Interconnected: Spliced Souls

“STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!” Llamare leapt high into the air and twirled his naginata around his body. “[ASPECT OF WIND]!!!” Suddenly, his body became partly composed of wind, causing a tornado-like gust to envelop Llamare's body. It greatly enhanced his strength while eliminating his weaknesses.  

It burned away at his very life to maintain this state, but with it came tremendous power. His weapon became a part of his body, growing more destructive. In its initial, unfocused state, it ripped off the mansion’s ceiling and flung it into the city. Clouds gathered overhead and blocked the moon, and Llamare lifted his arm one final time and threw his weapon, intending to kill the one person that destroyed his community.    

“GOOOO!!! LLAMARE!!!!!!” Liealia cheered, not needing to look. She was focused on Servi and tried her best to wake her. The situation transpiring behind her? She read the wind’s movements and learned all she needed.   

Viridian Keywater was faced with his foreboding, imminent death. He stared at the fearsome attack that, within a few short breaths, would mark the end of his life.    

He would be no more. He was a vital part of a plan set into motion before he was even a twinkle in his father’s eyes.   

Dying here would be a failure. But while Viridian had the means to survive this ordeal, it wouldn't come without its fair share of problems.   

And he'd likely face the executioner’s axe regardless of what he did. With that in mind, he reached into his pocket and retrieved an orb. “Forgive me, father!” The eldest prince of Keywater crushed the sphere, causing a barrier to form around him and the unconscious warrior. Llamare’s strongest attack bounced off, sending the destructive energy gathered shooting into the sky, forcing the clouds to part.   

But then the energy rebounded and smashed into the barrier, yet it used that to fuel a highly advanced and sophisticated magic circle. A breath later, it activated, transporting everyone inside the protective barrier to an entirely different location– one that would take many months of constant traveling to reach.   

Llamare cursed at his failure. He picked up his weapon and smashed the ground, chipping the blade while sprouting pure vitriol. He didn't find an ounce of calmness until his cousin shouted his name. She ran over with Servi in her arms and explained she wasn't waking up. That was a concern, but there were other matters at hand.   

“We can do nothing except leave,” Llamare said, finding it hard to face his failure. It was shameful. He only endured it because this wasn't the time to beat himself over it. The silver lining was that they had ended the life of someone important to their enemies. That strange, deformed man... The one wielding the power to raise the dead... He was vital to their operation. 

No, he wasn't critical. 

It was his soul, wasn't it?  

Llamare wasn't sure if he could trust his ears. The one woman who knew the truth was resting in his cousin’s arms.   

“Then let us head to the rendezvous point. We must meet up with the others.”  

“Right. Here, take my weapon.”  

Liealia nodded and handed off Servi, grabbing the important heirloom in return. They had planned on using [Aspect of Wind], but they honestly didn't have the strength to maintain it--not after the unspeakable horrors they encountered.   

The Earth Elves' sharp ears picked up nothing too concerning in the few moments they prepared to leave. The most optional path was to use [Wind Grind] and skate on the breeze. The cousins could see the flow of air currents when they focused and narrowed their eyes.   

They ran to one of the holes in the walls and jumped, altering their stance to grind on the windy paths heading towards the Lucoa Mines. They observed the streets below to find about four hundred soldiers swarming the mansion. Various and complicated orders were shouted, and no one could hardly focus or do what was asked of them because this situation was so abstract and strange. The people of the casual district were up and about, taking to the streets in curiosity and fear. It was the same with the pompous nobles. Although the vast majority had personal guards.   

The Crimson Grotto was the same. The guards there amassed in front of the door with weapons, bows, wands, staves, and magic at the ready. It was a case of attack first because questions could be asked later. The brothel's clients were probably preparing to evacuate through the underground tunnels if they hadn't done so already. 

But if things went to plan, that wasn't going to happen. This long, violent, bloody night was nearly at an end. There were just a few more things left to do.   

Silently, the two elves continued to grind on the windy rails, unable to speak since they needed more time than most to process what had happened.   

---

In the underground slave market's showroom, there stood a man covered in blood. His armor's defining symbol was the emblem of a jin fish engraved onto the front and back of his breastplate. 

When he became a noble through his hard work, the fishing village he grew up in went to the forefront of his mind, nearly forcing him to choose the emblem of a jin fish from the guild's vault. He naturally had to choose a last name, and what better choice was there than Jin? It served as a link to his home, which no longer existed... Once a particular man met his demise...no one except Fisher would have any memories of it. 

Crimson sickeningly dripped from his sword's edge. The unrefined nadrium-encrusted runes glowed a faint azure from the skill energy he kept channeling through it.   

Surrounding him were the corpses of men and women who admired his leadership and exceptional skill in combat, yet what did he feel when he gazed at those he cut down? 

Fisher blinked and looked at his weapon. It was currently a tool fit for destruction and death, much like he used to be in the past. Fisher was out of control and only able to be reigned in by one man, and together with him and a few others who shared their heartbreaking plight, they reigned down a period of true terror.   

It wouldn't be a lie to state that the majority of wildkin disappearances and murderers could have been attributed to him and his misguided, ever-changing group, who only wished to execute violent revenge for the destruction of their villages.   

Yet now he knew just how foolish he was.   

How corrupted he had allowed himself to be.   

How he had willingly submitted to answer his primal desires to spread the blood of so many he had once thought up as guilty.    

He sighed again.   

Truthfully, the men and women of Canary's guard who came with him were knowledgeable about the underground slave market. They were willing accomplices in Duke Biggins’s disgusting scheme, which was how they even knew of the secret entrance within the noble district’s guard headquarters.   

Fisher wanted redemption. He yearned to lessen the heavy weight suffocating his heart each and every night.   

And well?  

Killing was what he knew best, but he had to do something else.   

Canary didn't have a singular captain to lead its forces. It just had two lieutenants that each led half of its military. And since he was in an important position, he was being trusted with vital information, which Fisher then leaked using the appropriate channels once he was briefed on a potential attack against the fastest-growing city in Lando.   

It was a long gamble. Spreading the word through dead drops and cryptic messages weren't easy tasks by any stretch of the imagination.   

But it was done.   

“Hey, man. That's some damn fine work,” Scratch said, walking behind Fisher and slapping the back of his armor. “Ugh, I almost forgot the blood.” He shook his hand and groaned.   

“We are not yet done here.” Fisher turned around to see the last group of rescued slaves being ushered into the tunnel. Naked and afraid, they bore whip marks and infected wounds upon their bodies. Fisher couldn't understand the Elvish language well, but those elves were probably asking about a pair of cousins. 

“Yeah, I guess we aren't. Our boss said to let you have the bodies of any of our allies that fell.” It was a miracle this mission even succeeded, let alone get through it with six dead on their side.   

“There's more.” Fisher held out his sword with one arm and offered his other. The albino kobold recalled what Llamare had told him.   

“Then the task shall fall to me,” said the great man with a crocodile’s head. He stomped over to Fisher and Scratch. “It is a fine blade. It has seen many battles, and it has claimed many lives. Yet it shall now spread the blood of the one it was given to. Hold your resolve. Do not flinch.” He grabbed the sword, examined it with those reddened, white eyes, and lopped off Fisher’s right arm. It was a clean cut at the elbow.   

Yet he did not show an ounce of emotion. Wounds and injuries were nothing to the man.   

It would be very suspicious for Fisher to return uninjured as the only survivor, so this needed to happen. He needed to suffer some injuries and wounds, and in addition to the missing arm, he received four swift stabs to the stomach, one to his neck, and two to his cheeks.   

A mage then sent two orbs of solid rock to smash the back of his helmet-covered head, and then she called down a boulder to crush his armor. His protective gear was fine, but the impact broke a few ribs.   

Scratched offered a hand, but Fisher wouldn't allow himself to take any assistance. He was a bloody mess. Fisher should not have been standing. Yet he was. He limped to get his sword from the kobold and struggled to sheath it.   

“And we're all done,” said Scratch. He looked behind to confirm the last of the former slaves were running like crazy down the tunnel. The kobold ran to catch up with the group, and only Scratch remained. He offered a hand, but after realizing Fisher couldn't take it, he nervously chuckled. “Hope you make a full recovery, man. You're a real friend for putting your life on the line like this. Okay, wait until the fifth explosion. We'll be far enough away by then, alright? Alright. Take it easy!” The singi with a scar raised a hand and smiled, then ran to the tunnel.   

Ten seconds after he was gone from view, the ground shook. That meant a support beam was destroyed.   

And then there was another, and another, and another.   

And once the ground shook for the fifth time, Fisher limped– his adrenaline running thin by this point– to the door blocked from the other side.   

He wasn't out of the woods yet.   

Now?  

It was time for the hard part.   

---

“Boss!!!! Hey, it was a success, right? I mean, you three are here, so it has to be–”  

“No. Parrel– Viridian Keywater still lives…”  

Llamare cut through Scratch’s nervous excitement like a hot knife through butter, immediately causing the overall pleasant mood to die. After reaching the mines, Llamare and his cousin sleuthed in through the hidden entrance and worked their way to the central cavern. They were relieved to see all the freed slaves.   

Immediately, they knew there were a couple of losses. But everyone was prepared to die. It wouldn't honor their sacrifice to lose themselves to emotion and weep and moan. That could come later once they returned home, safe and sound. 

“But make no mistake,” Liealia said, stepping forward. “There was a necromancer in his employment, but he no longer draws breath. We dealt a heavy blow and forced him to teleport away.”  

“But what the fuck?! We trusted–”  

Llamare sat Servi down on the cleanest bedroll he could find. “And we did not betray your trust. The former head butler and advisor to Virin Keywater, the emperor, when he was in his youth? He is no more. It is difficult to explain, but we were the clear winners.” He narrowed his eyes at Scratch, nonverbally telling him to simmer down.   

“This isn't what we agreed on!”  

“But it is what happened. We cannot do anything about it. Consider the alternatives. We have shown that there is nowhere they can go that will not be attacked. We learned the duke's true identity as Viridian Keywater, son of Keywater's emperor. That cannot shelter him from failure. There's something complex at work, and we set them back years. This information will be their downfall. You've trusted us thus far, so continue to do so.”  

Scratch’s temper blew a fuse. He stomped off somewhere else and shouted expletives at any inanimate object he could find. The other freedom fighters were disappointed, but if their leader said this was a decent alternative, they wanted to believe them. Questions were asked about Servi, but Liealia said she had expended too much Skill Energy in battle.   

The two cousins went to check on the newly freed prisoners and experienced over three dozen fateful and heartfelt reunions—all were accompanied by a sea’s worth of salty tears.