by Samuel Small
The energy died just when Leal slashed across the boy’s throat. The cloaked boy ducked under expertly, then pivoted out of the way of Leal’s follow-up thrust. The way he ducked, the way he gracefully pivoted out, it would have left Leal awestruck if those movements had come from a Purist, who were well known for standing flat footed as they fought. But Leal was sure this wasn’t a Purist, so he was able to keep his wit about him and let out another attack: this time a kick aimed at his opponent’s head.
Everything appeared in slow motion as the cloaked boy moved his arm up to block the strike, but then seemed to think better of it and leaned his upper torso back. As Leal’s leg sailed past his opponent he smirked, despite his vulnerable position. That action confirmed his suspicions so-
Shoo!
Pain pierced Leal’s shoulder, jerking his body to the right. He’d planned to follow up that attack, but what the hell just hit him? He avoided glancing at his injury, just in case it was severe, and instead focused on his opponent to see if he’d find any clues as to what hit him. Some smoke drifted from their wrist.
“So it can fire short bursts too? Impressive!” Leal shouted as he lunged forward. The boy slipped to the inside of the sword then punched, where an orb of glowing blue light shot out and dug into Major Mile’s rib. It hurt, but now that he was prepared for it the attack did much less damage. Leal shifted his sword, this time being sure to come in with as many attacks as possible.
Now that Leal had gotten close, the boy didn’t have enough time to gather Sol and unleash a massive attack. And with Leal pressing in on him as much as possible, all he was really able to manage were a few short bursts, which weren’t going to take Leal out anytime soon. Still, Leal thought as he came at the cloaked figure with a flurry of thrusts, this guy’s good.
Had you taken even a trained warrior and forced them to be on pure defense they would eventually take a fatal blow. It would be nothing against them, but combat involved a mix of offense and defense. Attacks must be used to maintain distance and keep one’s opponent hesitant. Otherwise they’d come in with an unrelenting assault of attacks and simply overwhelm you, like what Leal should be doing now.
Only that wasn’t what was happening. Leal had nipped his coat a few times, sure, but he hadn’t landed a single decisive blow. If opponents of even caliber fought, one on full offense and the other completely focused on defense, the defensive fighter would lose. The only way for them to stay intact would be…
If they were simply stronger than the other.
Leal shifted his head out of the way just as another glowing orb flew past his head. Then, he kicked at his opponent’s head one again. As expected, he moved it out of the way, but his arm was vulnerable. Leal slashed into it and smacked something metal. The device. With the boy’s arm being sent downward from the force of the blow, Leal took advantage and grasped the boy’s forearm while kneeing his wrist. Pain briefly shot through it as he smashed into the metal object, but then there was a crunch. That attack definitely busted the device, so Leal could finish this. He made one last swipe at his opponent’s cloak, but then-
His sword seemed to shift out of the way. Like a ghost had grabbed it and tugged in the opposite direction. Leal leaned in to keep the thing in his grips, then stumbled to stay on his feet. His chest hit his opponent’s face and he knew he was too close to dodge whatever would be next.
“Oooof!” Leal spat. His opponent punched into his gut, then pushed him away, sending Leal stumbling back a few feet before he caught himself. He swiped his rapier to the side, taking the time to inspect it with the brief gesture. No damage, not like that would explain what happened, Leal thought as he directed his attention back to his adversary. The dagger from earlier was clenched tightly in one hand, his stance now reminiscent of a non-Sol combat one.
“So the charade’s over,” Leal mumbled.
In leu of a response, the cloaked boy bent his knees in preparation. Aware that the boy’s game plan had now changed and that he would be the one attempting to close the distance, Leal held his sword at the ready. When the boy leapt forward with a stab Leal thrust his sword forward, but the boy turned his shoulder and dodged it with ease. Leal backed up and continued with his defensive stabs, but each attack seemed to miss by only a hair. He wasn’t sure if it was his desperate mind playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn at times his sword dodged the boy, rather than the other way around. With this guy’s insane offense, Leal was forced to retreat backward and before he knew it he hit a wall. He faced his opponent and gritted his teeth, just in time to witness the blade come straight at him.
But the boy didn’t kill him. He only pressed the dagger against Leal’s throat. The boy was certainly shorter than him, his head only coming up to the top of Leal’s shoulders, but despite that the blade threatening to end Leal’s life showed him as superior. What Leal didn’t get was why this boy hadn’t just bothered to kill him outright. He certainly didn’t wait to with the other guards.
“What’s this about?” Leal said. Each word made his adam’s apple rise and fall, causing it to rub uncomfortably against the sharp blade. The hood titled up, an inquisitive enough gesture for Leal, who continued. “You have the chance to kill me. Why aren’t you taking it?”
“It’s just-” they began and Leal’s narrowed eyes shot open. ‘The boy’ was just the way he referred to his opponent in his head based on their stature. But that voice, which was too high pitched to be a man, but too low to be a woman, proved that this person was indeed a boy. A mere child-
“Did you serve in the war?”
His eyes darting around the dark room, Leal didn’t know what to say. What could he say? It wasn’t like he was expecting a question like that and so out of the blue on top of everything. Then he remembered the sensation pressing against his throat. It wasn’t like he was in a position to lie.
“Yes.”
“And do you support the current Republic government?”
Leal opened his mouth to respond, but found no words. What was wrong with him? Had he been asked that at the start of all of this, it would have been an uninterrupted yes. The answer was still yes, he thought, but what had changed to make him hesitate? The Republic’s secrets which he was becoming more aware of by the second? Or was it the conversation with Hikawa?
That pressure on his throat removed itself and he stared wide-eyed as the boy took a few steps back, still holding the dagger in his hand but now at his side. His head was downcast, as if he was trying not to make eye contact despite the hood that shrouded his face.
“I know you’ve figured out that I’m not a real Purist, but you probably don’t know why I posed as one. There’s a lot of dissatisfaction against the current Republic government and that isn’t just among the rebels. Ordinary citizens are dissatisfied too, but they’re too grateful to speak out. They figure anything is better than King Arnold, so they settle for Führer Bellator.”
“Settle for Führer Bellator? He’s a great leader-”
“He’s a dictator. Maybe he does nice things for now but how long do you think that will last? A man can only hold onto that much power for so long before it corrupts him. Or Her. Of course, it already has. It has for a while now.”
“How so?”
“I can’t tell you that, you’re an enemy. And don’t pretend to be an ally of mine just because I might believe it. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“So you’re dissatisfaction is with the current Republic government? And it has nothing to do with the Purists?”
“Yes. The Purists are merely a vessel for the end.”
“The end being the destruction of the current government?”
The hood moved up in down in a slow nod. Leal thought he was getting it now, wrapping his head around everything. Not the boy’s motivations, those were shrouded in mystery, but he thought he at least understood his plan.
“So you attack the Republic under the guise of a Purist. You get citizens thinking about the genocide and how the
current government hasn’t really done anything about it. On top of that, murders in the Republic committed by a Purist would mandate an investigation into their village, which would only upset them. Your thought was-”
“That between the Republic citizens, the rebels, and the Purists, someone would attack.”
“All the pieces would push against each other and eventually it would be all three against the Republic…”
“Correct. I like you, Major Miles. Your deduction skills are perfect and you’re accepting of new ideas. If you would, I would like to have you as an ally.”
An ally. With those words everything swirled in Leal’s head. The murdered guards. Hikawa. The field of corpses just outside of the Purist village. Jason. Charlie.
Leal shook his head.
Despite the fact that he thought the gesture would lead to his immediate death, the cloaked boy only stood opposite of him, unmoving. It seemed he wanted a reason and Leal was happy to give it.
“The current government isn’t perfect, but it’s a far cry from the horrors of King Arnold. We live in a period of unprecedented peace for the Republic and I’m not about to abandon it for the sake of some kid who arbitrarily decides that Führer Bellator is a ‘dictator’.” Leal removed himself from the wall and took a few steps forward, then positioned his feet into a battle stance. He raised his rapier, keeping the boy’s shadowy figure in his sights.
“I will protect the Republic. The current Republic!” Leal cried, then lunged forward.
His will renewed and the doubt in his mind erased, Leal found himself coursing with power. He attacked the boy in a blind fury of blows. His arm seemed to move on its own, doing all the techniques that had been ingrained into him over years of service automatically. He went for the head, then the thigh, then stabbed at the belly. All kinds of mix-ups and feints that practically ensured a clean hit. But despite that…
The boy knocked each slash away with his dagger, kicking up sparks that lit the area briefly. It was true that it was noticeably more difficult than earlier, but he seemed to be an even match for Leal. He parried Leal’s stab, then cut across his throat. Leal managed to back his upper body in time and the attack sliced through the air inches from his neck. As soon as it was past, Leal came in with a jab from his left hand, which cracked into his opponent nose. He was too focused on the sword, so he hadn’t anticipated an attack with the free hand, which meant it’d do that much more damage. As the boy stumbled, grasping his no doubt broken nose, Leal whirled his sword at him. “This is the end!” he shouted.
Only Leal’s blade stopped. Not like it had hit a brick wall; there was no recoil or reverberation. It just stopped abruptly. He stared at the still blade, then gave it a good tug, but it remained in place. The cloaked boy stood opposite of him with one hand covering his injury, the other pointed directly at Leal’s rapier. Then he swept his free hand and Leal’s sword obeyed the movement, flying out of his grip and skidding across the factory floor.
That ability. It had to be some kind of unique Sol.
“Magnetism,” Leal said dryly.
“That’s right,” the boy said, extending both of his arms forward. “Though I never thought I’d have to use it here.”
Danger tinged in the back of Leal’s mind and he quickly rolled out of the way. It was a good thing he did, devices and stray pieces of metal that littered the factory flew by, then stopped in front of the boy. They orbited around him so fast that they blurred and looked like rings. The sound of their movement filled the factory, a steady hum that reverberated and appeared to come from all directions.
The boy launched his arms forward and all of the pieces of metal rushed to Leal once again. He tried to use his combat training, pivoting and weaving around the attacks, but there were simply too many of them for that to be effective. One smacked into his thigh with a sudden pinch of numbness and another grazed his shoulder, tearing his uniform. When the volley ended, Leal charged for the cloaked boy with his fists raised, but jumped and skidded to a stop when he took in his posture.
The dark arm of his adversary was raised high into the air, seeming to call upon something. Leal followed the line upward and focused on the swirling mass above him. There were dozens of objects in the air, all rotating slowly like in a calm before a deadly storm, pieces of them flashing with familiar blue light. This factory made those devices and this boy had gone here to retrieve one. And of course they were all functional-
The objects flew toward Leal, but not aimed at him. One appeared to this side, gathering blue light. It hummed with an intense whine that made Leal’s ears feel like they might bleed and he jumped backward. The energy tore out of it in front of him, but the device continued forward independently, bringing with it a line of twisting light. Leal ran into it, then dropped to his knees, sliding just under the violent torrent then sprung to his feet. He was ready to turn to dodge the thing’s follow up, but his wide eyes focused on the area in front of him.
There had to be at least of a dozen of those devices, all with a large blue ball of light gathering before them, hovering behind the cloaked boy like his own personal army. He raised one hand slowly and pointed it at Leal. The devices obeyed as if they had a mind of their own and slowly floated toward him.
The first device fired its deadly laser at Leal and he jumped out of the way. It must be frying a hole through the wall behind him based on the uncomfortable grinding sound, but Leal had no time to think of that now. He quickly ducked as more energy blew the air in all directions over his head, screeching just above him like a dying bird. Leal rolled, just in time for another beam to fill the space he’d occupied.
It was a hectic fit, each time a device formed a straight line aimed at Leal he had less than a second to avoid it. Wherever he landed, there was sure to be another waiting for him. But he had to quickly look around: one of the directions he could dodge in was sure to have a trap set up. The beams of energy also carved out in a straight line, limiting his movement even further. Before he knew it Leal was surrounded by four lines of blurring light, as one last device levitated in front his head with the intent of execution. Just as the ball of energy condensed, one to his left died out and he quickly leapt and rolled as energy filled the blank space.
Panting, Leal looked at the devices that swirled in front of him. They weren’t actively approaching him now, only slowly floating side to side in a row. In that moment Leal saw misty silhouettes behind those pieces of metal. Ghosts of all the Purists he killed, standing side by side as they had in the war, their eyes glowing a bright yellow. Each held an arm in line with a device, a physical object they could use in the human world to exact their revenge.
Leal lowered his head. Perhaps this was for the best. There was an irony to it certainly, being killed by the very energy he’d snuffed out countless times. He focused on his uniform, disheveled from all the fighting. His blazer was untucked and wrinkled. One of the buttons had broken off, leaving a large flap that exposed his undershirt. He was a mess, hell, he could practically hear General Iroh yelling at him to shape up. Leal smirked at the thought, just as the dull ringing increased in pitch. There were so many high-pitched whines screeching in tandem that Leal had no idea how many devices were pointed at him, they all blended together into one scream of pain. In a few seconds, they would overtake him.
He looked up one last time. His gaze moved through the devices that were lined up, with the see-through silhouettes of the Purists, and at his opponent. That cloaked boy’s arm was extended to Leal, the light from the devices casting strange shadows all over him. For a moment, they flashed at just the right angle for Leal to make out his features. Blonde hair sprayed out in all directions, a thin nose, and a smooth complexion. Tears streamed down his tensed face uncontrollably.
As if in slow motion all of the balls condensed, then shot out their energy. They crawled toward Leal in a steady line. The world was suddenly silent and tranquil and the energy that would end him seemed bright and comforting. Leal spread his
arms out and smiled, ready to allow himself to be erased.
The world picked up speed all at once. No more than an instant before that energy hit him, it cut out at a right angle and rushed away. The energy, now a giant ball, crashed into the wall to his right and burned through it, leaving a mess of orange, liquid metal swimming down it. He jerked his head to the boy, wondering why he’d spared him, only the hood wasn’t focused on Leal, but rather something behind him.
There Führer Bellator stood with his arm outstretched, focused intently on the cloaked child. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. His eyes burned with an unhinged frustration that was directed squarely at the boy. At his side, General Iroh stood with his arms held low, his metal gauntlets strapped to his fists. He looked at Leal with wide eyes, although his flat lip seemed to show he was trying to hide it. Leal wasn’t sure, but he thought he shook his head ‘no’ ever so slightly.
The boy’s feet slowly lifted off the ground, the back of his coat dangling. He kicked the air helplessly and grasped his throat, a steady wheeze oozing out of his frozen mouth. Something seemed to seize his arms and legs, as both stopped in place. In that moment he was as still as a statue. Then his body expanded from the inside, distorting all of his features until they burst. Bits of the boy sprayed throughout the room in a mess of blood and flesh, liquid and bone. Large clumps of skin slid along the ground, leaving trails of clear puss. Something slapped into Leal’s shin, but he didn’t dare look. He stared wide eyed at the spot where the boy had been, intact, just moments ago. The only spot that wasn’t streaked crimson.
Heavy footfalls trailed behind Leal, but he was in too much shock to turn and face them. Besides, he could tell by the unbearable pressure searing into the back of his head who it was. That bloodlust, directed at him. It took everything he had just to remain standing.