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262 - Once Again, Cogs in Motion [Sturmblitz]
🕑 Added 2023-07-06 22:49:50 +0000 UTCMakhus’s manic explanation was interrupted by One-arm’s choice: “I suppose I shall take the middle one. It feels as though it will conduct my flame the best of these three.”
He turned on a heel and immediately began helping get the arm attached to the old man. Halxian saw his opportunity and finally called out the redhead: “Hey, Khestun. Are you too busy for a spar?”
“Er… Right now?”
“Sure. I can wait, if I must.”
“Just to be clear, you’re not trying to “put me in my place” or some stupid dominance hierarchy play like of that sort, right?”
“There’s obviously something about you that only the Pillars - the elder’s inner circle - are aware of. She wouldn’t have picked you if there wasn’t. I want to find out what it is, and knowing Her, fighting you is the easiest way to do it.”
“I can just tell you.”
“I’d rather fight. You can tell me after.”
Halxian saw an unsettlingly familiar grin twist Victor’s abnormally pretty face into a battle-thirsty grimace.
“Then we have a deal. When, where and what rules?”
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Despite the time that had passed and the monsters she had slain since, Zelsys still didn’t feel anywhere close to fully grasping the potential of Carnifex Fulguris. This was not a subject of frustration, but rather excitement; she could just keep pushing forward and discovering new ways in which the blade subverted and openly defied the idea of limitation. As such, it was her own body that required honing. Just as Forgehand had said, there was a caveat to Carnifex Fulguris becoming “fangs that can bite through fate”; that caveat being a wielder capable of drawing out its full potential. This was partly a matter of simply growing stronger in straightforward ways, but also a matter of something deeper. She felt it, in her gut, a gnawing desire that couldn’t be sated with any amount of training. It only ever abated when she carried out acts of violence, even if they were not necessarily of the archetypal sort, including anything done with great intensity and drive - from training, to drinking, and even sex. It was this gnawing that had driven her to go out on a near-daily basis to fulfill Slayer’s Guild contracts meant for whole parties. There was substantial profit to be found from huge beasts and groups of ne’er-do-wells, mostly the former rather than the latter, but it was the visceral violence and struggle that drew Zelsys. That was who she was. Thrice now, she had visited neighboring branches of other sects; twice the Black Horses, and once the Sagners, who were holding frequent invitational tournaments in an effort to recruit new members. During these tournaments, higher-ranked members fought members of the other sect in friendly exhibition matches.
Only once did she officially get to participate in such a match, with the Sanger Sect’s Arkaley Branch. They had the good judgment to offer to just have a large number of their members come at her in rapid succession, and in the end, both sides were left having improved their relations and learned something from watching the other. Zel was left impressed by how much the Arkaley people had grown since she had clandestinely sent them copies of texts from her predecessor’s private library. Only a small handful had seen abrupt, meteoric jumps in power, but she noticed numerous small additions and improvements here and there, enough that they made a significant difference.
Out of the three visits, this one also had an overtly political purpose. Gideon had personally invited her to visit - albeit not specifically for this tournament - to speak on the matters of sect allegiance.
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Gideon had, in truth, wholly expected Zelsys to beat his disciples within an inch of their lives, and had hoped that the friendly context, the match format, and the sheer number of them would at least spread out the injuries.
He was, then, pleasantly surprised when she merely beat them well out of fighting condition, but clearly took care not to inflict serious injury. Several of them were being given blood transfusions from the number of shallow, individually superficial cuts they had sustained. The blades which had inflicted these cuts radiated an aura that felt like they could, at any moment, shred flesh and bone and tendons apart with a grazing hit. He and many of his acquaintances had both heard and dreamt of the blade’s forging; there were none within his circles who were not aware of Carnifex Fulguris. Even now he wasn’t sure how exactly she was making it perform such delicate maneuvers when she plainly lacked any Armament Aura at all.
Several more of his disciples had broken bones from being punched or otherwise struck a bit too hard; somehow, that woman had acquired a living metal arm since he had last seen her. Gideon was well aware of such a possibility, but not that it could be done in such a short time. He was also well aware of the fact these bone breaks were not purposeful, and it was merely the lot of body cultivators to occasionally miscalculate the appropriate level of strength in relation to their opponents’ durability.
Gideon was certain that this exhibition alone would lead to more than a handful of epiphanies among the Arkaley Branch. He himself already had a dozen ideas. There was a profound sense of intentional forcefulness to everything about that woman; from her clothing, her demeanor, the way she spoke. Even while she was utterly calm, while she spoke and drank with him in good spirits, she gave off the implication of possible violence. He quickly realized it was similar to the way a sword cultivator constantly gave off a feeling of sharpness.
His confusion regarding the matter of Newman’s arm was at least partially assuaged when she caught him staring and admitted that it was still a work in progress, then proceeded to throw three bronze pills into her mouth… And broke them with her teeth like they were walnuts.
