Arion spun and lifted Recall just in time—metal rang as the staff caught an arm mid-strike, the impact jarring through his wrists. The dagger still slipped through, its edge biting into the side of his neck, shallow but close enough to sting.
Another blade followed immediately, already in motion, flicked from the attacker's right hand toward his abdomen.
He rotated Recall without thinking—the upper end carrying the trapped arm downward while the lower twisted up in a tight counter, intercepting the concealed dagger before it could bury itself. Wood flexed, metal chimed.
He'd had plenty of training for knife fighters. His master had never gone easy on him—never spared him dulled edges or mercy drills.
The trick was always the same.
Get them inside your control radius.
He had a single second of control.
That was enough.
He spun Recall, smashing the bandit's arms before they retreated.
Arion's spin stopped.
Recall held horizontal.
His fingers loosened.
Then it dropped, only to meet the bottom of his left foot.
DONK!
Recall slammed into the bandit's forearm guard. It bent and rattled from the force.
"Recall."
It came back only to be ricocheted by a high-kick straight back with even more force.
It spun vertically this time.
DUFF.
The metal fitting cracked across the bandit's face.
"MHHF!"
"–Gah! Fuck! You broke my fuckin' nose!"
The staff fell back into his grasp. A retreat step—into an instant one handed thrust.
The opponent was stunned, but he still managed to execute a reaction—daggers bit into Recall as she barreled on through, penetrating his guard.
But he had stopped her momentum in time.
Arion had no plans of letting him off.
He let go of his grip for a heartbeat, then his foot came through.
A straight front kick met Recall's metal fitting.
Recall blasted through the bandit's defence, the end of Recall caught snug painfully between chest and shoulder. Pain surged into a muffled curse as the joint had barely escaped dislocation.
The bandit hit the floor, executing a tactical roll. Daggers dug into earth, low to the floor like some kind of beast mid-hunt.
That's when Arion saw them, two ears sprung atop of the head of his ambusher.
…Wolf?
The cosplay-like cosmetic appearance took him off guard, the bandit took initiative—unleashing a gust of air and dust between them.
He groaned as it stung his eyes and obscured vision.
His arms came up to shield his face.
Why'd my imagination have to kick in now of all times?!
Noise surrounded him, the ambusher clearly did not care for being discreet this time.
His Resonant scans came back fractured—too much texture, too much interference. The echo data smeared, unreliable while an attack could come at any moment.
So he shut the magic down.
And went old-school.
He changed stance.
A side stance.
Leaves and fauna shifted, bursting at high speed.
High speed and under-handed ambushes…
A disorienting fear tactic.
He was figuring out his opponent.
Until a sharp whistle cut through the air.
TONG!
Arion's wrists snapped to his right, Recall bent, her wood whipping and deflecting the opponent's weapon.
But this one wasn't held.
His eyes narrowed, the sound continued. Then stopped beside him.
Then, another sharp whistle, this time in front of him.
Shit!
He barely dodged, sidestepping in the nick of time.
The dagger sliced through strands of his hair, landing behind him.
Then silence for a heartbeat.
"You seemed to have dropped your weapon, mate!"
No movement.
He tried again, a pulse rolled out through his surroundings. Fuzzy texture returned.
His eyes narrowed.
The shape of a dagger stood bitten within the earth behind him.
Silence.
Then another pulse. Echo noise scattered into his mind.
No dagger.
Instead, a black shape crawled low to the ground.
Motion exploded.
Arion slammed his foot and snapped Recall in the opponent's path.
Ice bloomed instantly—freezing his own leg and everything behind him in a brutal sheet.
Tink.
He turned his upper body to see Recall's metal fitting tapping ice standing behind him.
"GRAHHH!"
"Well well…"
"FUCK!"
"TCH!"
The icicle tutted. "Dinner, this is cold!"
The wolf-eared bandit stood frozen to the neck mid-lunge.
"I'm not your dinner, asshole," Arion said, cracking the ice trapping his leg.
"Of course you are! Human. Is. Dinner!" the bandit snarled, struggling.
This close up, he had a good look at him.
A scar carved over the right cheek. One eye cloudy white. One ear half-missing, torn by a bite.
"Mate," Arion muttered, "how many times have you been hit in the head?"
"Stupid question! I can't count that manys', Dinner—"
DUFF!
The bandit's ears twitched once.
Then his head slumped.
"Well," Arion said, straightening. "That's one. You can start there."
He shouldn't be able to recall this whole encounter with that head injury.
"I swear there's a pun in there somewhere…"
After dealing with the assailant, Arion looked for the man's daggers. Once he grabbed one he wanted to see its Codex.
"How did he appear behind me without motion? A switch ability? Teleportation?"
He sent Vitalis surging into the daggers shard, but to his disappointment, nothing happened.
Instead the dagger pulsed once and then retracted back to its shard form, as if it was not interested in someone that wasn't their partner.
Figures, I guess that confirms Vitalis Imprints are needed to access a weapon's Codex…
He dropped it with a sigh and glanced toward the bandit camp shrouded in darkness.
"Well. Not my problem," he muttered. "As long as they don't disturb my peace."
Shrugging he proceeded to turn and leave.
Until he heard more voices, screams.
Smaller, higher pitched.
They tore through him, his composure cut like a blade through string.
"Elise! Help! Elise!"
Metal creaked.
A cage swung open.
"Kya! No!"
BUFF.
"Shut up! You whiny sack of gold!"
CLAM!
"Buhahaha!"
Children…? He thought, a sour emotion boiled in his heart.
More small voices could be heard through metal bars, slowly drained out by the loud yells from the camp.
The cages weren't for animals.
They were for children.
"Turn around and walk away," he told himself.
He stood there, clutching Recall, his fingers slowly going numb.
His teeth clenched, rage held back.
Then another voice shattered everything.
"Where is she! What did you do to her, you bastard!"
Screams tore from an older woman this time.
It struck him, time slowed, screams were the only thing he heard.
Blocks of memory flashed in front of his eyes.
His heart beat was now the only thing that he could hear.
Badump
…
–dump. Badump.
Badump.
BEEEP!
A horn blared as a car swerved past traffic, narrowly missing a truck after overtaking the vehicle in front of it.
The rain fell hard that evening, it hammered the car's windshield under a dead grey sky.
The driver sped down the road, heading straight towards a large building.
Headlights carved tunnels through the downpour, the world beyond reduced to motion and threat.
Still overtaking, trying not to crash.
The road curved. He did not slow.
"Damnit! This woman is going to be the end of me," the man said.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep…
The phone vibrated uselessly against the console.
The person you have called is not available at the moment–
"Shit!"
Beep.
"Mum, when you get this, call me back. I'm on my way now."
What the hell happened—the police calling about Mum? It's always the other way round…
Irritation boiled, his hands gripped the wheel like a vice.
This is Radio Five~
I hope you lovely people are having a gorgeous day–
A fist slammed into the radio, silencing it.
"Fuck you and you gorgeous day."
Static crackled once, then died.
Another horn blared, echoing through the road as he continued driving.
…
SCREEHH!
Tires screamed against asphalt as the car fishtailed into the parking space.
TUCK.
CRUNK!
He jumped out before the car stopped moving, slammed the door—didn't even check if he'd locked it, and sprinted for the entrance.
Rain soaked him instantly, jacket heavy, shoes slipping on painted lines.
A hospital loomed in the background, like a dark omen. Ambulances stood parked, workers rushing back and forth.
Step.
Step.
He arrived at one of a patient's rooms and whipped the door open.
"Mum!"
Four Enforcers stood there, dotted around the room. Armed, wearing heavy protective gear. Their radios would sometimes crackle to life.
And beyond them lay his mother, unconscious.
"What the hell!? The fuck happened?!"
He barged in, walking through the enforcers. His patience wore thin.
One Enforcer got in his way, trying to calm him down.
"Son, lower your voice, this is the patient ward. Now let's go–"
"-the fuck off me! I want to see her!"
The man started to get physical, he was known for a troublesome track record with authority.
Another Enforcer came over to back up his buddy.
"Stop! Calm down, now! Otherwise you'll be forced to–"
"That's enough."
All three looked back towards the voice coming from behind, the Enforcer that stood closest to the man's Mother.
"Sergeant?"
A tall burly woman, Sergeant and Commander of the unit, walked over to them.
"You guys wait here." She then glanced over to the aggravated man. "And you, come with me." The Sergeant brushed past him, exiting the room.
The man glanced at his mother, an emotion of annoyance covered his face.
Then, spun around and followed the woman out the room.
The tall, imposing woman with silky black hair was waiting for him in the hallway. Propped up against the wall, arms crossed.
"Arion."
"What's this all about, Treya?"
There was a pause.
"Your Mother is fine… don't worry about her."
Arion slumped back onto the bench beside him.
A long exhale escaped him, "God Treya, you guys gave me a heart attack! Why did I get a call saying it was an emergency? Did she faint?"
"Yeah. I went to talk to her, she went weak and then fainted. Now here we are"
But before he could reply, she continued.
"But that's not why we called you, Arion…"
His eyes narrowed as he lifted his head up to meet hers.
The hallway suddenly felt claustrophobic.
She sighed, unfolded her arms and walked over to sit next to him, "This isn't going to be easy for you and your Mother, but we're doing everything we can to track her down."
Arion looked at her confused, "What? Treya, what are you talking about…"
She glanced at him, "At 3:23pm today, we received a call from someone that worked at your sister's school…" She took a deep breath, "They saw someone walk alongside Oline, as she walked home. The caller did not recognise him, so she ended up calling us."
Arion's hands gripped his trousers, thread ripping from the tension.
"That's when we came to see your Mother, we checked to see if Oline had returned home… but she hadn't."
Arion stared at her in disbelief, slightly shaking his head, a nervous chuckle settling in.
"What–no… No, she might have just gone to a friend's house."
"Arion–"
He stood up, took out his phone to find Oline's number. Hesitating, he eventually dialed it. Pacing back and forth.
"Arion, it's no use, we got her number from your Mother's phone—"
Beep.
Beep.
Beep…
The person you have called is not available at the moment.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——