aionlogs | EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (VENERA)

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EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (VENERA)

Sovereign Citizens

VENERA

In contrast the Aion's last visit, they now arrive in Venera on a completely average day... or so it seems. Unlike Godsblood, Venera has been given no warning as to what's about to befall it; the Kenoma are simply authorized to arrive and begin their bloody work without fanfare. Even their entourage of Achamite soldier don't stick out that much; in the time since the plague left, the city has refilled with occupying forces. Notably, the Hylician ones seem to be keeping out of the way, almost as if they've heard some things and would rather not be involved too closely in what's to come.

As opposed to the ghost town it was during the plague, Venera is now reasonably active, with most attending to their usual business. Shops are open, and its people are withdrawn but superficially friendly when meeting strangers. Initially, the targets of the Kenoma hit list will have no way of knowing what's coming for them, but after the first couple attacks word will begin to spread. Those that have recently been engaging in seditious behavior will become harder to find, leaving their usual homes and workplaces to stay elsewhere, and making other attempts to escape the Regent's attention.

Once those alerts have been raised, the Kenoma will have to engage in more detective work to find their targets, questioning other Venerans and seeking out fugitives in the homes of their family and friends. In the meantime, some of those who believe they are in danger may become desperately enough to seek out the Pleroma directly, imploring them for aid. Unfortunately, seeking out one sect may just as easily draw the attention of the other. Most uninvolved Venerans will be too terrified to intervene one way or another, reluctant to aid in the persecution of their neighbors but fearful of consequences. If your Aion travels openly, it will take some effort to pin them down long enough to hold a conversation.

SEEDS OF DESPAIR

Several days into the culling of Venera, the Aions will have witnessed the city gradually withdraw into itself. The streets become vacant as more and more people decide it isn't worth the risk to be seen outside, abandoning work and play alike to hide out in their homes, refusing to answer their doors to all except the most desperate pleading. Those that can't avoid their daily obligations are quiet and morose, trying their best to remain unseen and unremarked upon.

If your character has been observed as a Kenoma, either now or in their previous visits to the city, the citizens will look upon them as if they are the messengers of death. If you are seen as a Pleroma, they will resist your gaze, as if fearing your presence alone might leave them marked. In rarer cases, you will see those with stronger spirits, with glares of hatred or determination. They are powerless now, but seeds have been sewn, and whether they are the seeds of despair or of action are yet unclear.

By the time the Kenoma's hit list has been fully addressed, several have been killed and several more have been rushed from their homes to flee the city entirely. There have been holes left in the tapestry of the community they were once part of. One way or another, their absence will be felt keenly by those they left behind.

QUESTIONS

What is the best way for Aions to travel to Venera?
Estinien has plans to get an early start for the Pleroma by teleporting to the Lover's shrine and flying somewhere closer to set up a portal from the ocean caves near the Godsblood Lodestone to a spot of farmland closer to Venera. Paul will be setting up a portal directly from Achamoth to one of the Achamite outposts in Venera.

How much force can the Kenoma use while interrogating Venerans?
While they are generally not permitted to kill Venerans who haven't tried to physically fight them, they will be permitted to apply both physical and mental pressure upon those that refuse to provide them with information regarding the whereabouts of their targets. This duress should be proportional to the resistance the Veneran is offering. The Regent is not inviting them to terrorize Venera on a level to a level they cannot reasonably blaim themselves for.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah, he definitely should have left.

And it's not even the the throat-clogging swirl of dust in the air, the persistent crackling of falling embers or the faint stench of blood that has him making that assessment. It's when Makoto dares to give him an order (or so he perceives it) that Gen fervently wishes he could turn back time to wash his hands of this whole affair. Eustace is one thing, but M? And it's all in service of saving that asshole? There's disdain clear in the narrowing of Gen's eyes and the wrinkle of his nose as he throws Makoto a sideways glance, a pale sliver of teeth visible with the way his lip curls in distaste. But for better or for worse, whatever shitty retort he might have considered giving never leaves his lips.

It's a blur of movement at the periphery of his vision that has him looking back to Estinien, his stance automatically lowering to something more defensive as he snatches his mace up from its slot at his belt. And that split-second where his body had reacted more quickly than his mind ends up being the only thing that spares him a punctured lung.

Estinien divebombs him almost faster than he can comprehend, and the impact alone sends him skidding back with the grit of dirt beneath his boots. But worse is the feel of those talons digging into his flesh, sliding through skin to into his body like meathooks through a carcass. The arm he'd reflexively braced in a defensive position ultimately hampers the vice-grip of those claws, preventing them from hooking past his ribcage into the soft of his organs, but it's a temporary measure at best -- those talons steadily press deeper into the musculature of his arm, heedless of the way Gen buckles down to try and better endure the damage. Each little movement makes his nerves bristle with terrible heat, sweat already beading at his brow, and Gen fights back a hoarse bark of pain; he sounds just a little more his age in that moment before he finds the breath to snarl,

"-- this enough of an opening for you?!"

As always, it's anger that drives him. Anger that he'd ended up abiding by Makoto's demand. Anger at being stuck in this whole stupid situation, taking this damage for a pair of people who could drop dead for all he cares. And anger at having to be involved in this war in the first place. He'd never asked for any of this. The ground beneath him responds accordingly to that swell of rage -- this time not by bursting outward, but by swallowing up Gen's feet, providing some resistance in the face of Estinien's upward tug.

It won't be enough though, will it? He's never practiced using his magic like that, and it's hard focusing when it feels like there's a knife slowly angling its way up into his body. So it's supplemented by a furious hiss as Gen gives a wide swing of the mace in the moments before that tail comes around to tie him up further -- the heavy, jagged, metal head of the weapon aimed right at the more delicate inside of Estinien's knee.

The grounds of this world and any other that might still exist are littered with reasons Makoto might argue and snap and gripe at Minegishi Gen. One could scarcely walk three steps without tripping over one. But as he turns to look at him, in the midst of clear and mortal danger both to themselves and to others, with such a look of disdain, a thrill of indignant anger spurs up from the pit of Makoto’s stomach and for a remarkably different reason than normal. It doesn’t stem from a place of wounded ego or perceived sleights but instead furious disbelief. Really? You really see fit to act like that now of all times? As far as Makoto is concerned, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place: he’s not going to allow Gen’s foolishness to further endanger him, but he also can’t go inert where he could very well act because he wouldn’t want his conviction called into question.

Everyone assembled is spared the further shattering of the wreckage that was the two teenagers’ “teamwork” as Estinien launches into the air like a barbed missile, wings folding and clawed feet spreading with the predatory intent of a diving falcon. He targets Gen, and for a fleeting moment Makoto feels the remembered malignant fury of when the dragoon had left him behind to die on the stone floor of the Sovereign Shrine. He responds without thinking and in much the same way that he had back then, though this time he has the strength to similarly hurl himself into the air and at the back of his opponent, blade once more flashing in his hands. This time he uses the dirk like it’s intended to be used, attempting to drive its piercing point in-between the bands of protective scaling sweeping away from the man’s ridged spine. This time the blade pierces, but only a fraction as far as his knife had back then, stymied once more by the thick scales.

And once more, Makoto curses under his breath.

It’s not all he has at his disposal, though. Gen does what he can to hold back the clawed foot from sinking into his chest, but he couldn’t possibly hold it for long, and the dragoon’s wings beat to pull all of them into the air. So Makoto’s curl inward to grapple onto them, the talons hooking cruelly into whatever they can and as deep as they can, seeking to restrain, wound, and exacerbate whatever injuries might already exist, all roughly around the same time Gen swings his mace.

Estinien had hoped to make this action quicker. When diving upon Gen this way, the intent had been to lift him only as high as necessary to hurl him down to earth again. There is nothing to be gained from staying still for too long when he is outnumbered, but Gen's grasp of the earth's aether successfully stalls his efforts. Long enough that this whole situation can happen.

It's not that he didn't guess Makoto would be coming - by now, if anything, he sees Makoto as a prolific backstabber - but that entangling himself too closely with Gen really did turn out to be a mistake. He twists enough to cast one furious red eye in Makoto's direction as he approaches, but not enough to keep him from trying to dig his dirk into his scales. It stings, and is annoyingly reminiscent of their previous encounter, but what really threatens him is the attack on his wings.

His wings have been a popular target for Estinien's nine-day battle in Venera, and the thick leather forming them is still marred by the abuse. Patches of dead scales and flesh where necrotic poison has hit, the biting chill of Kaeya's piercing bolts still defrosting. Nidhogg's wings are not fragile things, each segment strong enough to hold on its own, but he'd not prepared to risk it. Especially when Makoto's grasping wings seem much harder to dislodge than the rest of him would be.

Makoto's grapple and Gen's swinging mace mean that he has to change course. The mace blow knocks his knee forward, forcing his bottom claw to relinquish its hold, and as the spikes dig into his scales he decides to embrace it. Fine. If Makoto wants to tag in, he can tag in.

Estinien uses his remaining grip on Gen as a stepping stool with which to launch himself into air, taking Makoto with him, pulling his claws free but only while trying to take as much flesh as he can with him. In the meantime, if Makoto intends to grapple, Estinien will return the favour. His tail makes a move to coil around the demon, with the intent of holding him in place...

...all so that his leap into the sky can be punctuated by flipping into another Dragonfire Dive, straight back onto Gen and the ground he's sewn himself into. That Estinien is about to explode into flame may seem apparent. Whether or not Makoto is actually forced to come along for the ride, or whether he squirms away midair, it's fortunate that a dragoon does not necessarily need wings to fly.

Whatever crumb of relief or victory he feels from the mace making impact with its target is almost immediately squelched when that claw unhooks from his flesh. Gen grits his teeth hard as he fights back his voice, ignoring the vicious pain that rips through torn flesh when he reels his arm back for another swing of the weapon --

only to get the air knocked out of him as Estinien kicks off him, those talons digging deeper into his torso for a moment before tearing out with the bright flourish of blood. It hurts enough to make his vision go blank for a second, further shaving down the precious little time he has to react to Estinien's incoming dive, and it's only the hard pulse of adrenaline through his veins that lets him react at all. It's just too bad his options are few in the first place, and the only one he can see working still isn't great.

God, this is going to suck.

Gen seems to be frozen in place at first save a squaring of the shoulders. But Estinien launches himself into that dive, and in the split second before those talons can make impact -- Gen abruptly drops low. It's not just that he falls into a crouch, but that the ground beneath him is suddenly gouged out, like an enormous hand's carved a trench below his feet. Or rather, a grave just big enough for two. And with the sudden change of setting, and Makoto hampering the movement of Estinien's wings, it's dubious he'd be able to change his momentum or trajectory in mid-air on quick enough notice. That dive should instead send him crashing into the side of the makeshift pit that Gen's dropped himself into, once more clouding the air with dust and dirt and smoke.

Did Makoto manage to untangle himself before that impact? Or was the coil of Estinien's tail too vicious for that? Regardless, that trench makes for a terribly claustrophobic space, and one where Estinien's stature is bound to work against him; how well can he maneuver his wings or tail when he's blocked on all sides by walls of dirt?

Granted, that change of terrain's come at significant cost -- moving the earth that dramatically is something Gen has yet to grow acclimated to, and the drain of magic's already left him a little light-headed and queasy. Not the best condition to be in when he's essentially trapped himself in a pit with someone like Estinien. But the situation is what it is, and like hell he's going to give up without a fight. Even as he feels his clothes start to stick to his skin with blood, he tries to lunge back in before Estinien's had a chance to react. The mace's heavy head whistles through the air as he directs as heavy a swing as he can manage right towards Estinien's chest.

Fighting the dragoon is more like fighting a hydra: attempt to lock down or sever one head, and two more appear. Even with his limited options of attack, his primary motivation had been to at the very least attempt to limit whatever Estinien was about to inflict on Gen, and interfering with his attempts to get into the air had been the clearest option to him at the time. But even with the wings’s ability to move hampered and the mace connecting with a brutal crunch into the man’s knee, he merely abandons former avenues of attack and chooses yet another still open to him. He pushes off of the ground (and, by association, Gen — Makoto might not be able to see him from his position, but the gruesome sound of tearing flesh and spilt blood paints a vivid enough picture), taking both himself and his hanger-on into the air with a powerful jump. By the time the dragoon has reached the pinnacle of that leap and flips to prepare to dive, the serpentine coil a draconic tail has encircled Makoto’s torso to hold him in place, its crushing pressure enough to cause the barrier of his ribs to loudly protest. It was an additive measure that was scarcely necessary; the one draw-back to hooking his wings into the dragoon’s is that it’s far more challenging to release than it is to grasp. Even if he could disentangle them, there’s no way he’d have enough time (or strength) to free himself from the hold of his tail — and all of this is what Makoto mentally works through as they are mid-dive, plunging towards Gen, the crackling of heat in the air beginning to singe his lungs.

He wishes there was more he could do. Truly, it seems like every time he develops one ability that might give him some new advantage, he comes to realize at least three or four new shortcomings and weaknesses. For this one assault, Gen will have to be on his own, or at least until he can figure out what to do next.

Makoto attempts to wrench the dagger free and casts his gaze up, drawing a Doorway with his other hand. His weight disappears instantaneously, both the tail and wings suddenly freed up, and he reappears a split second later roughly where they had been at the apex of the jump, arms crossed in front of his face against the sudden heat and light of the Dragonfire Dive. Teleporting again so soon takes its toll, as does the activated Curse that manifests as a phantom double-image of angelic wings beating as his draconic ones do, slowly sapping his strength and transferring it to… really, whoever is closest. Those beats are far more labored now, struggling to keep him aloft; he does what he can to draw strength from pain and refocuses his attention below to where Gen has gouged out a pit within the earth, ready to dive at a moment’s notice.

Ryunosuke had been in the middle of trying to think of what to say to poor Thoma, because it occurs to him... He and Kaeya had a common acquaintance in Lumine, didn't they? It would follow then, that they might be familiar with one another as well. What a horrible thing to witness...

Before he could follow that train of thought any further, all hell had broken loose.

Unlike Estinien, Ryunosuke doesn't have the benefit of years of dragoon training to tip him off. A pointed ear swiveled absentmindedly in the direction of Makoto's approach, but he doesn't think much of it until M is suddenly there and Ryunosuke is suddenly flung backwards, shoved out of the way by Estinien while his attention is fixed on the new arrival...

Things start escalating fast from there. Ryunosuke casts a bubble around himself to soften the fall, and then hastily scrambles back over to Thoma to try and shield him while Estinien and M scuffle, because Thoma's still tied up and can't defend himself if any crossfire happens to come their way, and now it sounds like more Kenoma are showing up--

Ryunosuke is panicking. The last time he saw M and Estinien in the same place, it hadn't exactly ended well?? There's no telling what could happen this time. He tries to untie Thoma first, because that seems the most practical, but the knots are complicated and he doesn't have the power to tear through bonds as effortlessly as Estinien had done with his, and he keeps glancing wildly between the ropes and the fight--

Estinien slamming down into that hole is kind of the last straw. Maybe Estinien could handle both Kenoma on his own... But Ryunosuke doesn't want to take any chances.

"I'm sorry, j-just hold on a moment, I'll be back for you!" he stammers at Thoma, before getting up and sprinting into the fray. It looks like M is about to try and divebomb into the pit, and Ryu does the first thing he can think of to try and keep things from getting worse.

A shimmering gold sphere of energy forms around the flying Kenoma, sealing him inside. As it turns out, this magic that was originally intended to protect, can also work quite well to contain.

As the flames disperse, Estinien would usually be prepared to leap away as quickly as he arrived. Dragoons were agile fighters, and mobility was key, which means that no matter how much armor he might have, he knows the benefits of staying on the move. This means when his landing is disrupted by the ground seemingly falling out beneath him, he is caught off guard by the sudden need to reorientate. It doesn't help that Makoto has seemingly just disappeared, the weight on his back gone as his aching wings are left to unfurl in a space far too small for them.

He doesn't know what Gen's aim is. Is this a trap? Above him, he catches a flicker of Makoto in his peripheral, now glowing with a light that is painfully familiar. Wings?

His own wings are struggling, colliding with the walls of the hole, his tail lashing and kicking up debris. He doesn't know what his opponent's endgame is, but he does know they are now in very close quarters. Wherever this was going, he can only foresee it being looked back upon as a mistake.

Without leaving Gen with more time to think, Estinien goes all in. His taloned feet, a clawed hand, his tail, his wings, even the horns on his head - he uses the closed space to corner Gen with them, lashing out with every sharp edge at his disposal. The only advantage that remains unused is the fist that clenches Kaeya's shard, nearly forgotten about in the struggle.

He punctuates it all with a belch of flame, heat coursing through the scales of his neck and erupting past his snarling fangs.

The flash of light from overhead has Gen giving a startled jolt, his gaze immediately drawn upwards past the lip of the trench he's trapped himself and Estinien in, where he can just barely make out a sphere of shimmering light. And within that sphere, M, trapped like a rat. What the hell even is that? -- it doesn't matter. Maybe M will be able to break his way out of that thing, maybe not. Either way, Gen doesn't get much of a chance to consider the potential outcomes. Because he gets all of half of a second to take a halting breath, then Estinien's on him.

How does the saying go? Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Because yeah, this sucks about as much as he'd expected.

Claws tears, that tailtip rips into his side, a wing smacks him hard across the head. Though Gen reflexively raises his arms to try and protect his face, he's still almost blinded when the slash of talons slices through his forearm, spraying blood into his face. He immediately knows that staying here is basically a death sentence, and that grim thought helps him regroup out of sheer fury, if nothing else.

The next lash of claws is deflected with a hard swing of the mace, the sound of steel clashing off talons almost muffling his enraged snarl; Gen glares at Estinien for a split second before giving a hard swipe of his other arm, hand empty but fingers tensed like claws. And in response, the grave that he's dug for them promptly begins to collapse around Estinien from either side and behind him, dirt and rocks surging forth to bury him.

Surely even someone like Estinien isn't immune to the crush of earth. But how long will obstacle hamper him for? He's not sure. Gen's completely given up on formulating plans or thinking in the long term. All that matters is moment-to-moment survival, and as soon as he's collapsed the pit around Estinien, he commands the earth to form footholds so he can haul himself out of the hole. His pulse is pounding in his ear, his skin hot and sticky with lacerations and blood, and he almost stumbles when he whirls around to try and keep track of Estinien's movements once more.

What next?

Invisibility is such a... unique power. It allows one to watch, in relative safety. Silco had intended to just creep by the fight, on his way to yet another target as laid out by the Regent. That's what he was best at, after all. Sneaking up, making someone disappear, that's simply Undercity tactics.

So he'd been meaning to sneak by the fight, let Kaeya fight the dragon...man... thing. Really, he looked like something Singed would have made -- but things took a turn, and he'd stuck around. Watched. Watched his shard get plucked from his eye, with a visceral tug, and Silco's stomach lurched -- a phantom pain in his own too-wide eye, knowing what pain like that felt like.

He still didn't move, of course. What could he do? Nothing, but he considered going after Estinien the Dragon-man-thing with a knife, but no, that was useless. Foolish. He'd never been one for foolish acts.

Young men, though, were. A fight brewed, first Gen, and then... Makoto, he supposed. Silco watched with one unblinking eye, his feet creeping ever-slowly toward the battle. His eyes took stock of the balance, how many of those shimmering lights, some as equally bright as his dark, and he inhaled, feeling that fury, and his eyes kept drawing back to Kaeya's shard in his hand. Eustace, thankfully, took the body, but the shard... he felt revulsion of the thought of anyone touching his shard. He felt that sick feeling, and he inhaled slowly, before he crept a little closer, and closer.

Makoto was bubbled, and Gen... looked in trouble. He breathed in, and crept up beside him. There was only one thing that would probably turn the tide, and Silco had no interest in losing Kaeya to the Pleroma, or giving them the advantage of a kill like that.

Besides, Gen had asked about the shimmer, hadn't he? His fingers slid close, and he reached out to touch his back, index finger touched the back of his neck -- skin to skin -- in what could have been called a fatherly pat, if only it weren't for the dose of Shimmer that he released.

He could feel his invisibility drop, and he smiled up at Estinien, and took a few steps back, to let the Shimmer overtake Gen, before he could get swiped himself. "Hello there," he greeted, a sharp grin. "Don't mind me, just..." hands spread, in an almost casual, magnanimous gesture. "Passing through."

It's when the earth around them collapses that Estinien realizes his desperate desire to put Gen down has played against his better judgment. If he had focused all his attention on escaping the pit, he could have easily avoided this outcome - but instead his attention had been drawn to that miserable little bastard and how much he wanted to tear him limb from limb, to make him feel the helpless despair Estinien had in their last encounter.

It was a mistake, surely, to let Estinien get so close. Yet, the greater mistake was Estinien allowing himself the indulgence.

He leaps at the precise moment he realizes what is happening, but the earth falls quickly enough that his lower extremities don't make it clear in time. His tail and wings, so constricted by the tight space, are buried along with his lower half. He is strong, especially transformed as he is, but the earth is heavy - it's only when he's straining against it that the impacts Gen made against his chest and leg really start to process.

In the meantime, Silco is free to make his appearance... and Estinien realizes fully that things are about to take a turn for the worst.

The push-pull of his conflicting wants ends up with Eustace going only a few dozen feet away from the storehouse. Just a far enough distance that he and Kaeya are no longer coated with earthen debris each time he looks up, but close enough that he can still hear the clash of mace against claw and feel the slight quiver of the ground as Gen fights.

Much as he doesn't relish the thought of abandoning Kaeya while he's on the brink of death, better to risk a single dissipation rather than multiple. And there's something distinctly unpleasant about the thought of a teacher abandoning his students when they might benefit from help the most. So down Kaeya goes, laid out as gently as Eustace can manage before he's turning on his heel and sprinting back towards the storehouse.

What he sees as soon as he runs back is—worse. Makoto trapped in some sort of....bubble? enclosure? shield? Gen on the ground, body streaked with blood and dirt. The no-longer-prisoner Ryunosuke some feet away, staring at Makoto. The only thing that sparks the smallest flicker of grim satisfaction is Estinien half-buried in the ground, momentarily trapped despite how much he struggles and strains. (Somewhere in there, Silco's shadowy appearance makes an impression, but as little more than an afterthought.)

Hard to know exactly the cause of whatever's trapping Makoto, but if he had to take a guess it's most likely coming from the shortstack some feet away. First things first, then. Get rid of any interference before refocusing on the main event.

He pulls out his gun and fires a shot at Ryunosuke. Not a bullet but a bolt of lightning, intended to disable rather than destroy.

It's nice that Eustace isn't shooting to kill at least, but that's a distinction that Ryunosuke can hardly appreciate in the heat of the moment. He's not even sure what to do with Makoto once he traps him, which is part of why he leaves himself wide open to attack like that, aside from his general inexperience with these things; he's just kind of standing there, alarmed that it actually worked, his panicked brain stalling out.

And just like that, before he can even reach a decision, his concentration is shattered. The bubble shimmers and fades away uselessly as Eustace's bolt sends a jolt of pain through Ryunosuke's entire body; he yowls, maybe even more out of surprise than pain, because he honestly has no idea what what the heck even hit him; the shock knocks him away about a foot or two, where he lands unsteadily on his feet, looking frantically all around in wild-eyed confusion, tail lashing about.

Looking in the direction the hit came from, he spots Eustace with his gun, which explains things, he supposes. No clue what kind of gun shoots LIGHTNING instead of bullets, but whatever, that's honestly kind of a relief in some ways....

He's trying to reorient himself, counting the Kenoma present-- Gen, M, Eustace-- His eyes land on Silco briefly. Who the HECK is that guy and when did he get here!?!

That makes four of them, at least three of whom are now converging on Estinien, who's stuck half-buried in the ground. Ryunosuke has no idea what the old guy just did to Gen but he's not about to wait around and find out. Sometimes, he just has to let his stupid impulses carry him forward, and deal with the consequences later.

He springs forward and tries to put himself between Estinien and the two Kenoma (Gen and Silco), casting another one of those shimmering gold bubbles around himself this time.

Silco's lucky Gen doesn't reflexively clock him the moment he feels that touch at the back of his neck. He does come close, whirling around with mace raised and catching himself at the last second, staring at Silco with wide eyes and expression warped with confusion, about to ask why the hell he's here. But before he can spit out so much as a single abrasive word, his breath catches in his throat, his pulse escalating to a heady thrum.

And the Shimmer burns through his body like a wildfire.

Both the crackle of lighting from Eustace's gun and the shimmer of Ryunosuke's protective bubble dissipating go entirely unnoticed. For a moment all Gen can think about is the sensation of something acrid surging through his veins, leaving an unbearable heat simmering in its wake; his voice escapes his throat in a guttural snarl as he doubles over, hand clawing at his chest heedless of the way he exacerbates his injuries in a hapless attempt to quell the strange pressure building in his lungs. His heart feels like it's hammering against his ribcage hard enough to explode. It hurts, he can taste the iron tang of blood and the sour rise of bile at the back of his throat, and his field of vision is clouding an electric hue at the edges. But -- ...

It can't take Ryunosuke more than a few scant moments to locate himself between Estinien and Gen. But just that amount of time is enough. That shimmering bubble forms itself around him again, and Gen promptly raises his head to glare at him -- the dark of his pupils replaced by an inhuman glow, lines of incandescent purple etched across his temple -- then, without hesitation, aims a two-handed swing of the mace straight at Ryunosuke. The heavy metal head smashes against that barrier with a force that humans shouldn't naturally be capable of, more than hard enough to send the entire thing careening off to the side, Ryunosuke and all.

But Gen barely pays it any mind. Ryunosuke was simply an obstacle on the way to his goal, which he stares at with a vicious laser focus: Estinien. This person, an enemy, who hurt him, who deserves to be hurt back as much as possible.

And it's truly unfortunate for Estinien that with Gen's focus sharpened to a razor's edge, an ability granted to him which had been lying dormant thus far finally stirs awake. Not to grant Gen any further strength but to simply cause Estinien as much suffering as possible -- a reflex born of pure spite, hell-bent on forcing Estinien to endure the same pain he does. There's no warning, no visual indication of what's going on. Estinien will only have the chance to look up and see Gen lunging his way with renewed speed and ferocity -- then an explosion of pain slams into him like a cannonball.

Most of it is persistent and caustic, like a heated blade searing through nerves. Gen might be able to temporarily ignore the sensation of his myriad injuries thanks to the Shimmer's effects, but Estinien gets no such reprieve. On top of that, more pain -- a tightness around the lungs, like fingers clasped around the lungs. A sick feeling boiling in the pit of the stomach, pulse beating at a deafening roar, the burn of the Shimmer driving muscles and organs to their limits. A sickening cocktail of sensation thrust upon Estinien at the same moment that Gen snarls, aiming a vicious swing of his mace aimed right at Estinien's skull.

Edited 2022-07-21 18:58 (UTC)

Somehow, it's happening again.

He's stuck. He can't shift his body, his lower limbs and wings pinned down, pressed down by the weight of the earth. Ahead of him, his enemy, bearing down on him, raising his weapon to bludgeon, to kill. The scenes blend together - in one instant, Gen is on top of him, a petrified arm raised above his head, swinging it down as Estinien is powerless to stop him. In the next, Gen approaches, veins and muscles bulging, mace swinging to crush his skull in perfect synchronicity.

He's hurting now, and he doesn't know why. His body aches, as if threatening to fall apart, eroded by forces he doesn't understand. He's dying, he thinks.

As he had before, he tries to shift his head to the side. The mace clangs across the horns that protect the side of Estinien's head, chipping off bits of keratin as it does. His neck is jarred, protected from having his skull cracked but not the force of the vibrations it sends through him, confusing his thoughts further. He feels like he's slipping all over again, off that blinding white precipice, losing control of his body and mind as panic and agony consumes him.

Unnoticed, Kaeya's shard drops from his hand.

No.

Despite the fear, the sickness, the way his mind threatens to spiral beyond return: he grasps for the mace that has struck him, wrapping his claws around its shaft and pulling with all his strength. No. No more. The increasingly turbulent emotions within him rise, tearing through his throat and out his mouth, another draconic scream of anguish and hatred ripping through everyone who stand near. As if those psychic wounds have been made manifest, it radiates outward in a storm of etheric and sonic power, striking at bodies and minds alike.

All at once, the sounds of conflict cut off all around him, and his surroundings are painted in semi-translucent gold. All Makoto can hear is the sound of his own ragged breathing, of the slow beat of his wings, of the soft plinking sound where its talons made contact with the barrier that had suddenly encompassed him. His pale eyes furiously scour the room before settling upon Ryu, setting him in a deeply baleful gaze. Given that Estinien and Gen are still locked in combat in a double-wide grave and the other prisoner is still bound, process of elimination tells him that this ignoble state of encapsulation he’s suddenly in is his doing.

Ire boils up in his stomach, burning like bile in his throat. From the outside, those soft clinking sounds resume with renewed ferocity as the demon starts to desperately break free of his prison, slashing at its resolute golden surface with the talons of his wings, his blade, his hands, anything he can manage.

Really, with his fury centered squarely on Ryu, he doesn’t pay attention to the play-by-play of what happens next until there’s a startling flash of light that lances from one end of the storehouse to the other directly beneath him, and then the barrier disappears. Makoto has it in his head for a split-second to divebomb Ryu instead and let him know exactly what he had thought about that whole thing, but his better judgment grapples his petty vindictiveness into submission. His eyes scan the scene below him. He had seemingly been freed by Eustace’s return; the erune had shot his weapon at Ryu, who had taken a moment to recover from its blast before interjecting himself between Gen, who had gotten out of the hole in the ground before half-collapsing it around Estinien, and who was now joined by… Silco, Makoto believes he remembers his name to be.

Things have gotten much more complicated, but he can’t say he’s grudging of additional help.

His attention is drawn with morbid fascination at sudden movement from Gen — he had missed the exact moment that Silco had touched him with Shimmer, but now he pays witness to its shocking effects. The other young man smacks Ryu’s bubble aside with his club like a golf ball, bearing down on Estinien with murderous intent. After the sickening crunch of steel slamming into the crest of horns adorning the dragoon’s head, the moment that Makoto’s been waiting for all this time finally comes: there’s a flicker of movement of the aura encircling Kaeya’s shard, and it’s dropped to the ground, loosed from the man’s resilient claws.

The demon doesn’t think. He folds in his wings, and he dives.

He’s actually… never done a maneuver like this before. He realizes this when he’s less than a few feet from the ground, ticking up closer to terminal velocity and suddenly unsure of how to stop from dashing himself across the ground. His wings flare out somewhat (either by instinct or luck, who’s to say), catching enough of a billow of air to keep him from doing just that. He does hit the ground rather hard, but not before he scoops up the shard in both hands, momentum causing him to tumble a few feet away with it cradled to his chest.

He doesn’t have any time to feel victory or relief. Estinien roars again, and for the first time, Makoto is right next to it to suffer the brunt of its effects. He cries out in pain as the sound presses in on both sides of his head, a mental assault like a vice closing in on either temple. At the same time he faces the overwhelming mental pressure from the roar, he becomes painfully aware of his physical exhaustion and the lacerations that encircle his body like an embrace. In the moment, it’s almost too much — but at least he has the impulse to curl in his arms towards his chest, wrapping his wings around himself to attempt to shield from the invisible attack.

Desperation to get away drives him to move next, even doing so through the lingering shock and pain. His wings part to give him vision, and one of the first things he sees between them is Silco, standing a distance away. He draws one last Doorway and teleports to his side, gasping aloud as he reappears on the ground next to him a half-second later. Enervation seeps bone-deep into his limbs, his wings feeling as heavy as lead — the angelic after-image they cast from the Innocent’s curse seeming to glow brighter, to grow more defined, as if reveling in the opportunity to scour from him what little energy he has left and give it away to those closest to him.

It’s all he can do to pull himself up to one knee, reaching a shaking hand out to Silco. He will drop Kaeya’s shard into his, if he allows himself to.

“Get him — out of here.”

His voice is a half-gasp, half-growl. His goodwill is all but expired at this point; as far as he’s concerned, he no longer owes Kaeya a debt of gratitude, having more than paid it back in pain and blood.

Everything happened so fast. It's difficult, between the light of all of their powers, the chaos of Estinien beneath the earth, the bubbles taking hold of different people -- and Silco, behind them all, still stepping away slowly, each step a little faster, as he tried to get out of the worst of it. He's one man, with no power like this, and the chaos makes his head keep twisting back, and forth, trying to make sense of it all.

It's so chaotic, that he almost doesn't get the opportunity to properly appreciate that tell-tale transformation Gen took on, the surge of power, making him twist in pain, his body bulging from the high adrenaline that was once Singed's carefully crafted formula -- and now Silco's own power. Even in all of the chaos, he has to stop, and appreciate it, only a scant few meters away, having made careful steps to ensure he wasn't picked out in all of this.

Silco was, after all, very good at slithering away.

Gen smacked the bubbled little man away -- not sure who that was -- and went after Estinien. He couldn't help the sharp, delighted grin that spread across his face. Better than he'd even expected. If he'd had the foresight, he would have placed a portal to Achamoth right here, and let one of them throw Estinien into the portal, to wither before the Regent's grasp, but alas, he'd not had that ability to guess that they would find themselves in such a predicament. Instead, the dragonic man roared -- and Silco had to clutch his ears, stumbling back a few more steps, clutching at the side of his head, to try and grip his head enough to distract himself from that horrid sound.

But someone was moving through it -- or during it -- and Makoto surprised him, when he appeared next to him, his hand opened to reveal Kaeya's -- shard.

His mouth opened, slightly, before he nodded, and reached out, to grasp his hand, and take his shard.

He smiled, when he did so, noting the man's exhaustion, the way his voice was almost a gasp, and he nodded toward the fight. "I'll take that, and let me give you a little..." a tip of his head, now, almost playful. "Pick-me-up, hm?"

When his hand left Makoto's, Kaeya's shard grasped in his palm, he let his fingers drag on his palm, a final burst of that Shimmer-power to infuse into him. He pulled away, and stood, ran a hand through his hair, one hand clutched Kaeya's shard tight, like if he didn't, he would lose it, or let go. "Now, why don't you give Gen a little bit of backup, before he's the next one to get ripped apart?"

He took a few more steps away, in the direction he thinks he saw Eustace drag Kaeya's body away, carefully trying to slip his way out of the fray, leaving Gen and Makoto to wreak havoc with shimmer in their veins.

Kaeya has lost track of time at some point. Once Estinien discarded his body aside, everything that occurred immediately afterwards feels like a blur, like the end credits of a movie playing through at twice the speed, but the brightest and most vivid parts are all the ones that involved nothing but pain. It's not just because his soul has just been ripped away from him so brutally, but everything else that happened afterwards.

Like everything has been amplified, he can feel Estinien's hatred and his anger over the way that the scene is unfolding — not only has Makoto entered the fray, but soon enough, Gen and Eustace have arrived too. He vaguely remembers getting whisked away in Eustace's arms before that, too, become too much to handle, and then he can't recall much more after that. The farther away he is from his shard, the more disconnected he feels, as if his nerves are fraying at the edges, as if what makes him whole and complete is falling apart at the seams.

It hurts so much.

It's all he can really focus on up until he realizes that he's been left behind somewhere a few ways away from the storehouse. Eustace must have gone back inside, it's the only thing that makes sense right now, and so what he does next is a direct result of that: he struggles to bring himself to a stand. He attempts to do so a few times, each one more agonizing than the last, but when it seems like it isn't going to work, he does the next best thing which is dragging himself in a slow crawl.

He doesn't get very far, not with what little strength he last left, and when he hears Estinien's roar again, he can't help the new wave that overtakes him completely. The disorientation and misery are much worse this time around, overcoming him to the point where it just feels like that's all he is left with now. His saving grace comes when he finds the energy to finally look up. He sees someone he didn't expect to be anywhere near here at all.

Almost immediately, he is overcome with a plethora of emotions that he can't quite process at this very moment. The strongest one, and perhaps the most sincere, is that of relief when he realizes it's Silco who now holds his shard. This is the same man who stayed with him when everyone else left him behind, so it's no surprise that he's so grateful for this small reprieve. Maybe it's sad to think about how he feels the safest around a man he can barely trust, but he doesn't even really care at this point. Since it's Silco, he...

Everything goes black soon after that, leaving that thought unfinished.

Makoto hadn’t seen the moment when Silco had pushed an infusion of Shimmer into Gen’s body, lacing his veins with the overwhelming chemical power that animated him now. If he had, perhaps he might have been more cautious in reaching out to Silco.

Or perhaps he would have entreated him for it.

Either way, the shard passes from his hand and into the scarred man’s, but before Makoto’s arm can fall and he slowly resumes his inexorable slouch towards unconsciousness, a jolt of something indescribable passes from Silco’s fingertips and into the palm of Makoto’s hand, passing through the thin barrier of skin where the symbol of the Firebrand was carved into pale scar tissue. He gasps again, but this time it’s less to drag air into his starving lungs but instead out of shock, out of pain. “What —” It feels like lightning lancing from his hand up to his shoulder, through his chest, radiating through every nerve and capillary with the slow, voracious, searing sensation of a chemical burn. His breathing grows fast and ragged, its edges textured with a low growl as his shoulders bow. For a moment all he can think of is that moment when Dextera grabbed his arm and scorched the surface of his soul — he had thought in that moment that he might die, and he thinks the same for a split second now, his defenses overwhelmed by what was now inside of him, flowing through his veins, and which he couldn’t escape.

But it was only for that second. Because in the next, something else begins to flow in, chasing after and nipping at the heels of confusion and pain.

Power.

It’s something Makoto’s never had, not with his sleight build and unadorned human body — it’s something that he had only wielded metaphorically in hell, weaving verbal tapestries with a silvered tongue to entreat others to do what he couldn’t for him. The only strength he had ever had had been given to him or stolen, just like the wings that he wore now, which he had torn from the body of a man he had strung along just so he could take them for himself. So when Shimmer burns through his veins like purple fire, visible beneath thin and pale skin, and brings with it strength and energy that allow him to get to his feet once more, he almost doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels like he’s been given a tempest with no further instructions but to control it with his very hands.

He doesn’t know how well he will be able to do that, but — he’s eager to try. His eyes still burn pale, but the sclera around them are now a bright purple to match the spiderweb of pulsing veins beneath his skin, a network which extends to backlight the diamond weave of the scales along the backs of his wings and cross through their leathery membranes. Not even Shimmer can make much of a hulk out of this scrap of a boy, but his thin limbs thread with rangy muscle he’d never come by naturally, the deep gouges in his torso temporarily forgotten even as they continue to ooze neon blood. The growling sound grows louder, then tearing away into a snarl — and then worse. He starts laughing, the sound both exhilarated and trimmed in mania.

At some point he’d dropped his dagger — perhaps when he had scooped up Kaeya’s shard instead — but it didn’t matter. Call it the effects of Shimmer or his own perceived ineffectiveness on his psyche, but his hands now curl with sharp claws, his lips peeling back from teeth sharpened into a feral grin. In the thrill of the moment, he doesn’t care what sort of negative repercussions he might face with the Shimmer rioting through his body, what further damage he might receive charging into the lion’s den. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care — it’s worth it, just so he can feel like this...!

With one last laugh, his wings power him off of the ground and forward, intent on launching himself back into the fray.

Within him, Estinien feels as if something is breaking, like a fissure in the earth growing wider and wide with each emotional and physical blow. As his claws tighten around the mace, as Ryu is dispensed, as he sees Makoto be infected with the same power as Gen... the Kenoma is advancing. It encircles him, its servants determined to drag him down into that dark that he's tried so hard to escape.

As if answering his pain, his desperation, something else awakens within him. A familiar, haunting presence sets its gaze upon its lost ward, and on wings of serenity and judgment, it answers his cries.

The light bursts forth, his body swathed in a chorus of phantom wings. He can feel himself fading, his fear and hatred dissolving in its soothing touch, his perception of the situation blurring until he no longer feels as if he's observing it through the same mind. Though a flame still burns within him, he is awash in whiteness, a hollowed light that he realizes now is the rightful way of things. He is someone else, someone who knows and understands the meaning of true peace.

Why had he been so afraid, in this embrace?

A ringed halo of fire ignited behind him as his colours fade, his skin as untouched porcelain and scales as shining pearls, his hair drifting weightlessly around him. His body breaks free of the earth that contained it, reborn in this cocoon of feathers and light. Before him, he sees the darkness, a rotting infection within its servants and staining the earth like blood. It's an aberration that must needs be cleansed, if the world is to ever return to peace.

He reaches into his shard, now glowing brightly, and pulls forth a spear of pure Pleroma, adorned with feathered wings. Leveling it against his foes, he speaks in a voice that is not his, a blending between that of Estinien Wyrmblood and an unseen woman's.

"Children of darkness, no longer shall you tread blood and filth upon sacred ground. Witness the strength of the Monad and repent!"

That first impact of the mace against Estinien's horns had felt wonderful. It should happen again. Shatter those horns next time, and his skull along with it. Too bad a clawed hand comes grasping at the weapon's shaft before Gen can reel it back for another blow, halting its movements. And while the Shimmer's boost to his strength means he might have stood a chance at retaining his grip on it despite Estinien's prodigious strength ... a sudden interference doesn't let that happen.

That draconic scream is bad enough, blowing out his eardrums in a repeat performance of his last clash with Estinien, the shockwaves enough to make his bones quiver as he falls back a step. The blinding flash of light that comes hot on its heels is even worse. Gen is forced to flinch back for a moment, coughing and gasping for air as he forces his diaphragm to cooperate with him once more, eyes narrowed as he looks up at the chilling sight of Estinien wreathed in light.

It's what most would consider an awe-inspiring spectacle. Just the brandishing of that spear, accompanied by words spoken in that eerie two-toned voice, should be enough to make most people cower. Something deep in his chest does quiver with anxiety, the Kenoma's influence wanting to shy away from the reach of that light.

-- but also, Gen doesn't care.

The last words have barely fallen from Estinien's lips before he snarls and gives a wide swipe of the arm. Having had his mace flung aside admist the chaos, he's only left with one real option: to try and drag Estinien into the earth once more. Deep in his veins, his body shrieks and protests this reckless use of magic, but he doesn't care about that, either. He's only wearing a wolfish grin as he commands the ground directly to Estinien's side to surge upwards like a tidal wave, aimed at crashing into Estinien with its full weight and dragging him back down to crawl in the dirt.

And while he certainly isn't thinking of cooperating with anyone -- his field of vision narrowed to a very small point, focused solely on Estinien -- maybe that distraction will occupy Estinien enough to leave him vulnerable to a second avenue of attack.

Weakened and largely immobile half-buried in the ground, Estinien looked for all the world like he might have fallen to a similarly violent fate as their last time here in Venera — or, at least, that’s the thought that flits through Makoto’s warped mind in the few short seconds of his approach. That is, of course, until the man bursts into a column of blinding light. The force and the shock of it causing Makoto to drop to the ground and skid to a temporary halt, sheltering his eyes from the fierce brightness. The sound of feathery wings beating fills the air, and it causes a phantom pain to twinge in-between the layers of Shimmer-addled thought; it makes him more aware of the ghostly after-image that his Curse casts behind his own wings, their roots sunk deep into his essence so they could slowly rob his vitality from him. Anger, pain, confusion, humiliation — as he lowers his clawed hands to set the divine and righteous figure of the Innocence-touched dragoon in his irate gaze, all of these flood his veins just as readily as the Shimmer had just a moment ago.

The canniness of self-preservation would have pleaded with him to turn around and flee, but there’s little of that left in Makoto in the state that he’s in. At the core of this dire engine, the ravenous need for revenge burns on eternal, and it pushes him forward in blind rage. It doesn’t matter what it is, it doesn’t matter who it is — he wants to find anything related to that thing and tear it to bloody pieces with his own hands. Even with the long, dreadful spear drawn and leveled at them and the condemning words hanging in the air with their backdrop of softly-beating wings, he forces himself forward and into the air again, a feral snarl tearing away from the back of his throat.

Seeing red and heavily tunnel visioned, he’s not really paying attention to Gen in this moment (or anything else, for that matter), but that doesn’t mean he’s completely oblivious. He feels the earth shudder beneath his feet before he lifts back off into the air, an instinct to track movement drawing his attention to the swell of ground that crests and crashes like a wave towards Estinien’s luminescent form. Though presently not able to assess the situation with the rationality he might normally, a sort of predatory animal instinct causes him to split off from where this attack is occurring; he circles around so that when Estinien has to contend with the surge of manipulated earth, Makoto will lunge at whatever blind spot might have been opened up (or not, as he will attack either way), all scything claws, grasping talons, and gnashing teeth, all careless of what target they might hit so long as it bled.

All in all, Silco was feeling rather pleased with himself. He'd managed to sneak into the fray, capture Kaeya's shard, and give a nice dose of his Shimmer to the two other Kenoma fighting up close. It was almost like old times, finding the weak, the desperate, or those that craved the kind of power Shimmer gave, and dosing them up in the middle of battle. He'd just finished doing that, before he'd arrived in Horos, and while that hadn't been as successful, he'd been feeling pleased enough with himself, his footsteps still slow enough to not draw any attention.

He'd tried to go invisible, but... the ability didn't seem to work. He tried again, and again, but each time, he could see his hand before him, like it was still present and visible. He grimaced, but kept moving, looking over his shoulder occasionally, to catch glimpses of the action, and make sure he wasn't going to be done in by an errant attack, or done in if Estinien hit the ground like he had before.

Light -- light that bright, that he saw when he looked over his shoulder -- was the first sign that something was wrong. Silco's feet stumbled, caught off guard by the halo, the wings, and his hands shook, a reaction to the vile, white presence that he remembered. He remembered that light, the attempt to soothe him and his lips peeled back from his teeth, fury and disgust, his nose curled, and he about barked out to the two shimmer-laden teens to attack, but they were already on the attack, launching themselves at that... thing.

The...Mondad. He filed that away for later. Perhaps the Regent would know, he doubted he would find word of it in the Library, but he would look all the same, later. For now, he needed out of here, before that thing sought him out again, and a phantom pain throbbed through his hand that he'd lost the last time he'd been in Venera.

Out, he needed out. His head wheeled back and forth, and he looked for an exit, Kaeya's shard still clutched in his hand, and he squeezed it, his head wheeling around, his hair already askew again from being startled by the...Creature. He started walking -- Running -- faster, to get out of here. He needed to get away from that thing. He couldn't stab it, not in this state, not with the thing holding it being Estinien, in all his draconic power. Silco had already burned his invisibility, and with Makoto and Gen hopped on Shimmer, it was the only thing he could offer in the event.

His feet moved faster, heading for the first exit he could find.

As is the way with these things, so much happens so very quickly.

Ryunosuke misses a lot of it. He's really starting to wish that he could make these forcefields in some shape other than spherical, because all these high pressure field tests are indicating that the roundness of them may be as much a detriment as an advantage. The bubbles are sturdy, but they leave him vulnerable to being swatted about; useful for knocking away opponents trapped inside, not so useful for standing his ground the way he wants to.

Case and point, Gen's strike sends him flying uncontrollably off to one side, away from the guy he's trying to protect. The bubble smacks against the storehouse wall, bounces off it, and pops on the rebound. Jarred, Ryunosuke falls to the floor in a disoriented heap, struggling to get his wits back about him.

He looks up to the terrifying sight of both shimmered Makoto and Gen bearing down on Estinien, who's still trapped and immobile, and for a split second he is absolutely convinced that he's about to watch this man die again. And it'll be his fault, for getting captured and necessitating Estinien come out here in the first place, and for being unable to help him by contributing to this fight in a single useful way.

He needs to stop them. He needs to save Estinien. There's no way in hell he'll be able to get there in time but he doesn't care, the feasibility doesn't factor into his decision for a second. He's still got to try. He starts to get up, tries to spring forward, his right hand outstretched--

Suddenly, several things happen at once. Blinding light bursts forth from the Dragoon, yes, but Ryunosuke's hand begins to glow as well, albeit with less intensity; his mark is obscured beneath a fingerless glove, but that isn't enough to contain the light, not entirely. He barely notices it, though, because it's arrival is accompanied something far more distracting: a chorus of horribly familiar voices, all screaming in unison at him from inside his own head.

He lets out a cry and falls mid-launch, stumbling to the ground once more as nausea begins to wash over him in waves. The voices are cacophonous; they howl at him, berating him for breaking his promise, crying out in disapproval of all the shortcomings he was already beating himself up over: Estinien's soul is once more being threatened by the Kenoma, and he's failing in his duty to protect him. So... Since he can't seem protect Estinien, it will.

Wait--! he tries to think at it, terrified of what that even means-- but another disorienting burst of nausea hits him. He's huddled on the ground on his elbows and knees, shuddering, clawed hands clapped over his ears in a useless gesture, because the screams are coming from inside the house. There's an immensely uncomfortable pressure around his left shoulder blade for some reason, but that seems secondary to the way his stomach is doing flips. For a moment, he's convinced he's going to be violently sick--

Well. Something does appear to come out of him, but. It's not vomit. Instead, a luminous, feathery wing bursts out the back of his shirt, stretching up and spreading wide above him.

In the moments before it commits to its movement, the entity's gaze lingers on Ryunosuke, its expression hollowed by purely white eyes. In the same moment it screams within his head, it seems to acknowledge him in this physical realm as he falls, wearing the body of the man he'd been trying to save. A clearer voice speaks among the cacophony.

An outcome preordained... Yet, will you surrender?

With that, the entity flies into motion, exemplifying both its host's skill and grace, along with a an ethereality that seems to transcend the limitations of the physical realm. In an instant, its holy lance cleaves Gen's summoned earth in two, as if parting waters; serenity itself seems to be cut into the fabric of the world surrounding it, diverting the Kenoma's attempt at violence outward.

Just as quickly, it is forced to attend to Makoto, who comes raging towards it, claws outstretched. The lance of light pierces the Kenoma's chest, with all the force and pain of a true weapon's strike, but without the physical damage. Instead, it is the spirit affected: the Kenoma. The Kenoma screeches and squirms beneath the entity's light, hiding away somewhere out of reach.

Then, it's eyes settle on Silco, the one cowardly fleeing from the consequences of his actions. With one smooth motion, the lance is airborne, piercing between the man's shoulder blades as he flees. The weapon lingers there for a moment, the Kenoma within him crying out, only to dissolve and reappear in its summoner's hand.

Again, it levels its weapon at Gen, as if in challenge:

"Oh trembling hearts, hide not shadow..."

It lunges forward, cleanly bisecting his spiritual body.

"Be cleansed and find absolution!"

Even moreso than everyone else, the enraged scream knocks him off balance, the noise slamming into his sensitive ears and laying him nearly flat on the ground. Whatever cry of pain he makes is lost underneath the din of the continued melee. His gun clatters to the ground shortly before his knees do, though the pain that radiates upwards from that particular injury is nothing compared to the pain that rattles through his skull.

By the time the ringing subsides and his vision finally clears, the scene before him is even more of a mess than before. The bright light from before still remains, despite the still upright walls of the storehouse blocking out the sun. Worse is the multitude of wings shimmering in the air, their translucent shapes causing him to flinch involuntarily as he remembers the last time he'd ended up in proximity to too many feathers all clustered together.

Though Ryunosuke writhes in pain not too far away, his attenion is focused entirely on—not Estinien, but the entity that must surely be inhibiting his body now, one Eustace would have liked to avoid for quite a few months more. He's always been quick but the entity is quicker, and he's still mid-motion trying to pick his gun back up again when it strikes first the earth, and then Makoto and Silco in quick succession.

Fuck. Not this (shit) again.

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach when it turns its attentions towards Gen - Gen, who he had promised to watch over and protect - and it's then that he throws his own personal safety back out the window and points his gun, now back in his hand, towards the glowing figure now impaling Gen with its spear. Shooting the thing hadn't worked last time but it's not like he has any better option now. The barrel of his gun sparks and crackles, lightning once again erupting forth in a clean trajectory towards its target, only this time much more powerful and violent in scope.

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cw emeto mention in the last paragraph

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moseys back on in, sorry guys