Felix was a blur of motion born of desperation. Tibera, however, moved with an unnerving grace for an old man, sidestepping the thrust with casual ease.
"Too predictable, Felix," Tibera chided, his voice a low, mocking hum.
"Your movements are still those of a street brawler, not a true assassin. You rely on brute force where precision is paramount." He parried Felix's next strike with a swift, almost invisible flick of his wrist, sending a jolt up Felix's arm.
"See? You telegraph your intentions. A master knows not just how to strike, but how to hide the strike."
As they exchanged blows, the acrid smoke from the Oneirogen Mist swirled thicker, playing tricks on Felix's senses. The rough stone walls seemed to ripple, the flickering torchlight stretching into grotesque shadows. Suddenly, the tunnel widened, transforming into a familiar, sun-drenched garden. His heart lurched.
There, amidst blooming flowers, were two small figures: Fiona and Finn, his little sisters, their laughter echoing like wind chimes. They turned, their innocent eyes wide, reaching out to him.
"Fiona?...Finn?" Felix cried, his guard momentarily dropping, but he managed to lean back at the last second.Tibera's blade, sharp and cold, grazed his cheek.
"Ah, the Oneirogen Mist. Potent, isn't it?" the old man chuckled, his voice cutting through the illusion.
"It doesn't just disorient, my dear boy. It taps into your deepest desires, your most profound regrets. It makes you see what you yearn for, or what you fear most. In your case, the innocence you lost, the family you strive to protect."
The garden flickered, replaced by the grim, blood-stained alley where he'd committed his first kill. His former master stood there, a cruel smirk on his face, holding a dripping blade. The corpse morphed, changing into Marconni himself.
"You think you've escaped me, boy?" Marconni's voice, a venomous whisper, slithered into Felix's mind.
"You're still my puppet. Always will be."
"Shut up!" Felix yelled, swinging at nothing.
"And this," Tibera continued, his voice a chilling lecture, "is why your newfound 'redemption' is so fragile. The mist amplifies the inherent traits of your fealty. With Marconni, it was the cold, calculating killer. Now, with your new masters, it's this… sentimental weakness. You are a vessel, Felix, shaped by the will of your liege. You don't choose to be a pacifist or a killer; you become what your master demands. You'll always be a tool."
Felix roared, shaking off the horrifying visions. He lunged, a desperate, wild attack, but Tibera was too quick. The old man moved around him, a phantom in the smoke, his blade a blur. Felix felt a sharp pain on his arm, then his leg. He was bleeding, but the pain was a welcome anchor, pulling him back from the hallucinatory abyss.
"Still too much emotion," Noticing why Felix was now allowing himself to get cut, Tibera sighed, almost bored.
"If you leave openings...." Tibera grabbed his arm mid-swing and stabbed his forearm, his blade coming out the other side.
Felix swung at him, but Tibera jumped back.
Drawing on the one ability he truly felt was his own, Felix willed his presence to vanish, melting into the swirling smoke and shadows. The air around Tibera seemed to shimmer, then Felix was gone, a ghost in the labyrinthine passage.
Tibera paused, his head cocked, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"You still don't understand the true nature of your power, do you?" He closed his eyes, taking a deep, slow breath. The silence stretched, broken only by the drip of water somewhere in the distance. Tibera opened his eyes, a glint of amusement in their depths. Without warning, he flicked his wrist. His wickedly sharp dagger, attached to a thin, almost invisible thread, spun through the air. It struck the rough stone wall with a soft clink, ricocheted, then struck another wall, then another, weaving an impossible path through the confined space.
Felix, hidden in a dark alcove, felt a sudden, searing pain in his left shoulder. The dagger, having completed its improbable journey, had embedded itself precisely there. Before he could react, the thread attached to the hilt tightened. Tibera, with a casual tug, reeled him in like a fish on a line, pulling him out of the shadows and into the dim light.
"You see?" Tibera said, his voice devoid of triumph, merely stating a fact.
"Your 'Presence Erasure' isn't true invisibility, Felix. It's a manipulation of perception. But the thread, you are still there. You just make yourself harder to see. A subtle difference, but a crucial one. You don't understand the power you're using, only that it works. Also, you're bleeding, so..." Tibera shrugged.
Felix ripped the dagger from his shoulder, and Tibera pulled it back into his hand.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Felix took off his cloak and tried to walk, but stumbled. Regaining his footing, he charged again, a primal scream tearing from his throat.
Their blades met in a flurry of sparks. Felix fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, but Tibera was a master, every movement economical, every strike precise. The old man's blade danced, cutting, slicing, leaving shallow but numerous wounds across Felix's arms, chest, and legs. The illusions returned, stronger now, Marconni's sneering face superimposed over Tibera's, Fiona and Finn weeping in the background. Felix faltered, his vision blurring.
"Pathetic," Tibera scoffed, delivering a brutal strike to Felix's chest that sent him staggering back, gasping for air. Before Felix could recover, a swift, powerful kick connected with the back of his neck. Darkness swallowed him whole.
As Felix's body slumped, Tibera raised his blade, a cold, final gleam in his eyes. But just as the steel began its descent, a soft clink echoed in the tunnel. The small, intricately made doll, Lily, that had been hanging from Felix's waist, snapped free from its chain. It hit the ground, and in a blink, it began to grow. Silver hair cascaded down, shimmering in the dim light, as the doll rapidly expanded, its porcelain features hardening into the emotionless, perfect face of a young woman. She wore a simple, short, white dress that seemed to absorb the light.
With a speed that defied her sudden appearance, the now-humanoid doll, Lily, a gift from Hanzet, swung a fist, connecting squarely with Tibera's gut. The old man grunted, a surprised cough escaping his lips, as he was sent flying several meters back, slamming into the tunnel wall with a sickening thud, causing a net of cracks to appear.
Tibera slowly pushed himself up, rubbing his stomach.
"Not very nice, attacking an elder," he wheezed, a hint of genuine annoyance in his voice.
Lily stood motionless, her silver eyes fixed on him, utterly devoid of expression.
"No answer, then?" Tibera sighed, drawing a fresh blade as the one he was using was lost in the darkness.
"Very well. I suppose I'll have to cut you down."
He lunged, his movements regaining their fluid grace. His blade flashed, aiming for Lily's neck. But the doll-woman moved with impossible flexibility, twisting, bending, her body seeming to flow around the attack while not moving from the spot. The blade connected, slicing across her arm, but the wound instantly shimmered, knitting itself back together as if it had never been there.
Tibera's eyes widened slightly. "Regeneration? Interesting." He pressed his attack, a flurry of precise strikes, but Lily moved effortlessly, parrying the attacks and delivering precise strikes to Tibera's vital spots. He coughed blood as a blow struck him in the chest and jumped back but almost immediately dropped to one knee.
Lily reached into a small pouch at her side. With a soft clink, she produced… a frying pan.
Tibera paused, his brow furrowed.
"A frying pan? Really? Is this some kind of joke?"
Lily offered no response, her gaze unwavering. Then, with a surprising burst of speed, she swung the pan. It wasn't a clumsy blow; it was a precise, powerful arc that forced Tibera to parry with his blade. The clang of metal on metal echoed loudly. Lily then let go of the pan, causing it to bounce off the floor, sending it ricocheting towards Tibera's legs. He jumped sideways, surprised. She used her foot to kick the pan, sending it spinning towards his head from an unexpected angle.
"Remarkable!" Tibera exclaimed, deflecting the pan with his blade.
"You're incredibly flexible, aren't you? It's like fighting a… a living spring. Every move is unexpected."
********
High above, Trice circled the sprawling, intricate architecture of the Dwarven city of Aegisforge. His enhanced harpy eyesight, usually so keen, was useless against the sheer density of the city. He called out telepathically, his mind reaching for Felix, but there was only silence, a void where his friend's presence should be.
"He's too deep," Trice thought, frustration gnawing at him.
"I need something more. An ability that can pierce this rock."
A familiar warmth spread through him, a subtle shift in his very being.
Kojo.
His master had heard his silent plea. A new gift, a new power, bloomed within him. "Thank you, Kojo," Trice whispered, the words carried away by the wind. He focused, channeling the newfound energy.
"Aegis!"
A sphere-like wave of pure awareness radiated from him, sinking into the earth, flowing through the stone and metal of Aegisforge. It wasn't just sight; it was a form of omniscience within the area of effect, a complete understanding of the city's layout, its hidden passages, its very heartbeat. He saw the intricate tunnels, the bustling markets, the deep mines. And there, far below, in a small… artificial space?… he found Felix. Unconscious. And another presence, powerful and malevolent. He also sensed how vast the artificial space beneath the entire city was. It made him wonder....
"No time to ponder that now."
Trice shot upwards, gaining altitude, then wrapped his powerful wings tightly around his body, hardening them with the gift of 'crystallization'. His form streamlined, becoming a living projectile, a bullet of diamond-hard feathers.
"Diamond Drill!" he roared, tucking his head and plummeting towards the earth. He hit the ground like a bullet, a deafening CRACK echoing through the dwarven streets, startling citizens and sending tremors through the foundations of Aegisforge. He burrowed deep, the hardened feathers grinding through stone and earth with incredible speed.
***********
Below, in the smoky tunnel, Lily had just knocked Tibera's blade from his hand. The frying pan was raised high, poised to split his skull.
Just as the pan began its descent, a thunderous CRACK ripped through the ground above them, followed by a rapid, grinding roar. Lily froze, her silver eyes flicking upwards. In that instant, she reverted. The silver hair receded, the short dress vanished, and the humanoid form shrank, collapsing back into the small, inanimate doll that lay on the ground.
Tibera, seizing the opportunity, didn't hesitate. He melted into the swirling smoke, becoming one with the acrid mist, vanishing from sight.
A moment later, Trice burst through the ceiling, landing with a heavy thud, sending dust and debris flying. The only light was the faint glow from the hole he'd created above. "Felix!" he called out, his voice echoing in the darkness. He squinted, his enhanced vision searching in the gloom.
He saw him. Felix, a crumpled, unconscious heap on the ground. Trice started towards him, relief flooding him. But before he could reach his friend, a shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom. Tibera. The old man moved with silent, deadly speed, striking Trice hard at the back of the neck. Trice's vision swam, then went black.
Tibera caught Trice's falling form, slinging the harpy over his shoulder with surprising ease. He turned, melting back into the shadows, running deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels. As he moved, Felix stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Through the haze of pain and the lingering effects of the mist, he saw them: Tibera, carrying Trice, disappearing into the darkness.
"T-Trice…" Felix croaked, his voice weak, barely a whisper. But the effort was too much. The world spun, and he passed out again.
As Tibera navigated the twisting passages wiping blood from his lips. "Incompetent fools," he muttered, referring to the thugs he'd left behind. He spat out a tooth and pulled a small, ornate watch from his pocket and pressed a button. A faint, almost inaudible whir emanated from it.
In the decimated warehouse, Hamza, Adade, Fatima, Lucille, and Matoi stood in surprise as the thugs just… died. The last of their opponents had just collapsed, a strange, sudden stillness falling over the battlefield. Hamza looked at Adade, a puzzled expression on his reptilian face. "Did you…?"
Adade shook his head, his brow furrowed. "No. They just… stopped."
Suddenly, the distant yells of city guards pierced the air, steadily growing louder. Hamza's eyes narrowed.
"Guards. We need to go. Now. If they find us here, it'll be an international incident." He signaled to the others, and they moved, a silent, efficient retreat.
Back in the tunnel, Felix weakly pushed himself up, his body screaming in protest. The Oneirogen Mist still clung to him, twisting his perceptions. The tunnel walls writhed, the shadows danced, and the air shimmered with impossible colors. He saw Marconni's face, then Fiona and Finn, their faces contorted in silent screams. He stumbled forward, trying to walk, but his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the cold stone.
Through the swirling mist, a silver-haired figure emerged.
Lily.
She walked towards him, her emotionless eyes fixed on his prone form. She reached out a small, delicate hand. Felix tried to reach back, but his arm felt like lead. The world faded, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Several kilometers away from Aegisforge, a biting wind whipped through the desolate landscape. Hamza and the others had found refuge in a small, secluded cave, its entrance partially obscured by snow-laden bushes. They had left the freed slaves back in the city, trusting the chaos of the explosion and the arrival of the city guards to provide them cover. Now, the guards would be searching for them, the 'foreign elements' who had caused such a disturbance.
Snow began to fall, soft flakes drifting down, coating the rugged terrain in a fresh white blanket. Inside the cave, the mood was grim.
"Any sign of them?" Fatima asked, her voice laced with worry.
Hamza shook his head, his scaled face tight with concern.
"Nothing. The telepathic link is broken for both. I can't sense Felix, and Trice… he just vanished."
A faint sound drifted from the cave entrance, a soft thump in the falling snow. Hamza tensed, his claws extending, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
"Stay here," he whispered, cautiously moving towards the opening.
He peered out into the swirling snow. The wind howled, carrying flakes across his face. Then he saw it. A figure, collapsed in the snow, barely visible. Hamza rushed out, his heart pounding.
It was Felix. Lying still, unconscious, his hand outstretched. And clutched in his pale fingers, a small, silver-haired doll.