¡± Marlowe remarked. ¡°And I thought you said incantations are bad. Why did you shout ¡®Project!¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s cooler that way?¡±


    Lou waved his arm, and the mana trails swirled once more, as if time rewound itself. The tumult only slowed down once he was close to the particular time frame of the incident.


    ¡°See that? That¡¯s me taking out the sword. As you can see, there was no one around in the area.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, you really were telling the truth there,¡± remarked Marlowe.


    ¡°Can you go farther back?¡± Ripley requested.


    ¡°Sure thing, boss.¡± And Lou waved his arm once more, but the further they went back in time, the fainter the images glowed. ¡°Ah, the signature¡¯s almost gone, but the spell¡¯s still got it.¡±


    But just as Lou was about to get to where they were headed, a blinding blue haze covered the parade of ghostly lights.


    ¡°Argh,¡± Lou exclaimed and shut down the spell. ¡°I was so close. No wonder there¡¯s a lot of noise around this place.¡±


    ¡°Why? What happened back there?¡±


    ¡°Someone fired a mana missile around here. A really strong one. Not only can it act as a damaging projectile, it can also act as a smokescreen for scryers.¡±


    ¡°That must¡¯ve been from the Behemoths,¡± Ripley surmised.


    ¡°I figured as much,¡± Lou clicked his tongue. ¡°But it would be strange for them to waste a shot on a small shack as this. Not to mention that they should¡¯ve hit it squarely to erase the evidence. Just who was your father, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t he already tell you?¡± Marlowe reminded him. ¡°You¡¯re holding a Nightjar sword, and there¡¯s no other smith across the known lands with the name Nightjar. Well, other than your employer, who¡¯s the son of the man who made that very sword you¡¯re wielding.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, he¡¯s that important? Granted, this sword really feels good to handle. Must¡¯ve been a really cool guy. Anyways, where do we go from here, boss?¡±


    Just as Lou was looking for affirmation from his employer, the young smith contemplated. After a while, he turned to the mercenary and asked:


    ¡°Can you cast the projection spell again? I just want to make sure I saw something right.¡±


    Lou cast the spell again, this time without declaring anything, and the ghostly images returned. Ripley ordered him to go back to where they were before, and when they got to the blue haze, he suggested to slow down so he wouldn¡¯t suffer the shock of the noise. The mercenary did, and the haze started to coalesce into a single spot before shooting out into the distance.


    A little later, the mercenary stilled his hand to reveal a grizzly sight. In the projections, they could see a lone ghost struggling against a multitude of ghosts lunging at him.


    ¡°Father!¡± Ripley couldn¡¯t help but cry out to the ghost in the projection.


    The lone ghost was ultimately overpowered by the others. As two ghosts propped him up, one of them came forth and simply stared at him. After a while, the smith¡¯s ghost limped, and he was carried away. The band of spirits formed a beeline and floated forth, and then the projectile that shot out returned and exploded in the same spot, scattering blue haze everywhere.


    ¡°So that¡¯s why they abducted him,¡± Lou smiled for some reason. ¡°He¡¯s not just any smith. He worked for the Blue Army.¡±


    ¡°Well, duh! That¡¯s what he told you!¡± said the goggled youth. ¡°And while all that¡¯s happening, Ripley¡¯s running for his life.¡±


    ¡°But why would the Blue Army go so far just to get to this guy?¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s what I think: The Blue Army needs more weapons because for the first time in 20 years, they have begun their advance. They¡¯re recruiting more soldiers for that. More soldiers means more weapons, more weapons means more smiths. That¡¯s why they abducted Ripley¡¯s dad.¡±


    Upon hearing Marlowe¡¯s reasonable hypothesis, Lou shook his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange to me. If the Blue Army would search for more people, why didn¡¯t they just stage their recruitment in the Capital? I mean, you have more people there than here. Not to mention all the smiths I know are all concentrated in one single district there.¡±


    ¡°Oh right, you did mention you worked for the Blue Army once.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it had something to do with my father¡¯s way of making swords?¡± Ripley suggested.


    ¡°You mean all the magic he puts on this sword and stuff?¡± Lou unsheathed the sword from his back to have a close look at it.


    ¡°Yes. Do any of the smiths in the Capital do that?¡±


    ¡°Now that you mentioned it, they didn¡¯t need to. The most they did with their swords was reinforce it with a strengthen spell, and that¡¯s pretty much it. Nothing about putting security seals on it.¡±


    Ripley nodded. He found it strange for his father to reinforce a magic seal on his swords. After all, they¡¯re in a mountainous area with the nearest town being found on the edge of a desert basin, which meant customers are as rare as they come, and even if bandits were to come and ransack the place, they wouldn¡¯t be able to pick a single blade thanks to the magic on them.


    The mercenary stretched his back and continued.


    ¡°Well, we have a lead. Now we need something else, something with your father¡¯s mana signature on it. I will need it to track his whereabouts.¡±


    Ripley turned to his friend and said, ¡°Marlowe, the box,¡± to which he replied, ¡°Are you sure about this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± said the young smith. ¡°I think we¡¯re close to finding where father is. And I think I know what he¡¯s doing.¡±


    The goggled youth dug under his overalls and took out a partly-charred box. It was the same box that contained the clockwork hammer Ripley used against Lou, which was currently hanging by his waist. Even when empty, he couldn¡¯t part with the box. It¡¯s part of his possessiveness. Not to mention it was becoming one of the few things that he treasured.


    But when Ripley was about to hand the box over to Lou, a shadow darted forward and snatched it from the young smith¡¯s outstretched hands before disappearing into the thickness of the conifer forest.


    The three boys immediately left the scene and gave chase.

 5: The Retrieval

    The shadow sped by the three travelers Ripley, Marlowe, and Lou, snatching a charred box with the Blue Army''s emblem on it. It left behind it a jangling sound as it wove through the tall pillars and the jagged boulders. Two minutes later, after losing sight of the shadow, the three boys came across a scene they never imagined.


    "A Blue Army encampment!"


    A collection of tents, boxes, and soldiers in uniform were gathered on the mountain slope. They immediately hid under an unguarded stockpile, cursing under their breath.


    "Why did there have to be a camp in the middle of the forest? Now the thief''s gonna get away with the box." Ripley wiped the sweat off his head.


    "It was your stupid idea to bring it out in the first place," Marlowe complained.


    "Say," Lou butted in the bickering. "Is the box really that important to you two?"


    "Of course it is!" The two immediately answered simultaneously, but the goggled youth had more to say.


    "That box still contains all-important documentation regarding Ripley''s revolver. If the thief read those, he''d probably sell them to a shady buyer. Or worse!"


    "Why, what''s worse?" Lou pushed him on.


    "The thief will make one of his own. Once he does, he will mass-produce that weapon and sell it to various arms dealers, earning him more money than he could ever ask for! And since it''s an old relic, people will pay top dollar for a single one of those! But that''s not all! Those who bought the weapons will rise up and form their own armies, changing the landscape of war as we know it!"


    "No, I think the Blue army will get wind of it before he can ever make his own army," Ripley refuted monotonously. "But still, once the documents reach a smithing town, it would give them the advantage! You saw what it can do! Imagine multiples of them in an army! It''s the one thing Father does not want."


    "Speaking of which, do you think your dad''s probably somewhere in this camp? Maybe in one of the tents?"


    "As much as I want him to, it''s unlikely. The projections showed they were headed in a different direction from this camp. This is possibly a border encampment. We''re already in a dangerous spot."


    After all, they were close to the supposed border, where the war was heaviest. In fact, the mountain they were on was part of a range that marked the border between the western Bulwark Kingdom, and the eastern Shorin States. Meaning, not only are they in danger of getting captured by Bulwark, but also getting ambushed by Shorin troops. The vagabond had put them in a trap.


    "Right," Lou whistled, impressed by Ripley''s knowledge. "You really do know you way around these mountains, kid. Since you guys don''t want the box to reach the Blue Army''s hands, I''ll take up on your offer."


    "But the thief''s probably well away now."


    "No, I have something." And Lou closed his eyes and took one big breath. This was enough to blow Marlowe''s top off, thinking that he simply dozed off, but Ripley immediately stopped him. He tried to rouse Lou from his slumber, and when he made contact, his vision was immediately tinged with a blue hue.


    "What is this spell?" Ripley was awestruck. "I''ve never read about this in my books."


    When he looked in front of him, he could see Lou as a glowing human being with ripples coming out of him. He turned around to check on Marlowe, who was also shown as a glow, only fainter due to his mana-extracting methods. He could also see numerous glowing dots in the distance.


    Ripley tried to approach them, but he was stopped by an unseen force, as if a solid barrier was blocking him. Then he realized that the barrier was actually the vey box they were hiding, and the little dots he was seeing were other people from the other side of the box pile. In short, Ripley was able to see through walls.


    To be specific, the glowing objects were the mana signatures of living things. They would leave a ghostly trail, indicating their footprint, and when Lou''s ripples hit them, they would bounce back, and the glow would intensify a little bit.


    He scanned the seemingly limitless surroundings, and immediately zeroed in on a series of concentric ripples. The source of the ripples was darker than the surroundings, but it would continually give away its location thanks to Lou''s magic. When it moved from one place to another, it let out yet another series of ripples, and he could also hear a recognizable jangling sound.


    "Okay, got it," Lou opened his eyes. "Our mark''s right by the log cabin a few tents from here. The guards won''t be a problem, as there aren''t many guards to begin with. I suggest we split up and flank the thief. Boss, you go with your friend and take the left side. I''ll go for the right."


    The mercenary immediately sped away before the two boys would raise their hands and inquire about the strategy. Ripley didn''t even notice that the spell came undone as soon as Lou left, still dazed by the magical light show. It was only after Marlowe snapped his fingers in front of his face that he was able to return to the real world and undertake the ambush.


    As the goggled youth pulled the young smith''s hand and led him to a tree, he asked, "What was that about, Rip? You were daydreaming again?"


    "No, it was something I''ve never seen before. A brand new spell!"


    "Shush! Save that for later. We have to get the box before he sells it off."


    They closed the distance between themselves and the thief, zigzagging between trees, boxes, and tents. Whenever they would spot a Blue Army guard nearby, Marlowe would pick up a stone and throw it somewhere, drawing the guard''s attention there. Meanwhile, they could see Lou just below them taking out a guard silently and hiding his unconscious body.


    They were now closing in on the thief, and Ripley now knew the reason for the jangling noise he leaves. He was wearing a robe was made out of tiny, metal rings that linked together to resembled cloth.


    A chainmail.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "That''s one bad fashion sense," remarked Marlowe. "Chainmail''s fine for protection and all, but it''s so shiny I could probably see him from a mile away! And all those baubles just make the jangling worse!"


    Across them, Lou approached the log cabin and snuck behind the thief, who was busy prying out the Bulwark crest from the box. It was a good thing too, since he was so preoccupied with it that he didn''t hear Marlowe''s gripe. Lou peeked from behind and eyed the two boys, making hand gestures that signaled them to shut up and go to the next cover, which they did.


    But when they were about to reach the next point, Ripley stumbled on a tree root, and he crashed headlong to an empty tent, creating a loud crashing sound. This alerted the nearby sentinels who were posted, and they rushed to the source of the disturbance. He immediately clambered out of the wreckage with the help of Marlowe, who chastised him for being clumsy in a sneak operation.


    Of course, the thief was also alerted by the sudden commotion, and so he started to bolt away, but a wave of blue energy blasted the solid earth just a few paces in front of him. Behind him, Lou approached, glowing sword at the ready.


    "Just where do you think you''re going, little missy?" he warned the chainmail-wearing vagabond. "I believe you have something that belongs to my client. Hand it over."


    Not wanting to be outdone, the thief immediately plucked something off the chain robe and threw it on the ground. Smoke billowed out, blocking the mercenary''s vision. He, in turn, swept the sword in a wide arc, blowing it away, but when the smoke cleared, the thief had disappeared. Lou called out to the two boys, "Hey! You two! Don''t just stand there! There''s no point in hiding anymore! That stunt just alerted the guards!"


    "But your stunt just made it worse!" Marlowe barked back. "And now the thief''s gone with the box! What are we gonna do?!"


    "Can''t you just talk it out?" Ripley suggested. "I mean, you were a Blue Army soldier. Maybe they will let it slide."


    "It''s not that easy, kid," answered the former soldier. "I ran away on my own a long time ago. That amounts to treason, so you could say I''m a criminal in these guys'' eyes. I don''t think the Kingdom''s gonna accept me with open arms, but if they''re itching for a fight, I''ll give it to them, though it''ll just add more layers of treason on me."


    The three prepared themselves for combat. Multiple guards surrounded the intruders, with the majority focusing on Lou, who poses a greater threat compared to the two boys. Ripley readied his clockwork hammer. He didn''t use it earlier because of the noise it makes when firing, and also because of the potential harm it might do to the vagabond.


    "So, boss! Should I go all out or what?" Lou was awaiting for further orders.


    "Just get us out of here!" was Ripley''s reply.


    He did not hesitate to fire a nail towards a Blue Army soldier. After all, they abducted his father, and he cannot forgive them. But he did not intend to kill, and the shot that he fired only served to catch the attention of the soldiers.


    At the same time, Lou lunged forward and made an opening in the formation. The guards immediately zeroed in on him, but he easily took them out with his superior swordsmanship. Although it was the same style as that of the Blue Army, his didn''t focus on the sword. He would occasionally use his free hand to subdue the opponent, and sometimes he would let out a burst of energy from the palm, sending a soldier flying backwards.


    Meanwhile, Ripley and Marlowe were making a break for freedom, bobbing in and out of the ensuing conflict. The goggled youth had picked up a sword from nearby, clutching it with both hands. The young smith still had his trusty revolver, but he would only fire when necessary. He didn''t shoot out of a need for revenge, since it would be a waste of ammunition.


    There were still a few guards on their tail, so the two split up to confuse their pursuers. Ripley scaled the mountainside, firing his revolver from behind him, not intending to hit, but to scare. Below him, he could see Marlowe enter a tent and collapse it when a guard or two made their way inside. And when his friend''s escape path would be closed, Ripley fired a series of shots from afar to catch his attention, to which Marlowe would then use underhanded methods to take the guard out.


    In the distance, he could see Lou still battling it out with the guards, but they showed no sign of stopping or tiring. Despite getting the upper hand, the mercenary was still at a disadvantage of number. He was now closing in towards where Ripley and Marlowe were, who were also having a bad time with the guards.


    In the end, the three were cornered.


    But all was not lost.


    A chime-like voice called out, "Shield your eyes if you don''t want to get blind!"


    From out of nowhere, something like a stone flew right in the center of the gathering before exploding in a blinding flash. The three had done what the voice had told, and so they did not suffer from blindness. With eyes closed, Ripley could hear sounds of clamor and beatings, but also he also heard a familiar sound.


    The sound of jangling chainmail.


    The vagabond from before had returned to aid the three, and upon closer look, Ripley could see all sorts of things stuck on the mail, such as an assortment of larger rings, metal pieces, and clear pouches containing ash. He could also see that the figure was covering his face with torn rags so that no one could recognize him, but he wondered about the chainmail, which was easily recognizable wherever you looked.


    "You three, this way," he said in a muffled voice, but its chime-like timbre was still recognizable. The three followed and bolted while the confusion still ensued.


    "It''s the thief!" shouted Marlowe. "Hey, why did you decide to help us? You know you stole something from us."


    "That''s just how Silt works, little dude. She would never turn her back on the young ones," explained the mercenary. "Thanks for the save, by the way, though you didn''t have to run away the first time."


    "You were trying to kill me back there, weren''t you?" said the cloaked figure. "I went back because I''m interested in something."


    "Just as I suspected," Lou mused. "She''s taken a liking to you, boss."


    "Wait, he''s not a guy?" Ripley''s eyes widened.


    "Of course I''m a girl, stupid!" he, or rather, she turned to Ripley and replied irritably. "Can''t you tell by my voice? And it''s not just you that caught my attention. It''s that weapon of yours."


    The vagabond took off the piece of cloth covering part of her face, revealing the features of a young girl. With a cat-like gaze that seemed to pierce one''s soul, she scanned the area for a possible escape route, as if she was simply retracing her steps when she ran from the three.


    They arrived at the edge of the conifer forest, where the desert basin stretched below them. Silt pointed towards an object below, and said, "There''s our ride. We have a lot of explaining to do once we get there."


    "Whoa," Marlowe couldn''t help but shout in awe. "You own a Behemoth?!"


    A series of blue bolts came streaking towards the group, but the mercenary deflected them with his sword, hitting the nearby trees. The Blue Army had finally recovered and were starting to gain on them, their swords and feet emanating a ghostly glow, indicating an enchantment spell. They fired mana missiles from the tips of their swords, and Lou would simply block them with a quick barrier.


    "Like she said," continued the mercenary,"a lot of explaining to do once we reach it. So less talking, more running."


    The group dashed towards the large object sitting by the crags, with Silt and Marlowe taking the lead. Lou and Ripley were keeping their pursuers at bay using their respective weapons, the young smith with his clockwork hammer, and the mercenary with his glowing sword.


    The object they were approaching was quite unlike the Behemoths that Ripley saw from before. Its entire body was akin to that of a wagon, with four black wheels for feet and a large cabin that can house an entire stockpile. The two before him had entered the front of the vehicle, the thief sitting by a fifth wheel in front of her, and the goggled youth right next to her, eyes sparkling in admiration.


    The Behemoth emitted a low growl as Ripley approached it, smoke billowing out of its backside. He looked backed to see if the soldiers were still hot on their trail, and sure enough, they were still having a hard time with Lou as he made a big horizontal slash in the air, kicking the sand below the approaching threat to create an improvised smokescreen.


    "Go on, get in the back!" he hollered as he stretched his hand towards the enemy. The young smith quickly clambered inside the back of the Behemoth as he was told, and the mercenary leapt inside. The metal wagon then began to move forward at a breakneck pace, leaving its pursuers behind.

 6: The Cat-eyed Thief

    With their troubles behind them, Ripley plopped down on the cabin floor and heaved a huge sigh. ¡°We finally escaped.¡±


    ¡°Good job back there, Rip!¡± Marlowe looked back held a thumb up towards his friend. ¡°I feel like you¡¯re a changed man!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s thanks to the revolver and Lou,¡± he said as he lay down and caught a few breaths.


    ¡°What were you doing back there, Silt?¡± Lou asked. ¡°I thought you were busy exploring some ruinson the other side or something.¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say I had to deliver some stuff before the Blue Army got in the way,¡± Silt replied loudly, cat-like gaze focused ahead. The young smith wanted to ask a ton of questions to the new person, but before a word escaped from his lips, Lou began to answer.


    ¡°Before you say anything more, yes. We know each other. Met a few times in the battlefield. You could say our working relationship¡¯s a tad too complicated for your ears. Whew, that¡¯s cold!¡±


    While he was explaining, he turned to a metal cabinet that was as tall as a man, and as he opened it, a gust of cool wind enveloped the entire cabin. Ripley could see dew-encrusted bottles line up the cabinet, but Lou simply stood there, not admiring the collection.


    ¡°Hey!¡± the thief looked back and glared at the mercenary. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna sit there and cool yourself off, pick a drink and close the box! You¡¯re letting all the cold out!¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the whole point of this artifact of yours, little missy?¡± he rebutted smugly. ¡°To cool stuff? Oh, and you better watch the road. You might bump onto something.¡± And he picked a few bottles and handed one of them to Ripley.


    ¡°That stupid knight. Always taking advantage of my stuff.¡± Silt grumbled loud enough to be heard.


    ¡°Anyway, where was I?¡± Lou continued. ¡°Oh yeah. Silt here is a mercenary just like me, but she¡¯s mostly a scout that hunts for information. She also hunts artifacts from all over. The crates you see here have artifacts in them, including this very box. That¡¯s probably why she came back to get you, kid.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of boxes, here¡¯s yours back,¡± Marlowe approached the two and set the wooden box on the floor. Seeing the two were having a sip of the cold drinks, he beamed and requested a taste.


    Ripley examined the box for anything suspicious, and sure enough, he saw a huge number of cuts on the lid, where the Bulwark crest was located. He surmised that Silt might have tried to pry out the crest from the box for reasons unknown, and she was unsuccessful.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t get it,¡± he finally said. ¡°Why are all these things happening to me? I get handed a magical box, and a bunch of powerful people start to flock toward me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it get to you, Rip,¡± Marlowe tried to console him. ¡°What¡¯s important is that we¡¯re here, and that the clockwork hammer is still in your possession. Also, we have a mercenary helping us rescue your dad, and now, we have a really cool lady giving us a ride in her Behemoth. There¡¯s so much I want to ask her, but she seemed angry, so I left.¡±


    Ripley looked towards the front of the Behemoth cabin and noticed that there was a closed, metal door in place of the desert horizon.


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± Lou admitted. ¡°I can¡¯t help but tease the little lady. She¡¯s adorable like that. Oh, lemme tell you this story. One time, we were working together on a mission to some ruins north of here, and we had to steal some manuscripts from this old geezer. Silt had this idea that we should act as civilians who got lost in the woods, and I thought the plan great, except for one thing, so I changed the plan midway into the operation. I told the old man that-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough of your silly stories, knight.¡±


    Silt¡¯s voice came in from above the mercenary, and when Ripley looked for the source, he saw a box with the thief¡¯s face. She had taken off her chainmail robe that covered most of her figure and changed into more traditional clothing, which included a bandana. Though it was only an image, she held an imposing aura that caused the two boys to step back. Lou, on the other hand, casually greeted her.


    ¡°Oh, hey, Silt. We were just talking about you. By the way, that¡¯s another artifact of hers that allows you to talk under closed doors.¡±


    ¡°Amazing!¡± cheered Marlowe, and when he looked around, his eyes shone even more. ¡°She owns a treasure trove!¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± the girl in the box cleared her throat and began with her explanation. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that we got off the wrong foot back there, you two. I¡¯m also sorry about the Bulwark box. I thought you were working for them from the start because the knight was around, and since I thought that box was an important item for the Blue Army, I went ahead and pilfered it.But when I heard a loud bang, I couldn¡¯t just sit idly and let this chance slip by. I believe he mentioned to you two that I¡¯m a collector of artifacts? That¡¯s one of the reasons why I turned back. I thought I had heard the sound of a gun, and it seemed like I was right.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, a what?¡± Lou wiped his ear, thinking he had heard a made-up word.


    ¡°A gun,¡± Ripley began to explain. ¡°That¡¯s another word for my revolver.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, I see you know your weapon well, uhh¡­¡±


    ¡°Ripley. And this is Marlowe.¡± The young smith introduced himself and his friend, who waved towards the face, all in a gesture of good will. The face, in turn, returned the gesture back with a smile.


    ¡°Oh. Sorry. I actually haven¡¯t introduced myself. I¡¯m Siltrainn Olivario, but you can just call me Silt. It¡¯s shorter that way.¡±


    Although her face seemed to have this constant tinge of anger thanks to her gaze, her smile was actually refreshing to look at.The two had found this exchange of gestures reassuring, and so the tension felt earlier had started to loosen a bit.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°You have a surname? Ripley has one too! He¡¯s a Nightjar!¡± Marlowe, still chipper, pointed out.


    ¡°What?! A Nightjar? That must mean he¡¯s a son of Earl Nightjar!¡±


    ¡°Wait, how do you know my father¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°Everyone in the Bulwark Kingdom has at least heard of him.¡±


    ¡°Not me, though.¡±


    ¡°Could you seal your lips just for a few minutes, knight?! I¡¯m trying to explain things to these two here. Things that they should understand!¡±


    Lou shrugged, but went silent as told. He even stood up and distanced himself from the gathering, taking Ripley¡¯s treasured box with him. Only then did Silt continue with her lecture.


    ¡°To continue, Earl Nightjar is considered to be one of the best, if not the best, smiths in the history of the Bulwark Kingdom¡¯s rule. He was an expert in weaponry, but he also spearheaded the construction of a few outposts ringing the desert basin. His weapons were sought after even by the Shorin, and they were so advanced in their make that he had to be in the front lines just to do maintenance. He was also a great warrior, mind you.¡±


    ¡°You seem to know a lot about Ripley¡¯s dad, Miss Silt,¡± said Marlowe.


    ¡°Of course! In fact, he taught me how to maintain this Behemoth.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean my father was also a technician?¡± Ripley asked with a sad look. ¡°But I thought they had slowly died out since Marriot¡¯s rule. Father even told me to stay away from Behemoths since they¡¯re dangerous.¡±


    ¡°And what is a technician, exactly?¡± asked his friend.


    ¡°Simply put,¡± the girl on the screen said,¡°they can tame Behemoths. They¡¯re the only ones who know about their inner workings.¡±


    The young smith had recalled a time when he and his father were collecting hunks of metal to be used for the smithing business. The young smith had happened upon a strange mechanism amongst the metal pile, and when the elder Nightjar saw his son fiddle with it, he swatted the object from his hands and tossed it in the furnace.


    ¡°That was a Behemoth¡¯s heart, son. It might be out of its body, but it can still wreak havoc when touched by inexperienced hands. Promise me you¡¯ll stay away from those metal demons, and if you see one, report it to me immediately.¡±


    The fact that his father even knew about such a thing was enough to affirm what Silt had just said, and this added to the young smith¡¯s ever-growing cloud of doubt.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± the thief reassured him. ¡°This Behemoth doesn¡¯t carry any weapons aboard because it¡¯s the kind designed to transport supplies. By the way, I want to ask you. What were you doing out there?¡±


    ¡°See, that¡¯s the thing,¡± Marlowe answered in Ripley¡¯s stead. He told her everything that had happened for the past few hours.


    ¡°So it¡¯s true, then,¡± Silt mumbled. ¡°The Blue Army had finally made their move after 24 years of inactivity. That explains the Behemoth pair I saw in the battlefield. Look, I know it must feel hard on you, having all these things happen to you all of a sudden. But with your father missing, this means the tides of battle will change.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, kid,¡± continued Lou. ¡°Stop moping around. We¡¯re in the verge of a war right now.¡±


    ¡°I know that! It¡¯s just¡­¡± Ripley cried out. ¡°I¡¯m confused. I¡¯m so used to living a peaceful life with my father, and right now, you¡¯re saying that war is coming because of him, that he¡¯s an important person in the Blue Army? He¡¯s also important to me! He¡¯s the only family I have! I don¡¯t care about the war! I just want him back!¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± asked Silt. ¡°Do you think you can just leave without leaving some impact on the war? You are a son of a Nightjar smith, for crying out loud. You¡¯re already involved yourself in the war, whether you like it or not. Think about it. Why did your father order you to run away with the relic in your hands? What if you hadn¡¯t meet the knight? What would¡¯ve happened if you didn¡¯t catch me with your precious box?¡±


    ¡°Hey! Take it easy, Silt!¡± said Lou. ¡°You can¡¯t just reproach the kid for what he¡¯s trying to do!¡±


    ¡°I have to, knight. He¡¯s still a kid. He¡¯s not in the right mind, and he clearly has no idea about the war going on. It¡¯s time he faced the reality of the current situation. When all is said and done, he¡¯ll have to take a side and take arms. It doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s Bulwark or Shorin. He has what it takes to change history because of what he holds in his hands.¡±


    ¡°You mean the revolver?¡± Marlowe asked.


    ¡°Yes. That weapon has the potential to start a war. No, in fact, it could be said to be an instrument made for the sole purpose of war. It can kill in the blink of an eye and strike fear in the hearts of men. And worse of all, anyone can use it. It¡¯s much more dangerous than a sword or a spell. Of course, it has its share of disadvantages, but all in all, it¡¯s a very dangerous weapon of the past. Civilizations were built upon the destruction wrought by a gun, and the fact that it¡¯s owned by a kid who hasn¡¯t experienced killing someone, well, I shudder at the thought.¡±


    Being put on a pedestal didn¡¯t sit comfortably with the young smith, but with all that had happened in the past few hours, the pressure was starting to get to him.He recalled his vision that morning, about a large-scale war that seemed to stretch on forever. What if he had used his weapon in that dream?


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her, Ripley,¡± warned Marlowe. ¡°She¡¯s just trying to scare you into giving her the weapon. Think about what she had done earlier. She not only tried to steal the box from us, she nicked it a few times too. While I do idolize her for her treasure trove, as thieves, we have a mandate never to trust each other¡¯s company.¡±


    ¡°I can hear you, you know,¡± she said. ¡°And I¡¯m not after his gun. I¡¯m just warning him. You guys are lucky enough to catch a ride with me, but I can¡¯t tolerate someone with a potential to cause havoc just for the sake of his father.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± said Ripley. ¡°I have already made up my mind. I will rescue my father, no matter what it takes. And if you will stop us, I will not hesitate to use my revolver on you.¡±


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough,¡± Lou stood up, and silence enveloped the vehicle, save for the groaning sounds of the Behemoth. ¡°We can settle this fight at a later date. The important thing is that I have found out where his dad is. He¡¯s somewhere in the northern rim of the desert basin, and with Silt and her Behemoth, that means he can have that family reunion in a jiffy.¡±


    ¡°Wait, I never said I-¡± Silt became flustered at Lou¡¯s declaration before getting shot down.


    ¡°Too late. You¡¯ve given us the save and a ride, so that¡¯s two counts of assisting us. You¡¯re already part of our merry group, little missy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that, you stupid knight!¡± the cat-eyed thief barked at the smug mercenary, who simply shrugged it off. ¡°I¡¯m about to run out of fuel, so I will have to stop by at the nearest town. Since you¡¯re here, knight, you better help me extract some aether from the air. Just enough to get us to an outpost.¡±


    ¡°But Outpost is the nearest town,¡± said Marlowe. ¡°I mean, look! I can see the Palmetto from here!¡±


    The scenery from behind the mercenary had changed. Amongst an endless horizon, they could see a lone spire sticking out of the bleak landscape.


    ¡°Wow! How have I not seen that before? That¡¯s definitely going in my maps. Alright, boys. We¡¯re staying the night there. I¡¯m turning off the artifact, so I¡¯ll see you in a bit.¡±


    And the driver led her Behemoth to the two youths¡¯ dear town, but as they got closer, they had noticed a change in the town¡¯s atmosphere. Several lines of people were gathering outside the town¡¯s perimeter, as if preparing to evacuate.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening outside?¡± Marlowe craned forward to get a closer look, and Ripley stood right beside him. They could see a few blue tents where men in uniform were posted.


    ¡°Oh, no. It¡¯s them,¡± said Ripley fearfully. ¡°How were they able to catch up to us?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, kid!¡± Lou corrected him. ¡°They¡¯re not even the same unit, so they wouldn¡¯t recognize us. Just in case, though. We better hide from them. They might get a message from that border camp. Someone better tell the driver.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go! In fact, I know somewhere we can hide,¡± Marlowe beamed and returned to the front of the vehicle. After a few seconds, the Behemoth which was heading towards the front gate of Outpost suddenly stopped and made a turn, and from there, they stopped at a place the three boys recognized all too well.

 7: The Goddess Tale

    Nighttime fell on the desert town of Outpost, and the group of four were currently lounging inside the confines of the War Room.


    The goggled youth had led the cat-eyed vagabond and her passengers to a clearing by the western wall, where an entrance to a series of tunnels lay hidden beneath a pile of boulders. With his guidance, those snaking tunnels eventually led them to the secluded place, where they relaxed away from the imminent dangers of getting spotted by the Blue Army troops.


    "Are you sure it''s okay to hide your Behemoth outside?" he asked worriedly. "What if the Blue Army would extend their patrols to the western wall?"


    "It''s fine," said Silt. "Even if they find it, they can''t touch it. Only I have access." She glanced around the collection of ancient shelves. "It''s amazing that you know of such a place, but I don''t."


    "Yeah, well, I discovered it on accident," he replied as he scratched his head.


    "This place still reeks of aether," Lou waved his hand. "You weren''t kidding about the unlocking thing. Hey, boss, everything okay back there?"


    The young smith sat huddled at a corner of the room, with a depressed look on his face.


    "I-It''s nothing," he answered. "I''m fine." But Marlowe had other ideas.


    "Ever since we''ve entered the tunnels, you''ve been silent. Don''t tell me you still feel awkward around Miss Silt. Come on, now. There''s nothing to worry."


    Ripley still felt some tension left over from the ride in the desert. With Silt''s stinging words, he had broken under the pressure and lashed out at his helper, and because of that, his feelings of uneasiness had grown tenfold. He also felt bitter, as Silt didn''t even apologize to him, leaving her previous words to the wind as they relaxed underground.


    "I''m sorry about Ripley," Marlowe turned to Silt. "He''s always like this. Whenever he gets into a fight with someone, he just mopes around and stays silent. But don''t worry. He''ll come to in a few hours."


    "Are you sure it''s okay to leave him there?" she worried. "I kind of feel bad for the smithson."


    "Oh, now you feel bad?" Lou smirked. "You''re the one who started it."


    "I meant what I said back there! It''s not my fault he took it differently."


    "But your words broke him. I may have just met him yesterday, but he''s a formidable guy. He doesn''t hesitate when he gets serious. See this leg? It''s his fault. If I didn''t know any better, I would''ve been dead by then. That''s why I went along with him. Now go on and apologize to the kid. He needs it."


    After a moment, she stood up and approached the moping Ripley.


    "Ummm," she offered him a drink. "About earlier, I didn''t really mean to hurt you like that."


    But he only turned his face away from the vagabond. He couldn''t trust someone who had hurt him earlier.


    "R-Ripley? Listen. I can tell you stories about your father while he was with the Blue Army, if that makes you feel any better."


    "So what?" he replied in a monotone voice.


    "Psst, Silt!" Lou whispered loudly. "Just say the magic words!"


    "I don''t know any spells that work for this situation!" she barked back in the same hushed tone.


    "Not that one! Tell him you''re sorry, for crying out loud!"


    "You know I can''t do that, you stupid knight!"


    Of course, Ripley heard it all, but he didn''t budge an inch. From what he can gather, Silt was trying to apologize to him, and Lou was pushing her on. He couldn''t care less about this exchange between the two mercenaries. Finally, Marlowe stepped between them and pushed them away from the smith who needed some time alone.


    "That''s enough, you two. All Ripley needs in some space. We can just leave him alone and talk about stuff. Like this room! What do you think, Miss Silt? Does it fancy you?"


    "Now that you mention it, yeah, actually. You know what I think? This looks like an underground chamber for military officials, and judging by its position on the map, this is actually a very old war room from the time of King Marcus IV. And most of the stuff in here is left untouched too!"


    "Except for that burnt spot over there and the stench of aether," Lou interjected. "I think I''m gonna gather it all up and leave you two to your business."


    As he headed to the spot he talked about, he passed by the young smith and told him a few words.


    "Listen, kid. Don''t let what Silt said get to your head. She only said that because she''s concerned about you, who went out of your way to save your father. Knowing her, I''m sure you two will make good friends."


    With that, he patted Ripley in the back a few times and proceeded to gather the remaining aether from the unlocking. When he brandished his sword, glowing bright as he lifted it from the scabbard, a faint wind swirled and gathered around it. Once he had done so, he returned the sword in its sheath and went back to where the two thieves were.


    "You have all this stuff dating back to the bygone era, and you didn''t think of selling it all?!" Silt gasped.


    "I did!" Marlowe said. "It''s just that the people of Outpost don''t accept these kinds of things as commodities, is all!"


    "Tell you what. Let me have this room and everything in it, and I''ll give you whatever you want."


    "Anything?"


    "Well, as long as it''s within the bounds of reality, and it''s of equivalent value, sure!"


    "Hmm," he pondered, then snapped his fingers. "I want all the stuff inside your Behemoth!"


    "Done," and the two thieves shook hands in agreement. Then Marlowe asked one simple question.


    "Why does Miss Silt keep wearing that bandana?"


    "Huh?" she quickly looked at Marlowe with surprise.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "Of all the things to ask, that''s the best you can come up with?" Lou glared at the goggled youth.


    "Why not?" he shrugged. "I mean, I wanted to have an adventure, but I think Ripley''s rescue qualifies as that, and you''re the one that will give us a ride. Besides, your fashion sense had bothered me for quite some time, and it seemed like there''s some secret behind it."


    "Oh, it''s something you don''t want to know," Silt answered. "And before you push me into telling, know well that some secrets are better left undisturbed."


    "She keeps a bald spot on her head that can''t be cured with magic," Lou jabbered, and Silt bumped him on the head and vehemently denied that claim, telling him that he also knows the reason. When Marlowe asked Lou, he simply said, "Silt''s right. It''s best you don''t know. Why don''t ask a different question?"


    "Okay, then. How did Miss Silt get her Behemoth?"


    "Oh, that?" It was Lou who responded. "Well, let''s just say it was a gift from me during a siege. You see, the people of that town, I forgot the name, they were desperate to escape, and they badly needed someone who can drive it, but I can''t. Lucky for them, she happened to be around, and since she knows how to handle it, I gave it to her."


    "Wait, that Behemoth was yours?" Marlowe interjected.


    "Was. I mean, it was part of the Blue Army''s corps when they made the charge. Behemoths come in different kinds, you know. The one we rode on was a standard issue transport vehicle, but there''s also things like the Guardian-class that resemble people."


    "I didn''t know you had a thing for Behemoths, knight," Silt said.


    "Well, it''s part of Blue Army knowledge, after all. By the way, only the Bulwark uses Behemoths, never the Shorin."


    "Which I find very strange," said Silt. "Do you know why?"


    Ripley wanted to know the reason, thus he looked on to the three who were starting to gather around a large table. Silt noticed this, and she gather her breath as if to muster up some courage.


    "Anyway, how about I tell you a story?"


    "A bedtime story? But we''re too old for that!" complained Marlowe.


    "That''s for you to decide. This is an important story of the history of everything. Besides, telling stories like this help me feel calm, and I think this will answer all your questions. Though I''m sure you''ll be asking a lot more after this."


    And so Silt, the cat-eyed vagabond told her tale:


    "Once, there were gods, and they roamed the land together with us, their children. But after a time, the gods began to die out one by one, until there was nothing left of the land but desolation and ruin. The people, so dependent on the gods, were left scrounging for whatever they could find in order to survive. This was called the Age of Nil, because there was nothing worthy to be found.


    "Until one night, the sky parted, and a star came hurtling down the barren landscape. From this star came out a newly-born goddess. She was beautiful beyond compare, and she wore a raiment made out of space itself. When she saw that the people living there were suffering, she used her powers to restore the lands to their former glory. The grass returned, and the waters flowed once more. Seeing this, the people began to flock to her feet, calling her the-Goddess-who-returned."


    Upon hearing those words, Ripley immediately recognized the story, of which his father had told him every night before they set off to the realm of sleep. It was about the-Goddess-who-disappeared, how She gave to Her people the gift of magic, and how the kingdom of Bulwark was formed, but as the story continued, he found some differences in Silt''s version, and his curiosity was piqued.


    "To prevent the mistake of the ones who came before Her, She taught Her people how to care for the land so that it won''t return to sand. She also taught them the all-important magical arts, which only the gods were able to do. And because She loved Her people so much, She decided to stay and live with them, as Her predecessors did. But fate wouldn''t let things pass the way She wanted.


    "After at least a hundred years of staying with Her people, fire rained down from the sky and scarred the earth, and from these scars came towering demons made of fire. These demons assaulted the lands which the Goddess loved, and with it, Her people. She did Her best to safeguard the land She had started to call home, using Her immense talent in magic, but the demons'' fiery skin had cooled into metal, which rendered Her attacks useless. They came rushing in, and ultimately, the Goddess was overpowered.


    "Left with no choice, She mustered all Her power into a singularity inside Her body, which exploded in a massive light that enveloped the entire planet. This light contained Her very essence that we now call mana, and the earth became rich with it. It''s this mana that clung onto the demons and finished them, because once the particle touched them, they became stiff as their metal bodies, and so they became unmoving.


    "Of course, that''s the reason why she''s called the-Goddess-who-disappeared. A few hundred years had passed since Her sacrifice, and to honor what She did, the people erected a kingdom in the exact spot where She made the suicidal attack, and they called it the Bulwark Kingdom. And that concludes my story."


    "Hold on," said a voice. It was none other than Ripley.


    "I cannot help but point out that your story is different from what my father tells me every night. First off, the gods didn''t die off, they left their children because they thought they were imperfect. That''s why we can''t cast magic perfectly like how She can. Secondly, the Behemoths came down from the sky, not from scars underground, as you say. And lastly, you didn''t include the part where the Goddess actually sinned, and it''s the reason why the Behemoths came raining down."


    "Wait, you mean those demons are actually Behemoths?!" Marlowe spat out.


    "They''re called that because they were so big in the first place," Ripley continued, "and before She made Her sacrifice, that war raged for quite a long time. I find it strange that you tried to omit it."


    When the young smith finished with his take on the story, which he had done in an angry tone, the sleepy air of the War Room changed, and noticing this, Silt the storyteller actually smiled at the challenger, but it wasn''t a smile of comfort. It was a challenging grin.


    "Hmm," she said. "So I see you know Her story differently. Well, then. If the Goddess really did sin, what was this sin that She committed?"


    "She actually made love with a mortal and raised a family, all on Her own, and Her descendants dot the entire globe in their skills in magic. I think Lou might be one of those descendants."


    "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Lou heavily denied that claim. "Don''t involve me in that story!"


    "That''s a bold claim, smithson," said Silt. "Tell me, then. Why do you think the Behemoths came from the sky?"


    "Because the gods who left sent them there, and my father told me they are still out there somewhere. In fact, he thinks some of those old gods actually came down here to exact judgment on the Goddess."


    "And do you suppose they''re still here?"


    "I-I really don''t know."


    Ripley resigned himself, as he genuinely didn''t know the answer to that question.


    "Those were some strong words, smithson. I actually had fun," and Silt laughed. "I underestimated you there. I gotta hand it to you, knight. He really knows his stuff."


    "Yeah, I told you. He can fight back," he nodded.


    "So does that mean you two are okay now?" asked Marlowe.


    "Y-Yeah," Ripley said. "I''m sorry about what happened earlier, when we were hitching a ride on your Behemoth."


    "Don''t be!" she replied. "It is I who should be sorry. I didn''t think you would bite in to the standard Bulwark version of the story, and not only that, you actually know the Church version, which is a bit more accurate!"


    "Wait, there''s more than one version of the Goddess story?" Marlowe jumped from his seat.


    "Of course," said Lou. "I think there''s at least six versions of it, four of which are known in the Kingdom, but the general public only know of two, the Bulwark one and the expanded history that includes the reigns of previous kings. The other two, the Church and the Fanatic, you need to be a distinguished bigwig to get to hear it. I think Silt knows all of the versions and their differences?"


    "Yeah, but I still haven''t heard enough to warrant a clear picture," Silt said. "Anyway, Ripley''s right. The knight might have been a descendant of the Goddess. That''s probably why he''s so good at the magical arts. I can only manage a handful of weak spells, but he has a whole repertoire."


    "Stop it, Silt. You''re flattering me."


    "Wait," the blonde youth raised his hand. "What about what you said before the story began? Why do you find the Bulwark using Behemoths strange?"


    "Haven''t you figured it out, Marlowe?" said Ripley. "The demons that tried to attack the Goddess were an ancient kind of Behemoth. What do you think will happen if the Bulwark citizen found out that the army that''s protecting them is riding a demon that probably descended from those same demons?"


    "Eeeeeehhh?!" was Marlowe''s only response at the bold revelation.


    "Remember what I said earlier," the thief raised her finger. "Some secrets are best kept hidden. The entire reason for the war is because of the truth."


    "The truth about what?" he asked.


    "The truth about the goddess'' landing. That''s what!" she simply replied.


    "Then, what about my weapon?" Ripley questioned.


    "Well, let''s just save that for tomorrow. I think we all need a good night''s rest, don''t you think?" Lou yawned.

 8: The Ritual

    That night, Ripley couldn''t sleep.


    Rather, he felt like having slept for only an hour or two. His body felt uncomfortably hot under the stuffy underground chambers they were staying in. He rose up from his bed and headed outside, through the shack that burned two days past.


    When he got out, the sun hadn''t risen, the indigo sky dotted with only a handful of stars. The town still retained its sleepy disposition, despite the few Bulwark tents posted at the front gate, which was quite some distance away from where he was currently standing. He saw the two mercenaries engaged in some sort of ritualistic dance.


    "Oh, Ripley! You''re up early!" Silt greeted him, dressed in baggy clothes. Her head was still partially covered with a bandana, leaving a few locks of hair hanging freely. "We were just gathering some aether to fuel our trip."


    "Gathering aether?" he yawned. "What do you mean?"


    "Look," said Silt as she waved one arm, and a trail of glowing light was left in open space before disappearing. "For some reason, aether gathers best early in the morning. It''s like the Earth itself is in a sleep-like state, restoring its spent energy from yesterday."


    Ripley waved his arm around, and beheld the dazzling light show he had just created.


    "It''s beautiful, and kind of dangerous," he covered his mouth, and Silt giggled.


    "Glad you like it. It''s concentrated aether that''s dangerous, and that stuff is much more potent than this aether, which comes in trace amounts." She took a whiff of the morning air, and Ripley did the same. He should be feeling awkward and tense because of Silt''s presence, but instead, he felt calmer and invigorated.


    "Is that why you two are doing a weird dance?"


    "Partly. This dance was taught to me by my forefathers, and it''s the best method for harvesting aether. I tried other methods, like tying sails on the back of my Behemoth and driving around, but it wasted more aether than I thought."


    "Can I help?"


    "I don''t think you can. This dance is of ritualistic origin passed down from teacher to student. Not only do you need to learn the movements, but also you need extensive knowledge of aether flow, the position of the earth relative to the natural aether current, and the exact movements to make in particular times of day."


    "In other words, it''s a Shorin dance that takes ages to learn," Lou approached the two.


    "A Shorin dance?!" the young smith almost shouted. "Then, she must be Shorin!"


    "Silt''s home is actually not far from the Shorin mainland, but it was destroyed by the Blue Army some time ago," Lou answered. "So, yeah. You could say that."


    "Oh," Ripley frowned. "Um, how''s your leg?"


    "Better," he replied and removed the bandages from his leg. "Thanks to all this aether that sped up the healing process. You can still see a scar, though. Not like anyone can see it. So what brings you up this early in the morning? Practicing magic?"


    "He knows some magic?" Silt''s eyes widened. "You''re just full of surprises, smithson."


    "Uhh, n-no. Not much. I only know as much as what my father had taught me."


    "What did your father teach you?" asked the cat-eyed thief.


    "Only a barrier spell and a strengthen spell. Just enough to defend myself," he said.


    "That''s no good!" exclaimed the mercenary. "If you''re gonna defend yourself with magic, a barrier is not enough. You need to learn how to cast a missile."


    "A mana missile? But isn''t my gun enough for that?"


    "What are you thinking?!" she began to reprimand him. "It''s too dangerous of a weapon! Not only to your enemies, but to yourself! A gun has many advantages, but also many disadvantages. Granted, it can kill in a second, but only if you have bullets. And these bullets can explode if not handled properly! Not to mention how loud it is when fired. You''re better off learning some magic for self-defense!"


    "Calm down, Silt," Lou stopped her. "You''re such a worrywart."


    "Y-yeah," Ripley nodded. He wanted to add that she reminded him of Marlowe a bit, but decided against it. "So, about my revolver, can you tell me more about it?"


    "I suppose so," she said as scratched her cheek. "You already know that it''s a weapon from the bygone era of the gods, right? Well, there''s more to it than that, because that''s not the only kind of gun in those times. There are many of those in the so-called Blue Forges, but those are only replicas meant for display. Yours is a fully-functional gun, with all the bits and pieces intact."


    "Do you mean to say there are more powerful types of guns?" asked the mercenary.


    "Yes. Ripley''s revolver is a special kind that can fire six rounds before reloading, but there''s also a gun that can fire a thousand rounds per minute and a gun that can destroy a wall with a single shot, even a gun that can strike from as far as that peak to here. I''ve heard about those only in tales, though."


    Ripley''s heart sank as he heard the potential damage a gun can create. It''s no wonder Silt called it a dangerous weapon.


    "It''s a good thing I didn''t bring it with me today," he laughed sheepishly.


    "Good choice, smithson," Silt said. "Now if you''ll excuse me, I need to finish the ritual."


    She walked at the center of the clearing where she and Lou had danced and put one hand on the ground in a weird pose, and the ground below her started to write itself an intricate pattern, which glowed brightly. An intense wind brewed, gathering around the dancer in the middle of the formation, and with deft movements of her body, she led the aether and let it flow to where her Behemoth was hidden.


    Ripley was dazzled by this marvelous display of ritual magic, and was even more dazzled at Silt''s countenance. Her hair glowed blue as the ritual dance took place, the free bundles of hair stirring the wispy air in the area, creating a mesmerizing shower of light. Her cat-like eyes shone like gemstones as they reflected the light given off by the aether. Her clothes fluttered as she danced in a graceful air, giving the illusion that she was floating. Or maybe she really was floating?Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    It''s as if a goddess had landed right in front of him, Ripley thought.


    "Beautiful, isn''t it?" Ripley didn''t realize that Lou had been beside him. "Only Silt can finish the ritual dance, since she knows even more than I do. When you look at her like that, you begin to forget that she''s someone as dangerous as me. I should warn you, there''s a lot hidden in her than you might suppose. Her being Shorin is one thing, but that''s only scratching the surface."


    As the dancer finished with her dance, the aether wind began to die out, and the pattern drawn on the ground started to fade. She approached the two boys who had clapped at her performance.


    "Alright, you two. Enough clapping. The stage is set for your practice."


    "She''s right. Better get to it, Ripley." And Lou pushed the young smith to the center of the clearing. "First thing''s first. We need to get rid of your habit of uttering incantations. It slows down the casting process. You have to think fast, and think clear. Quick casting is key here."


    "How exactly can I do that?" he worriedly asked, but he received a mana missile as a reply. Luckily, it didn''t hit him.


    "Like so," and the expert magician fired a barrage of mana missiles at the initiate. Ripley tried to dodge the incoming storm, but Lou shouted at him.


    "Don''t dodge! That''s the whole point! Make a hard barrier as quick as you can! No incantations necessary! Don''t worry about getting hit! I''ve tweaked the missiles so that it only does little damage!"


    Two hours later, day broke, and Ripley''s crash course on quick-casting had ended.


    He had returned to the War Room covered in sweat and dust. His trusty companion Marlowe had just woken up from his slumber.


    "Good morning, Ripley," he said in a sleepy voice. "Why are you so dirty like that?"


    "Lou and I had training," he simply answered.


    "Early in the morning? You should''ve climbed up the Palmetto to see the sun rise. It''s beautiful, especially when you''re at the top."


    "I guess I missed it, then," but Ripley kept to himself that he had seen something more beautiful than a sunrise.


    "By the way, where''s Mr. Mercenary and Miss Silt?"


    "They''re outside preparing for our trip. We should pack up as well. Can you get me a wet towel? I need to wash myself."


    "I don''t keep wet towels in my collection. Go get your own. Here, a rag. There''s a water jug over there. Don''t waste it all on yourself, you hear?"


    And the young smith went and cleaned himself, wiping off the grime from his body.


    "Oh yeah," Marlowe said. "If you want to change clothes, there''s a fresh set in that room. You can change there while you''re at it."


    Ripley followed Marlowe''s suggestion, and found the same kind of clothes he was currently wearing. Surprised at this sight, Ripley asked in a suspecting tone.


    "How do you have matching clothing from the bygone era?"


    "Don''t ask me. All I know is that there''s a whole wardrobe of those. It''s where I got these baggy overalls. If you''d like, I can get you this huge army coat that looks like a dress."


    "N-No thanks. I think I''ll stick to this one."


    Ripley had finished changing in what seemed to him his uniform from today onwards, and sat down to wait for the goggled youth to finish. His revolver lay slung by his side.


    "Hey, Rip?" Marlowe called from another room.


    "Yeah?" he responded.


    "About yesterday," the goggled youth paused for a bit. "I''m sorry."


    "W-what?"


    "I mean, I didn''t get to do much. All I did was complain about stuff and be all negative about it. And I was a complete idiot for wasting one chance to get something valuable. Not to mention I was clueless about this Goddess thing. What''s the big deal about Her anyway? I mean, She did give us magic, but why can''t I use it?"


    "I guess it just depends on the person, Marlowe."


    "But look at you! You''re-" the goggled youth hesitated, but continued after getting the right words. "There''s just something about you that I can''t put my finger on. Maybe I''m just jealous of you. Your dad''s a distinguished member of the Blue Army, you know some magic, and you have a mercenary or two that answer to you. And one of them came with a Behemoth. What do I have? Nothing."


    "What are you talking about?! You''ve been a great help since the day before yesterday. Who was it that helped me with the box? Who was that led us to this place to hide from the Blue Army?"


    "The fight with the mercenary doesn''t count. All I did was throw stuff at him."


    "But it helped, didn''t it? Come on, Marlowe. You know I''m not good at this sort of thing."


    Ripley had always been on the receiving end of a pep talk, but now he found that he was on the other end. It was rare for Marlowe to be troubled about something, and even if he did find himself in a rut, it was only over petty things that can be forgiven easily. This time, however, seemed to be on a different scale. Ripley had to do something to cheer his friend up.


    He stood up and went to look for Marlowe, but he was already up and about.


    "What are you standing up for?" he said as he fixed up a smile. "Let''s go on an adventure!"


    "Wait, what about that talk earlier?" Ripley asked.


    "What talk? Now, come on! Breakfast is on me!" and the goggled youth dashed away, overalls clattering with the sound of things jostling around. Ripley followed.


    When the two youths were about to exit the tunnel system, they could hear sounds of marching from above them. They rushed outside and the two mercenaries greeted them.


    "You two, you better hurry," said Silt, who had donned her chainmail cloak. "The Blue Army''s gotten wind of our location, and we better get out of here fast."


    "Lemme guess," Marlowe crossed his arms. "It was your fault, wasn''t it?"


    "We had no choice," she said. "They were gonna find us sooner or later."


    "Heads up!" Lou stood at the top of the Behemoth. "Guardian-class Behemoth incoming. Also a bunch of transport types. Probably reinforcements from the Capital."


    "Oh no, you really done it now, you two!" Marlowe shouted.


    "On the contrary, it wouldn''t have mattered anyway. Better die with a bang than with a whimper, I''d say."


    "Quick, get on!" Silt ordered the two. The group clambered on, and the Behemoth rolled forth. The Blue Army had assembled right in front of them, but the metal wagon pierced through the gathering, and the crowd of men in uniform split itself. Some threw a few bolts of mana at it, but it was all in vain.


    "Boss!" Lou shouted from the wagon''s top. "It''s time to put what you have learned into practice!"


    "Are you crazy?!" Marlowe screamed with all his might.


    Silt''s face flashed from the screen artifact, and told the two remaining passengers.


    "This part''s gonna sound dangerous, but we have to defend ourselves until we arrive at the outpost!"


    "I thought we''re leaving Outpost!" he exclaimed.


    "Not this outpost! I''m talking about a different one, the one where the knight said Earl Nightjar might be. It''s actually one of the outposts he built du-"


    Silt was interrupted by a mana missile headed their way, and she swerved to the right to dodge it, shaking the contents of the wagon.


    "Look alive, Silt! We''ve got company!" said Lou.


    Ripley looked from the side of the Behemoth, and was shocked at what he saw.


    There were Behemoths with the same make as the one they were riding on, but these were also different. They were smaller and had two doors at its sides. What''s more, instead of wheel that spun around the ground, these had disks that lay flat, and they allowed the vehicles to float. A Blue Army soldier climbed on top of a hole in the roof of the vehicle and prepared to jump on top of theirs, but was blasted away with a mana missile.


    "Look, Ripley!" Marlowe pointed out. "Their Behemoths are floating! And there''s a big one over there!"


    The young smith rushed to the blonde''s side, and when he saw it, flashbacks of his escape became more vivid.


    "Oh my Goddess," was all Ripley could utter.


    It was the same type of Behemoth that had destroyed his house and appeared in his dream. It was built like an armored knight, with four wing-like protrusions jutting out of its back, and it towered over the rest of its kin, speeding and floating as they were. It held no weapon in its hand, but its presence was enough to strike fear in the hearts of many. Its head turned towards them and said, "Well, well, if it isn''t Lou Garramond."


    "Ah, Marcus! It''s been a long time!" he simply replied.


    "Did he say Marcus? As in, General Marcus?!" Silt said from the artifact.


    The moment Ripley heard the word ''general'', he knew they were in some serious business. Serious and dangerous business.

 9: The Chase

    The desert landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, but its austere stillness was disturbed by an entourage of metal beings, their loud rumblings piercing the silence of the morning.


    First was Ripley and his companions, riding a large Behemoth that resembled a wagon. Following them were smaller Behemoths that floated in mid-air, and behind them, a hulking great knight fashioned out of steel, crouching down yet floating, fire coming out of its back. Despite this, the group of Ripley never faltered, and they continued to propel themselves forward, with nothing to block them.


    The knight was currently conversing to the mercenary Lou, who was standing on top of the wagon.


    "How''s your dad, Marcus?" he casually asked the Behemoth. "Is he still in office, I''d presume?"


    "I am not here to talk about personal matters, Garramond!" it answered in a booming voice. It sounded like a young man''s voice, but altered in some way. It spoke with an imposing air, as if it was of royal descent. "I''ve taken it upon myself to impose judgment on you, and I will not let this chance slip by. Not without spilling your blood on the battlefield."


    "Oh, come on, Marcus! Don''t say it like that! Just tell me you want to settle the score! And wouldn''t it be better for the Kingdom if you catch me alive? After all, I''m a wanted man."


    As the two were engaged in a somewhat casual yet imposing talk, the passengers of the wagon Behemoth stirred.


    "You know him?" Marlowe asked Silt, whose face appeared in the screen artifact.


    "I''ve had a close brush with him once, but the knight knows more about him. All I know is that he''s one of the Blue Army''s generals that can pilot a Behemoth like that. He''s no technician, but his skills in maneuvering surpass mine. His Behemoth is the real threat. The Guardian-class can be armed with whatever weapon his driver chooses, and there''s no telling what he has in store for us."


    "You mean Marcus is not the Behemoth itself?"


    "Of course not!" Ripley chimed in. "Behemoths and their pilots are separate beings, but they need each other to function, quite unlike the ancient ones that attacked the Goddess. It''s because of the mana that paralyzed them. But if that''s the case, why do we need mana to drive this thing?"


    "Ask the technicians," Silt said. "They more about that sort of thing than I do. Luckily, your father is one, and we might be able to get to him."


    "Yeah, but after we get away from the Blue Army," said Marlowe. "What should we do?"


    "See that trapdoor below you? There''s a handful of flasks in there. Use those. Knight, get down from there. I''m opening the back."


    After she said that, a whirring sound can be heard. The walls of the Behemoth began to furl towards the front, and Lou hopped down from the top of the vehicle whose roof started to shrink.


    "What''s up, boss, little dude?" he greeted the two boys. He held his glowing sword in hand and prepared to shoot a few bolts of his own. "Looks like Marcus is not putting up without a fight. Are you ready?"


    Marlowe had scooped up as many flasks as he could carry, stuffing some of those in his baggy overalls. Ripley prepared his revolver, but Silt stopped him.


    "Don''t use your gun, smithson. No matter what. They might change their target from the knight to you."


    "But why?!" he asked. "This has something to do with Lou''s background, isn''t it?"


    "How perceptive of you," the mercenary grinned. "But now''s not the time to explain."


    "Oho, what''s this?" boomed Marcus. "It seems you have enlisted the help of a few minors. But that wouldn''t matter. After this sideshow, I''ll travel up the north for repairs andsit in leisure while your battered self gets dragged along the back of my Guardian. As for your friends, who knows? Maybe I''ll send them up north to help with the manual labor. Or have them become my loyal squires. It''s the least I could do to save these young ones."


    "Way to spoil your plans, General!" Lou shouted. "But thanks anyway! Shall we begin?"


    "Umm," Marlowe looked back towards the screen. "How exactly do I use these bottles?"


    "Shake and throw," Silt replied briefly. "Now I have to focus on driving." And Silt''s face disappeared.


    The floating Behemoths began maneuvering alongside Ripley''s group and attempted to ram the wagon they''re riding, but as they got close, Marlowe threw a flask at one of them, and as it hit the metal body, flames burst out and enveloped the Behemoth. However, that did little to stop it. Desperate, Ripley tried casting some spell, any spell, but Lou had already finished the job of firing a missile at the enemy.


    Ripley counted how many of these metal demons were chasing them. Four of the smaller ones were close by their tail, and one of them had been destroyed by the mercenary. Three larger Behemoths that looked similar to theirs were still some distance behind them, and further on was Marcus.


    The young smith studied the steel knight, and he saw that it was a marvel of design. But he didn''t get his chance to examine its finer features as Silt veered off and rammed the Blue Army Behemoth to their left. He was shaken, but some sense was brought back to him. He looked back towards the closest enemy he could find, and stretched out his hand.


    A few hours before, Ripley had suffered an intense training regimen from Lou. He had taught him two necessary things.


    One: Incantations are bad. They might help with the casting process, but they were simply keywords that helped the caster think of the spell vividly. As such, they caused the spell to stagnate, meaning that it can only be activated by mentioning those exact keywords, which takes up time.


    Two: Magic was all about thought. Since a caster''s mana is attuned to his body, he can do whatever with it. All he has to do is make a clear connection with it. Incantations dull this connection, as Lou had put it.


    Putting what he had learned together, the young smith cleared his thoughts and concentrated on a spell he had already known how to cast.


    A disk of mana quickly formed on his outstretched hand, and quickly folded itself into various shapes until it settled on an aerodynamic shape. With that done, he threw it at the Blue Army soldier driving the Behemoth, and it shattered, sending the driver out of his seat and tumbling in the sand. As for his vehicle, it careened out of control and crashed into one of the larger ones, and it exploded in a huge flaming mess.


    "Whoa!" Marlowe shouted in awe. "How did you do that?! I wish I could do that!"


    This minor deed was enough to warrant praise in a desert town which hasn''t seen magic, but in a battlefield, it''s a declaration to be targeted. And the Blue Army was quick to take the message.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    From out back, Blue Army soldiers emerged from the larger Behemoths. They formed barriers in mid-air and quickly hopped on one as it formed, creating another one in front of them as they went. Marlowe lobbed more flasks towards the reinforcements, but the soldiers blocked his volleys with another barrier. Ripley fired more mana missiles at them, this time smaller and faster, and managed to hit some of them as they were in the middle of their jump. But Lou, the mercenary, did something entirely different.


    He dove right in front of the skirmish, clashing with the soldiers head-on.


    He jumped high and formed his own barrier platform to stand on, but unlike the soldiers'' barriers which were left behind and disappeared after they''ve found their use, this barrier moved relative to the speed of the chase, so to a stationary observer, it looked like the barrier was zooming along with the Behemoths. When a soldier lunged towards the mercenary, he simply blocked his descent with a blocking barrier, and he fell off.


    The mercenary flew with his personal barrier below his feet, and dashed forward to attack the soldiers. Noticing this, they switched from barriers to projectiles and fired mana missiles at him, and he answered back with a crescent wave of mana that swept the ranks, destroying one small Behemoth in the process.


    Ripley was getting tired from casting mana missiles at enemies, and beside him, Marlowe was running out of flasks to throw. All in all, they managed to destroy six out of eight Behemoths, but that didn''t mean they were winning the battle.


    From across the horizon, another wave of Behemoths was approaching, consisting of smaller ones with floating disks for wheels. There were also Blue Army soldiers ready to fire a barrage of blue bolts towards them. And Marcus was getting closer.


    Silt made a huge right turn to avoid ramming the incoming parade and its volley, which swept the two youths off-balance and knocking them on the metal floor. The Behemoth caught a few shots, mostly from the front, but it escaped and was still in one piece.


    The young smith looked at the second wave of soldiers clambering atop their vehicles to resume the chase, but were quickly shot down by a crescent wave, disappearing in a cloud of desert sand. The mercenary had returned from his assault, and he hopped back down into the mangled Behemoth where Ripley and Marlowe were, still lying down.


    "So are we winning yet?" he asked and offered a hand to the two, who accepted it as they stood up.


    Silt''s face returned from the screen. "We still have a general and his Behemoth behind us. Not a good sign!"


    "I''m running out of stuff to throw!" Marlowe complained. "Do you still have more of those flasks? Maybe in another secret compartment?"


    The General was beginning to loom over them, its crouched form sliding through the hot sand. Marcus'' voice can be heard rambling about his task of ''ridding the pest Garramond'', as he had put it, but the group let it fall behind deaf ears.


    Then, as if trying to get their attention, its shoulders lit up, and in the next instant, a pair of glowing orbs were headed for the metal wagon. Specifically, they were aimed at the mercenary, who deftly tried to dodge and block the attack, but it proved formidable. The moment the large projectiles hit his barrier, the force of the impact was enough to push everyone inside. Fortunately, it gave Silt a huge speed boost.


    "Hey, Silt! I can''t block his shots! They''re too strong!" he shouted towards the front of their Behemoth. "We''re toast!"


    On the screen artifact, Silt pondered for a few seconds until she sighed and contorted her face in exasperation. And then, the screen shut itself off.


    The front door of the Behemoth opened, and Silt emerged, still wearing her chainmail cloak. Its various trinkets glittered under the growing blaze of the sun. She stepped forward, opened a hidden door under the floor, and took out a large metal tube, which she placed beside the onlookers.


    "I didn''t want to use this," she said, "but we''re in a bind."


    "Wait," Ripley thought out loud. "If she''s here, then¡­ who''s driving this thing?"


    Behemoths need drivers and pilots to function, he had mentioned. Silt being in front of them taking out some metal junk spelled disaster for the young smith. He saw how the enemy Behemoths spun out of control when their drivers were taken out. Are they going to suffer the same fate?


    He hurried to the front of the Behemoth to commandeer it. A wheel sat in front of a seat Ripley surmised to be the driver''s seat. Below it was a set of pedals, and on one of the pedals was a stone slab.


    "Don''t touch anything, smithson!" Silt shouted sternly. "I left it that way on purpose!"


    Ripley looked back, and Silt was arming herself. She knelt with one knee, metal tube slung across her shoulder, with a fruit-like case stuck at its tip. And it was aimed towards Marcus.


    In the next second, fire and smoke spewed towards Ripley, filling the front cabin. An explosion could be heard towards the back.


    "Don''t just stand there! Give me another round! Knight, cast your most powerful spell!" she ordered.


    "Sorry, Silt, but I''m all out of juice," reported the mercenary. "I can''t cast anything powerful until we rest."


    "Give it up, Garramond," Marcus'' voice threatened. "There''s no way you can dent this Guardian of mine. Anything you throw at me will simply be repelled by my armor!"


    "How about this?!" Silt barked as she fired another round, and this time, it hit the Behemoth squarely in the face, but it was still on the chase.


    "Thanks for shushing him! He was getting annoying and-" Lou cheered, but another pair from Marcus blocked out his chance to sneak in another word.


    The current battle was like a game of catch. Silt would fire a flaming fruit towards Marcus and his Guardian, who would then reply with a double mana missile large enough to destroy their wagon. If not for Lou who diverted and absorbed some of the missiles that came their way, their journey to the mountains would''ve stopped then and there.


    Every once in a while, the two sides would take a breather before going on their next assault. At that time, Lou would make gashes on the floor and Silt would retreat back to the driver''s seat to adjust the levers, and then return to the fight with a fresh set of metal fruits. And then, it happened.


    The glow on Lou''s sword intensified, as well as the gashes on the floor, which formed a pattern as the mana droplets coursed their way through. He held Silt''s shoulder and pointed the glowing sword towards the Guardian, who was still recovering the mana it lost when it fired its volleys.


    "Ripley! Hold on to me and concentrate! You''ll know what to do!" and the young smith grabbed Lou''s back and thought hard.


    Meanwhile, Marlowe was simply staring at them weirdly. "Wait, what about me?!"


    "Go to the front and you''ll find a red lever!" Silt answered without looking back. "On my signal, pull it hard! Ready?!"


    A point of light formed at the tip of Lou''s sword, growing by the second. Silt''s fruit-like round was also glowing with intense light. Ripley concentrated on this light point, and he closed his eyes shut so that he could focus on the spell. His feet flooded with blue light as the pattern below him started to emit sparks.


    Can you hear me, Ripley? A voice called from inside his head. It was Lou''s.


    He opened his eyes, and found himself in a different world. Blue streaks traveled backwards, and the forms of Lou and Silt were enveloped in a blue haze. Marcus'' Guardian appeared as a dark shade save for a single humanoid form resting at its core. The pattern below him swirled, and time seemed to flow in a slower pace.


    The young smith had seen this same scene yesterday, while they were hunting for Silt.


    Don''t worry, reassured the voice. It''s all in your head. Your mana is attuned to mine and is now coursing through that point over there. When Silt says the go signal, you let go and jump.


    He wanted to ask a few questions, but he focused on the Behemoth right in front of him.


    The point of light quivered, as if ready to release its pent-up energy. Ripley saw this as some sort of signal, but he kept for Silt''s word.


    Silt fired her last round of explosive, and it sped right to the Guardian''s head, exploding in an intense blue flame as it hit. When she saw the Behemoth still moving, she nudged the mercenary.


    Okay, boss. We can let loose now. Lou said through his mind, and Ripley consented.


    In the next instant, light enveloped Ripley''s vision. It wasn''t a blinding light, but it brought so much power he could feel it through his skin. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like minutes under his slowed perception of time.


    When the light cleared, the Guardian was charred beyond recognition. One of its arms was consumed by the light, leaving a large gaping hole at its side. Ripley could see sparks fly through the burned hole. And then, after something shot upwards, the Guardian-class Behemoth exploded in a ball of flame.


    "We actually did it!" Ripley couldn''t believe it. "We destroyed a Guardian-class Behemoth!"


    "You did what?!" Marlowe craned his head. "Does that mean we killed the pilot or driver or whatever he was?"


    "Sadly, no. But it''s okay now. You can let go of that lever," said Silt as she returned to the driver''s seat.


    "Anyway, what was that lever for?"


    "A contingency plan. If ever the knight failed, that lever will activate the emergency override, and this Behemoth will crash with General Marcus'', which would''ve destroyed it."


    "What?!" Marlowe shrieked. "But that would mean I''d lose all the stuff in here! And our ride!"


    "Well, let''s put all that behind us, shall we?" Lou tilted his head back. "What matters is that we''re still in one piece."


    And the group of four, with their battered metal wagon, pressed onwards in their journey to the northern lands, where Earl Nightjar might be waiting.

 10: The Cloud of Doubt

    "Remind me," the goggled youth said. "Where are we headed again, exactly?"


    Ripley and his companions Marlowe and Lou were slumped in one corner of the cabin eating their lunches, their backs pressed against its metal walls. Their driver Silt was, well, driving, but she was able to communicate with them thanks to an artifact that allowed her face and voice to be displayed on a screen.


    "Outpost 17," the driver said through the artifact. "Like I mentioned earlier, it''s one of the outposts that Earl Nightjar built during his service with the Bulwark Kingdom. It''s a key location, because it sits on top of a large mana deposit, and they''re still mining it to this day. That probably explains why Marcus and his Behemoths were headed up north. Not only to refuel, but also to be repaired by the great technician himself."


    "Assuming he''s there," Lou cut in. "I''m only telling you he''s there because I sensed his signature in that location at the time I scanned. Not to sound like a complete pessimist, but what if he''s in a different spot from Outpost 17? Maybe by the time we get there, he''d have moved to another location."


    "I don''t think so," Silt countered. "As I said, Earl Nightjar has a connection with that place. He probably has a workplace there, and with whatever the Blue Army''s plans are, they need him for that."


    "Umm," Marlowe raised his hand. "I''d hate to point this out, but you guys don''t seem to care that we destroyed a group of Behemoths. I mean, you lot managed to destroy General Marcus'' Guardian with your combined efforts."


    "Yeah, but he''ll be back," Lou replied. He had more to say, but he was interrupted by a low rumble. The Behemoth shook, throwing the three passengers to the side wall. It staggered for a few seconds until it came to a complete stop, lurching to the side.


    Noticing this sudden change, all those aboard the Behemoth, including Silt, got off to check the problem. One of the Behemoth''s wheels was smoking, as if it had suffered a major impact.


    Silt clicked her tongue in annoyance. "They''re still on our tail. I thought you had destroyed that second wave, knight!"


    "I might have," he responded, "but then I might have not." He unsheathed his sword in preparation for another round of battle.


    The chainmail-clad thief beckoned the two youths to their side as the Blue Army soldiers, on their Behemoths, surrounded the group. It was only a small group, consisting of three smaller Behemoths and one personnel carrier.


    "These must be the stragglers who managed to not get wrecked," Ripley thought out loud. His hand was prepared to grab the gun by his side. "I think we can take them."


    "You think?!" Marlowe snapped. "Stop pushing yourself! You''re still tired from all that casting, Rip! And don''t think about using the revolver! Miss Silt told you!"


    Ripley''s group inched closer. The two mercenaries took care of the outer perimeter while the two youths were safe in the center.


    "Don''t do anything rash, you two. Let the more experienced folk take care of this," said Lou. "Ready, Silt?"


    "You don''t have to tell me twice!" and she leapt towards the incoming Behemoth and yanked the driver off his seat. Lou had taken care of the incoming soldiers who were shooting missiles at them by launching some of his own. The larger Behemoth unloaded its cargo of reinforcements who immediately proceeded to the skirmish.


    The young smith had already seen the mercenary Lou fight against the Blue Army, easily eliminating one man after another. That''s when he noticed something.


    The Nightjar sword withstood the attacks of the soldiers, but when it was Lou''s turn to attack, the sword cleaved cleanly through the group. But for some strange reason, no blood was shed. Stranger still, the soldiers were still in one piece, but they were now collapsed in a dead heap.


    Meanwhile, Silt took care of the other end. Taking a flask or two from her chainmail, she threw them under the enemy''s feet, enveloping them in smoke that disorientated his fellow soldiers. She entered the smoke cloud, and then it dissipated, revealing a group of unconscious soldiers and a chainmail-clad Silt, who was still holding a soldier in a choke hold.


    The Blue Army reinforcements didn''t stand a chance against the duo of Lou and Silt. The remaining two approached them, Marlowe running and thanking them in the process, and Ripley walking behind, still feeling uneasy around a pile of their enemies.


    "I guess that takes care of that," Lou returned his sword in its sheath. "But what are we gonna do about our ride?"


    "Look out!" Marlowe shouted, and everyone turned to where he was pointing at.


    One of the soldiers had recovered, his sword pointed towards the group. He was about to launch a mana missile at them. Noticing this cue, Ripley reached for his gun, but found that it wasn''t where it should be. Silt had already grabbed it.


    It all happened in a flash. With a flick of the wrist, she unfurled the revolver, emptying its cylinder. She threw a bunch of nails in the air and swiped the gun horizontally. She spun around, her chainmail cape billowing, until the gun was pointed at the soldier, and with a quick volley, fired at him. The Blue Army soldier was struck down before he managed to fire his magic missile.


    Ripley couldn''t believe his eyes. There was someone who was much more skillful at handling a gun that he, and she was right in front of him.


    "Well, that''s a flashy way to kill someone," Lou commented.


    Silt approached Ripley and handed him his gun.


    "Next time, be careful about your personal belongings," she warned. "Always scan your immediate surroundings, and don''t focus on the spectacle. I''m sure your friend Marlowe knows what I''m talking about."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "A-are they dead?" his throat quavered.


    "Only that guy''s dead," said Lou. "The rest are unconscious. So were the guys that chased us yesterday, in case you''re asking about that."


    Lou''s words brought Ripley comfort, knowing that the soldiers that tried to attack them are still alive. But the sense of relief was only temporary, as his thoughts spiraled into past happenings, when he shot the gun without any second thought.


    "Miss Silt, what about our ride?" Marlowe asked."The Behemoth''s all banged up, from what I can see. Does that mean we should abandon it and walk the rest of the way to the outpost?"


    "We''ll see about that," she replied. "The wheels are replaceable, but sadly, I don''t have the tools to remove them."


    "Why don''t we just take that wagon over there?" Ripley suggested and pointed at one of the Blue Army''s personnel carriers.


    "And leave all our stuff behind?!" Marlowe glowered. "We can''t have that. All of Miss Silt''s valuable treasures are gonna go to waste in this desert. We can''t leave those, right Miss Silt?"


    "Well," she pondered,"on the bright side, a future generation will find its ruins and benefit from them."


    "But the cold box!" The goggled youth''s eyes began to water.


    "Alright, I''ll carry it to our new ride," the mercenary offered. "It would be a waste to leave that there. And also the fuel. And the screen. And did I mention the cold box?"


    The cat-eyed thief grumbled and said, "Fine. I''ll give you two minutes."


    After the given time limit, the crew finally managed to hitch another ride with another Behemoth and move all the necessary items. Luckily, it was the same make as that of Silt''s former Behemoth, with four wheels on a large cabin. Marlowe, with the help of Lou, managed to move the cold box from its former location, which took some considerable amount of time to setup up into working condition. The remaining fuel on Silt''s Behemoth was siphoned off and bottled for future use.


    "I''ve been meaning to ask this back then," Ripley began to speak, "but if it''s mana that stopped the Behemoths in the first place, why do they use it as their fuel? It''s really strange when you think about it."


    "Excellent question, smithson," responded Silt. "But unfortunately, even I don''t know the answer to that. Maybe the miners at the outpost can help you."


    "Then," Ripley continued, "there''s another thing I want to ask." And he turned to Lou and asked him, "Who are you, really?"


    Faced with a simple yet weighed question, Lou''s grin disappeared from his face.


    "Two days ago, you said you took my father''s sword, and you are able to use it even with the magic lock intact. For someone so young, you''re able to use advanced magic spells that take years to master. At first, I thought that you were simply a Blue Army initiate who abandoned his duty, but I''m beginning to suspect that there''s more to it than that. Why do they call you a knight, and why would you fight against your own kingdom?"


    Ripley didn''t stop there. He turned to Silt and attacked her with another series of questions.


    "And you. You''re Shorin, but you''re here in the kingdom''s territory, helping out someone like him. You even claim you know my father''s craft, and that he taught you a bit of the Behemoth''s secrets. What''s more, you not only have knowledge of the old age''s weapons, you even have some of them with you. Just who are you guys? And why do you do so much to help me, when all I want is to find my father?"


    "Wait, she''s Shorin?!" Marlowe stood up.


    "I guess I forgot to tell you," Ripley apologized as he scratched the back of his head.


    A brief silence rolled on after the young smith finished voicing his doubts in a barrage. Over the course of two days, the cloud of doubt circling over him had grown close to bursting, and he let it loose when he couldn''t take the pressure. The mercenaries, or so they claim, exchanged glances and then Silt told him,


    "How perceptive of you. Just what you would expect of Earl Nightjar''s son."


    Lou said, "Alright, we''ll tell you everything you need to know, but only after we arrive at the outpost."


    After hitching a ride inside the makeshift oven for about two hours, the group finally reached the northern rim of the desert basin, which was barred by an imposing steel gate and sentries. These sentries wore desert garb that covered their faces and gave the illusion that their bodies were larger than they actually were.


    Each of the sentries was holding a large pike, and when the group''s Behemoth lumbered in front of the gate, they didn''t waste any time in gathering around it, pointing their weapons as they went.


    "State your business, traveler," said one of the sentries.


    "Do I even need to tell you?" she replied, revealing her face, and as soon as he recognized her, the sentry tapped his pike on the ground twice and shouted to his companions at the gate.


    "Let them pass!"


    And then, the massive gate opened, revealing an incredible sight. The mountain pass had more guards on top of the cliffs, ready to strike with crossbows on turrets. As they moved on slowly, they could see all kinds of accommodations. There were houses made of thatch that were suspended on wooden stilts, buildings made of clay, and cave-like structures sticking out of the cliff faces, and as they got deeper, the houses changed material from wood and stone to metal.


    Ripley was relieved that they had finally reached civilization, but he was still on edge because of the heavy security.


    "Are they with the Shorin or the Bulwark?" he asked.


    "From what I can tell, they seem to be neutral," said Marlowe. "I assumed that this was a Bulwark colony, but when I saw the guards, they don''t seem to be wearing their uniform."


    "The little dude''s right," Lou popped from between the two youths, shocking them. "This colony sits right at the edge of the border between Shorin lands and the Bulwark Kingdom, making this a very strategic location on top of being a mana hotspot. But things in here are a bit complicated, because while this is a Bulwark colony and they fend off any Shorin invaders, the residents in here rebel against the kingdom''s current reign."


    "So does that mean we''re safe in here?" Ripley guessed.


    "Yeah, we are. For the time being, at least."


    Silt finally stopped the Behemoth right in front of a bustling town square where other metal wagons were gathered. The sights were mostly the same with those of inside the Palmetto, except for the fact that this was an industrial complex, with smokestacks, minecarts, and various wheels and cogs that seemed to be everywhere.


    And there was more.


    "Hoen!" Silt called out to a person above them.


    She did her red hair in two braids that hung at the sides, and she wore a blouse and a miner''s jacket. As soon as Silt had called out to her, she came down using a platform manipulated by gears and winches, and as she got closer, Ripley noticed she was wearing large-rimmed glasses on her face. Also, she brought with her a slate.


    "Silt! You came back!" she greeted with a high-pitched voice and hugged her. "And Lou''s here!" she beamed, her voice rising even more.


    Lou tried to dodge Hoen as she jumped and tried to hug him, but he was captured.


    "Whoa there!" he said as he pushed her back. "Easy on the hugs, missy."


    "So, did you hear the news?" she asked.


    "We didn''t just hear it," Silt reported. "We saw them first hand. More precisely, these two saw them."


    Upon Silt''s signal, Lou brought forward the two desert youths, who were feeling uncomfortable in the presence of a brand new stranger. Ripley was about to begin his account before Hoen interrupted.


    "These kids? You must be evacuees. That story can wait. For now, let''s gather what we all know inside the tunnel."


    "Shouldn''t we wait for the Chief?" Silt suggested.


    "That''s actually a better alternative," Hoen said. "I think I''ll just give these two young ones the grand tour."


    She then led the group through a large tunnel carved from the side of the mount''s base, its entrance spanning about a dozen or so armspans. Unlike the insides of the War Room, which were artificially illuminated by torches and fire lamps, the interior was brightly lit with crystals that lined its smooth walls at intervals.


    "Since this is your first time here, let me give you two a warm welcome." She ran forward, her voice echoing throughout the artificial cavern, and raised her arms as if bragging about its size. "I''ll be your guide, Hoen Termina. Welcome to Refinery City!"

 11: The Grand Tour

    Ripley still had questions. Questions that needed answers.


    He was going to ask their guide Hoen Termina everything he had wanted to know, but she was busy rattling about the city, as she had offered a tour for the new people.


    According to her, Refinery City prides itself as the largest industrial complex in the known lands, its size rivaling that of the Capital''s. With mana being its top commodity, it''s no secret that Behemoths of all kinds gather around to be maintained and dismantled. The cave, she had said, was only the entrance, even though it was large enough for at least six houses. Its walls were lined with a few archways, which were additional entrances that led to different areas.


    "That archway leads to the residential area," the tour guide gestured towards their left, "and opposite that leads to the worker''s lounge. Right next to it is where we keep our machine tools. Oh, I don''t mean the Behemoths, by the way. They''re kept outside because we just don''t have enough room for them."


    "Speaking of which," Lou interrupted. "Silt''s is in dire need of refurbishing. Can you have it taken care of?"


    "Well, of course," the tour guide replied. "Come to think of it, you two always turn up in a beaten transport type. Not that I mind, considering the kind of work you do."


    "Oh, Hoen, you tease," the mercenary waved his hand as if to swat away a fly.


    "Nevermind that!" Silt insisted. "Let''s just go to the Chief and tell him what we know. It''s better if we share our knowledge in order to see the bigger picture. Where is he, anyway?"


    "Busy down at the lower levels, and he won''t be back until sundown" Hoen''s shoulders slumped. "I meant to tell you sooner, but oh well. Let''s just continue with the tour."


    They arrived at a space that appeared to be larger than it looked, a hollow opening inside a mountain. A giant chasm seemed to reach forever, multi-colored lights swarmed the walls, giving the impression that nighttime arrived early. Rather, it looked like the night sky pooled along the surface of the earth, or in this case, under it. Civilization lined along its rim, busy with everyday happenings. But unlike the scenes from Outpost, the scenes from the Refinery City have an industrial feel to it.


    "I''ve never seen so many star lamps in one place," Ripley breathed in.


    "Oh, but that''s only a fraction of the lighting," boasted Hoen. "You should go down the base of the chasm, which is thirteen levels down. Best be careful around the edges. There''s a reason for those handrails."


    "So it''s like a reverse Palmetto, only bigger," Marlowe thought out loud.


    "A reverse Palmetto?" she wondered. "What''s that?"


    "Oh, it''s just this very tall building in Outpost," he replied immediately.


    "Outpost? But this is an outpost, silly! Outpost 17 was its old name before it got changed to Refinery City."


    As the group of five rode on one of the elevators that ferry people from one level to another, Hoen began to talk about how the city had started from a small military outpost during the earlier times of war. After the Goddess'' sacrifice and the miracle of mana spread throughout the planet, some of the mana particles pooled in select spots on earth, and the outpost happened to be on one of those spots.


    It was also here that the usage of mana began to be discovered, and so the people harvested this strange new particle. Over time, as people harvested the mana and gave it various uses, they built residential areas around the large hole that they have dug, until the outpost grew into what it is currently.


    "Wow," said Marlowe. "But still, this mining shaft is kind of like a reverse Palmetto."


    "There he goes again! What''s this Palmetto you speak of?" the tour guide asked.


    "Like I said, it''s a tall building where I''m from. And in case you''re gonna ask, I''m from Outpost!"


    "But what are you talking about?! Refinery City IS an outpost!"


    Seeing that they weren''t getting through, Silt stopped the stubborn people and explained the situation clearly.


    "They''re from a desert outpost that we didn''t even know existed."


    "Really? Then we must put it in our maps! I better tell Dad about this," and she scrawled on her trusty slate. "Tell me, is it a neutral camp? Where is it located? How many clicks from here?"


    "Hoen, you just switched roles," Lou pointed out. "You were supposed to give us the tour, weren''t you?"


    "Oh, right," she composed herself. "Sorry. Where was I?"


    "The origin of Refinery City''s name?" Ripley suggested.


    "Ah, yes. True to its name, Refinery City is where we refine most of the world''s mana, but we don''t just refine. We also mine for it."


    "Excuse me, but you can''t mine mana," Marlowe went in, arm raised in objection.


    "I''m sorry, what?" Hoen took the bait. Her face seemed to tremble as she was trying to hold her temper.


    "You need to extract it first from aether, but that takes some effort. The best way to do it would be to extract it from living beings. I should know, and you should too. How are you supposed to mine something gaseous?"


    Ripley knew about mana''s multiple states in his magical studies. Theoretically, mana behaves a bit like molecules, meaning to say that it can exists in solid, liquid, and gaseous forms. Mana exists mostly like a gas, and with his experiences with Marlowe, liquid mana can take weeks to refine. Solid mana is unheard of.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "Well, I didn''t expect you to know so much about mana extraction," Hoen said, the anger from her face dissipated. "But you''re right, for the most part. It''s true that we also gather mana from the air, but only during certain hours of the day."


    She approached a small vein of crystals that gave off luminescence and chipped off a shard, the stump giving off vapors as it shattered from its base, and gave it to the two youths. Marlowe''s eyes glowed like the crystal piece he was holding.


    "See this crystal? It''s the result of high concentrations of mana gathering around the surroundings, coalescing into these crystals over time. And it''s these crystals that we mine for mana."


    "I never knew that," he said with wonder, then regret. "I shouldn''t have done it the hard way."


    "But mind you, we don''t mine all of it. We let some veins grow when they''re depleted, and we come back when they''re large enough. Of course, we also mine for the usual metals, and we refine those in here, as well."


    "Hear that, Ripley? They probably have stuff you deal with. You know, smelters and whatnot. You don''t have to worry about getting scrap metals."


    Ripley simply nodded. He was entranced at the piece of mana crystal Hoen gave them.


    "Oh yeah," Hoen suddenly beamed. "Why don''t I show you guys how to refine mana from that crystal you''re holding?"


    "Well, that''s our cue," said Lou. "I''m gonna leave those two to you, Hoen."


    "But where are you going?" Ripley asked.


    "We''re gonna look for the Chief ourselves," said Silt.


    Ripley wanted to protest, as they have stuff to tell him beforehand, but someone already beat him to the punch.


    "But you can''t leave!" It was Hoen who said that. "At least, not yet! I don''t even know these two! I''m a tour guide for today, not a-."


    No sooner than she had finished complaining, the two mercenaries had already left for one of the other platforms.


    "Well, there they go again," she heaved a worried sigh. "They never stay in one place, but I shouldn''t complain. Come on."


    She led the two people, dismounting from the elevator into another ring-like chamber like the upper levels. Workers can be seen with tanks on their backs and masks on their faces unloading a familiar glowing liquid to canisters, which were loaded onto crates and delivered to the surface.


    "Look, Ripley!" Marlowe pointed excitedly. "That must be one of the miners Miss Hoen was talking about!"


    Hoen approached one of the workers, talked to him for a bit, and took one canister of mana.


    "Follow me, you two, and I''ll show you how the refining process works."


    "But don''t we have the crystal for that?" Marlowe asked.


    "Oh?" she widened her eyes, and then shouted, "Ah, I forgot!" She blushed with embarrassment, but laughed it off soon after. "But we still need this canister, though. For comparison. Could you hold this for me?"


    Ripley offered to hold on to the canister, which was the size of a small barrel used to store alcohol. Unlike those, however, this canister was made of metal, and it had a capsular shape, with a glass window that allowed the liquid mana to shine through it. He could also hear a low, humming sound coming from the canister, but that''s probably from the nearby elevators.


    Hoen stopped at one of the rooms labeled "Refining Station #3", which was filled with all kinds of industrial salvage. Empty canisters lay strewn across the floor. A large Behemoth-like contraption occupied most of the room.


    "Sorry about the mess," she said. "We''re shorthanded, you see. Most of the experienced people left for the Capital."


    "Maybe we can help," Marlowe suggested.


    "Oh, no! You don''t have to help out. After all, you''re still-"


    Before she could finish, the goggled youth had already taken one of the empty canisters and started cleaning.


    "Young? We''re already of age, Miss Hoen! This is nothing compared to what I do in the desert."


    "Marlowe''s right," Ripley added. "Consider this our thanks for accepting us."


    The tour guide was left at a loss for words as the two youths began the cleaning operations, placing empty canisters on one corner and the rest of the waste on a rusted minecart. A table held some of the salvageable pieces, including the various equipment needed to refine mana, and Hoen was about to show them.


    "So, uhh," she stopped for a bit, taking a huge breath to calm herself. "We have here this piece of mana crystal. You can see inside there a glow. That''s the core of what we''ll extract, and to extract it, there are many different ways. The most common way is to grind it into a fine powder, mix a little bit of water, and blend it."


    She demonstrated it in front of the two, breaking the crystal using a hammer and grinding some of the little pieces using a mortar and pestle. The fine powder was funneled into a bottle of water and shaken. When she presented the resulting solution to them, Marlowe wasn''t impressed.


    "And that''s it? That''s just some blue rock slurry you call mana! And to think you''re the largest importer of the product, but it turns out you''re selling fakes!"


    "B-but we''re not done yet!" Hoen bleated. "T-that''s still part of the process. Usually, we let the minerals settle and filter the water out, but that takes a long time. Where''s the centrifuge?"


    "Wait, a centrifuge?" Ripley repeated.


    "We need it to separate the particulate mana from the minerals. It''s easier to separate when you have a mix like this, and it''s also faster. Ahh, there it is!"


    She took a crude-looking mechanism, a small table with holes attached to a handcrank, and placed the bottle on one of the holes. She then furiously turned the handcrank until she gave out. After catching her breath, she poked a hole on the topmost part of the bottle, took a small, empty vial, and filled it with the dripping liquid.


    "And here," she waved the small vial at the two, "is the result of a painstakingly laborious process of extracting mana. These days, we use Behemoths to do the job."


    "Wow, it''s awfully small compared to what you get on a daily basis," remarked Marlowe.


    "With all that mana, I don''t think the city delivers all of it to various places," Ripley wondered. "They must use at least some fraction of what they harvest for their own. Right?"


    "Funny you should mention that," Hoen answered. "The city actually uses up more mana than it ships out. The entire floor below this is comprised solely of large Behemoth hearts, which power up everything in here. Pumps, conveyors, filters, smelters, even the star lamps. You could say that the entire city is a Behemoth in itself."


    "In the truest sense, most likely," the young smith mused.


    And then, it hit him. He had forgotten about it while he was captivated by Hoen''s demonstration, despite Hoen suffering in the process. What if the entire city was actually a Behemoth, and that''s the reason why the city is sought after by the Blue Army, not as a fuel station, but as a large weapons facility?


    With the demonstration done, Hoen escorted the two guests back to the upper levels and were surprised that Lou and Silt were already waiting for them, alongside two older people. One of them was a burly man wearing the typical industrial gear: a hard hat, overalls over a shirt, and working boots. His bearded face shone as he saw the three got off the elevator.


    "Dad!" Hoen rushed and hugged her father, who caught and twirled her in the air. The young smith''s heart festered with envy as he saw this sight, but he thought of this action as a bit immature for the tour guide, who was about the same age as that of the two mercenaries.


    "There she is! How''s my little girl doing with the various checks?" the chief chuckled as he greeted Hoen.


    "Before that, could you two stop it with the cheesy exchange?" Lou interrupted. "I know how much you think of your father-daughter mechanics as inseparable, but we''ve got more important things to talk about."


    "Ahh, yes. You''re right. As expected of you, Sir Knight."


    "Again with the ''sir Knight''! I thought I told you to stop call me that!"


    "Sorry, force of habit. I just didn''t expect you to return so soon, and with one of our scouts, to boot."


    As for the other man, Ripley couldn''t see him clearly, as the shadows helped obscure his figure. He said to the other man,


    "Some old habits just don''t go away, don''t they, Joe?"


    "Come off it, Earl!" he replied. "Unlike you, I didn''t leave the army and desert the kingdom for his family!"


    "But you still did it anyway! I mean, look at you, doting on your daughter like that."


    The moment Ripley heard this other man''s voice, his heart leapt out of his chest.


    "Is that you, Father?"

 12: The Fragment

    He couldn¡¯t believe it. Everything that had transpired in the past two days had finally culminated to this moment.


    After crossing the desert basin and destroying a few Behemoths along the way, Ripley finally got his father back.


    But there was something different about him.


    He didn¡¯t look like the blacksmith that raised him and helped him train in the art, with hair that could easily be mistaken as fur and garb that was rugged and weather-beaten over time. Instead, his hair and face were trimmed, giving him a clean yet imposing look, and his clothing resembled a military uniform, which gave an air of experience.


    The man looked more like a high-ranking officer rather than a lowly tinker, but Ripley didn¡¯t care.


    His heart swelled with emotion, tears welled in his eyes, and his feet burst with renewed fervor as he rushed towards him. He embraced him tightly, fearing that he will lose him again, not eager to let him go another time, though he knew that was highly unlikely in a subterranean mining shaft with minimal security. Besides, the only people present were people he knew.


    Except that when he made contact with the man, his hands simply slipped through the air and clasped the nearest possible object, which was the other man. The young smith didn¡¯t notice this, and so, continued to bawl in front of the surprised group.


    Only after a while did Ripley¡¯s sobs subside, and he finally noticed that something was off. He looked up to see not his father¡¯s face, but the chief¡¯s.


    ¡°Easy there, little one,¡± he chided, a mix of care and bewilderment in his voice. ¡°Hey, Earl, I didn¡¯t know you had a son!¡±


    The one who was shocked the most by this was, actually, the man who was supposedly Ripley¡¯s father.


    ¡°I have a son?!¡± he shouted, seemingly perplexed by the notion. Yet there he was, right in front of him.


    However, when Ripley heard his response, he immediately stood up, his face contorting with an unexplainable emotion. But while he didn¡¯t know how he was feeling, he knew why he was feeling it. For a brief moment, he had this immense sense of relief, that their journey had finally come to an end, and yet somehow, that precious bit of happiness was taken from his very eyes.


    ¡°Are you really my father?¡± he stared at the man.


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said with biting force.


    ¡°Then, how are you even here?!¡± Ripley said, adding force to his voice. He felt insulted that the man he had sought after didn¡¯t even recognize him.


    ¡°Ripley, this isn¡¯t the best time to break down and cause a mess,¡± Marlowe warned.


    Ripley hurriedly inched closer to the man, who looked like he was going to back away. He stretched out his hands to touch him, but they touched nothing. They simply passed through the man, whose image simmered before him like a film of oil on water.


    ¡°You¡¯re not real,¡± Ripley muttered.


    ¡°What are you talking about? Of course I¡¯m real!¡± the man scoffed. ¡°As real as everyone in this very room.¡±


    ¡°Are you playing an elaborate joke on me?!¡±


    Before trouble escalated, the mercenaries created some distance between the supposedly father-and-son pair.


    ¡°Well, this didn¡¯t turn out to be the reunion I was hoping for,¡± Lou remarked, pushing Ripley away.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if this came as sudden news to you,¡± Silt fanned the flames down. ¡°but try to relax yourselves. Both of you!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not really helping them calm down with that tone of voice, Silt.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not helping with them quips either! Are you trying to make me mad?¡±


    Ultimately, it took the combined effort of the remaining people to diffuse the situation.


    ¡°Silt, what is this?¡± the man asked. ¡°Mind explaining what¡¯s going on here? I thought I told to seek answers, not add more questions!¡±


    Ripley nodded in agreement. For once, the source of his growing disappointment had the same thought as he.


    ¡°Umm, why don¡¯t we all head outside and let some steam get out of our system?¡± Hoen suggested.


    ¡°Yeah, best if we explain everything from the beginning,¡± the chief added, ¡°especially with what Earl¡¯s been involved with.¡±


    And so, all seven of them made their way back to the main tunnel and headed outside, navigating their way through the labyrinthine passageways of the industrial complex. The overcast sky was starting to give way to dusk, prompting the citizens to activate their star lamps by waving their hand towards the glass receptacle that contained a mixture of aether and other inert gases.


    The chief did the same as they arrived on an alcove overlooking the vastness of the busy metropolis. The cave entrance to the gaping chasm was visible from here, as well as the massive gate that kept outsiders at bay. It was a perfect place for someone who runs a city as massive as it is, to be able to observe a proper working society.


    ¡°So, where do we even begin?¡± the chief offered as the group looked for a place to sit. ¡°Introductions. I¡¯m Johannes Termina, but you can call me Joe. I run this place from top to bottom, but not without the help of Earl here, who acts as my advisor. You¡¯ve met my daughter, Hoen. She¡¯s my second-in-command while I¡¯m busy digging the lower levels. There¡¯s Lou Garramond, one of the youngest Magic Knights, and Siltrainn, one of our best scouts. So,¡± he clapped his hands, ¡°I take it all of you have taken the tour?¡±


    A cacophony of replies burst forth all at once.


    ¡°No need for us,¡± Lou reported. ¡°We already know the place inside and out.¡±


    ¡°Skip the formalities already and get to it!¡± Silt protested.


    ¡°She already did, sir,¡± Marlowe answered, finger pointed towards Hoen. ¡°Rather, she¡¯s still giving us the tour.¡±


    ¡°And who are you supposed to be?¡± Joe asked.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Marlowe, and this is Ripley,¡± he introduced by tapping his shoulder. ¡°We actually come from the south part of the desert.¡±


    ¡°Well, fancy that! Desert deserters!¡± the chief stroked his beard. ¡°And pretty young ones, too! Judging from your closeness to Earl¡¯s son, you must be his brother!¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± the blonde was quick to reply.


    ¡°His sister, then?¡±


    Marlowe shouted, ¡°Why would you think that?! Just because I said no to the previous statement!¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Sorry about my friend Marlowe,¡± Ripley stopped him from causing more trouble. ¡°He gets ticked off easily. Anyway, I have something, no, a lot of things to ask.¡±


    ¡°Right you are, young man,¡± said Ripley¡¯s father. ¡°I¡¯m as stumped as you are. Tell me, do you know of anyone by the name of Cassandra Colton?¡±


    ¡°N-no, I don¡¯t know, sir. Who was she?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for asking. You just happen to remind me of her, since you share that same look on your face. Poor Cass. If only she could see you now¡­¡±


    Upon hearing that, Ripley assumed in his mind that he might be talking about his mother. Unfortunately, memories about a motherly figure elude him. As far as he could remember, he only knew one parent: his father. Just remembering him was enough to send him visions of what transpired from a few days back, when the Behemoths destroyed his only home and the Blue Army soldiers took away the only family he ever knew.


    But the man before him doesn¡¯t seem to recall those recent events. Like he hadn¡¯t experienced them at all, as if they were merely phantasms conjured from the young smith¡¯s playful mind.


    And yet, there was a tether, however thin it was, that didn¡¯t allow Ripley to denounce him as a stranger posing as his father. The glimmer in the man¡¯s eye when he scanned the boy¡¯s features with a piercing gaze was enough to show this, and Ripley stared back, scrutinizing him in return.


    ¡°What are you, really?¡± Ripley¡¯s query dispelled the silence.


    ¡°Allow me to explain Earl¡¯s, uhh, special circumstances,¡± the chief¡¯s daughter began explaining. ¡°At first, I couldn¡¯t believe it myself. What you see before you is an information body, an amalgamation of a living being¡¯s internal frequencies, thought processes, and data stored inside an activated mana cloud. In other words, a fragment-¡±


    ¡°A fragment of a soul,¡± Ripley finished the last bit. ¡°His soul!¡±


    ¡°No wonder he went through him like it was nothing!¡± Marlowe exclaimed. ¡°But that¡¯s taboo! You could be excommunicated for that!¡±


    Ripley knew all too well the implications of soul research. Tampering with it, as Marlowe had said, was extremely dangerous, as mind and soul are closely interlinked, and ripping off one¡¯s soul could lead to grave consequences. The Bulwark Kingdom¡¯s Church officially recognizes ¡®fiddling with one¡¯s soul¡¯ as a sin tantamount to questioning the Goddess¡¯ authority, which was punishable by excommunication or even death.


    ¡°Well, he did it anyway,¡± the chief shrugged. ¡°Said he wanted to challenge something. We were young and reckless back then, very curious too. That¡¯s why I never stopped him. I, too, wanted to find out.¡± He slumped down a seat after picking up a cold bottle, taking a sip before he continued. ¡°Actually, I volunteered to have my soul extracted. I was depressed. Couldn¡¯t handle the pressure of going to war, but he insisted. It was his idea, and he knew more about the subject than I did, and so I let him. And as you can see, he succeeded. Partly, of course.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± Lou nodded. ¡°If he¡¯d gone all the way, you¡¯d be left with nothing but a husk of flesh that would slowly waste away and die. How¡¯d he even do it anyway?¡±


    ¡°Hell if I know!¡± Joe quickly snapped. ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t know stuff about magic and stuff. That¡¯s stuff foreign to me.¡±


    ¡°And here you are, running the largest mana supplier on the planet,¡± Earl off-handedly remarked.


    ¡°Hey! You don¡¯t need an advanced education to know how to run business! You¡¯re the one who¡¯s supposed to rule here, you know! You helped build the place, for crying out loud!¡±


    ¡°Emphasis on ¡®helped build¡¯, and that¡¯s two things. One, that was in past tense. And two, builders don¡¯t make great managers. I was never a people person to begin with, Joe. You very well know that. Anyway, shouldn¡¯t you be down there reinforcing the fortifications?¡±


    ¡°Shit! You¡¯re right! I forgot!¡± Joe hastily headed for the door. ¡°See? I told you you were the better man!¡±


    For a moment, Ripley couldn¡¯t tell who the real leader was, as the man in uniform seemingly lorded over the supposed chief of the Refinery City, and just as his daughter was about to head out and follow her father, the man had sternly said, ¡°Hoen, it¡¯s best if you stay here and help me explain things to our¡­ less-educated guests, as you have such a clear grasp of it.¡±


    Earl then turned to the others, stood up and started talking.


    ¡°So yeah, seeing as Joe¡¯s a busy man, it¡¯s up to me, and Hoen, to explain what I really am. But before I tell you exactly how it impacts us, let us get one thing out of the way. Has my main body ever taught you magic, if any, at all?¡±


    ¡°O-Of course!¡± the young smith quickly replied.


    ¡°How about everyone else?¡± Earl asked. ¡°Lou¡¯s a Magic Knight, that¡¯s obvious enough, and Silt already knows a mix of Shorin and Bulwark rituals. Hoen, I personally tutored.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you study magic, too?!¡± Marlowe stood from his seat, pointing at the innocuous scribe.


    ¡°I might not look the part, but yeah,¡± Hoen flashed a proud smile, but sighed. ¡°To tell you the truth, I always wanted to become a magician. Ever since I studied about the history of Refinery City, I was instantly captivated by the legend of the Goddess. Sacrificing herself to save Her people, giving us the lifeblood of magic. I wish to honor Her and thank Her by performing the sacred arts She taught us. But I can¡¯t find any textbook regarding that, and Dad has no magical talent. Good thing Earl was there to teach me the basics and everything in between. You?¡±


    Marlowe shifted and turned in his seat, seemingly embarrassed. His face flared when Lou dropped a ball of truth.


    ¡°He can¡¯t cast. Must¡¯ve been a result of him cutting himself and siphoning off his soul.¡±


    ¡°Well, that makes things easier, then,¡± Earl nodded. ¡°Speaking of which, what¡¯s your understanding of souls?¡±


    With at least three people in the room who knew magic, not counting the fragment of Earl¡¯s soul, there was bound to be a different takes on the concept. Lou thought of it as nothing more than surplus mana coursing through our bodies, a by-product of a mana-rich environment, while Silt argued with Lou¡¯s point and raised that it was more than just mana, but a combination of unintelligible energies give rise to each individual¡¯s unique mana signature.


    Though both explanations were correct in some way, the man simply shook his head. In the end, Ripley¡¯s explanation won out.


    Basically, the soul is what gives living beings the sense of being alive, though the mind can also fit that description. However, mind and soul are two completely different things.


    Whereas the mind is the muscle that allows for a higher level of thinking and by extension the ability to cast magic, the soul is considered as the skeleton that supports the overall consciousness of a living being. It not only acts as a foundation, but also as a storage space for subconscious thoughts and memories, and this brings out personality and character of an individual.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Hoen didn¡¯t notice that she had dropped her trusty slate. ¡°That¡¯s actually better than I can come up with.¡±


    ¡°No less that I would expect of you,¡± the man mused. ¡°See, this is the problem with most people who study magic. Only focusing on the practical parts. Not that making things complicated helps, but at least Silt gets that souls are complicated things, thanks to her Shorin background. So, yes, I am a fragment of Earl Nightjar¡¯s soul, and as such, I possess every thought, feeling, and character of Earl Nightjar at the time of the extraction. Which is to say, I am merely a snapshot of him from 23 years ago.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re both my father, but at the same time, not my father?¡± Ripley felt weird asking such a paradox, but he needed to.


    ¡°For the lack of a better word, yes. While it¡¯s true that I do exhibit his qualities, the fact that I¡¯m just a piece of his psyche means that I can¡¯t create new experiences because of certain limitations regarding my nature. But all the while, I¡¯m not bound by physical ones either.¡±


    To drive his point further, the soul fragment literally drove his hand through an adjoining wall, which passed through without incident.


    ¡°So, if you can pass through walls, how do you explain yourself standing on the floor and talking to us like a normal human being?¡± Marlowe asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s because that¡¯s what our minds want us to think,¡± Hoen offered. ¡°Our physical brains simply can¡¯t stand the sheer amount of raw data a soul gives out. Thankfully, we have defense mechanisms that help us root our perception of reality.¡±


    ¡°That, and Earl had some sense in him to nail a complex projection spell on me,¡± the soul said. ¡°Which actually bring us to another point. Hoen, could you please explain?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes,¡± she sped through her trusty slate until she arrived at a certain point. ¡°Ahem, this is actually taken from one of my personal researches, so don¡¯t blame me if I said something wrong. So, souls are being of intangible material made mostly of mana and a bunch of other energies¡­¡±


    ¡°I thought we had already established that,¡± Silt made a wry comment.


    ¡°Oh, right. Sorry,¡± she frantically flew through a few more lines. ¡°Because souls are incorporeal beings, they cannot be perceived by the physical world, let alone manipulate it.¡±


    ¡°Again, already established,¡± the cat-eyed thief made yet another wry comment.


    ¡°And so, in order for beings of physical nature, that¡¯s us by the way, to perceive them, souls are bound to physical bodies, which enable them to exercise their will in the material plane.¡±


    When she finished, Earl gave a nod.


    Now, Ripley was hooked. From what he gleaned from the discussion, it seemed that his father dabbled in soul research and gained fruit from it, which was now being continued by Hoen, his apprentice. But then, Silt also said she was taught by Earl. Considering her Shorin background, she too might have contributed to his current research using another viewpoint.


    But what really gave him the jolt was how his father created swords. He not only imbues them with enhancement spells, but also imbues the customer¡¯s mana signature, ensuring that no other person besides them could use it.


    Imbuing mana signatures? Could it also possibly mean binding souls?


    And if that¡¯s really the case, then it might be possible that Ripley¡¯s father knew about the incoming threat. And he made precautions, ones that he might have not considered, but took effect nonetheless.


    Maybe the clockwork hammer, despite being a weapon of the old gods, wasn¡¯t Earl¡¯s biggest secret after all.


    And he might have been with them all along.