10/13 - Borghulda - Sid's hideout - morning - Proxy

  Magnus and his body double bombard Zeal with a flurry of thunderous punches and kicks. They're in perfect sync, churning out attacks without delay, preventing Zeal from countering, incorporating precise, well-timed movements, despite the heaviness of their steps. Their arms fly straight. A simple jab is the fastest hit you can dish out. But he's putting extra weight into it. Normally, you'd have to arch your arm a bit to deliver a heavier hit; momentum x mass, that stuff. But he's skipping that part entirely… This dude has to be a practitioner in a style. The weird thing is, it's familiar to me.

  The double maneuvers behind him, dragging his foot as he readies a strike. Zeal catches it. Looks like he figured them out, and so did I. Not like it's too hard or anything. The enemy and his clone assault their opponent, forcing them to play defense, then the double will get a sucker punch in to do some real damage, rinse and repeat. It's simple to catch onto, but depending on who's doing it, it's either manageable or downright hard as shit to deal with. This is the latter. So even if he caught one of them, the other would make up for that. And that's exactly what the real one is going to do. He runs up, then turns his back to Zeal mid-run. He's sliding and the way he's turned like that… Oh shit, no way!

  "BLOCK, IT'S THE IRON SHOULDER!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

  There's no way, like seriously, how the hell does he know that!? Bajiquan!

  The impact is loud; you can even hear the weight of it rippling around the room like a car crashing into a human being. Anyone who takes that is gonna feel nothing but pain. But my warning might have just saved his life. Zeal used the clone to shield himself, but it pushed him back. If he hadn't dug his feet into the ground, he would've gone flying into the wall. He tosses the clone like a wet blanket, wiping his brow.

  "Wanna try that again?"

  He used their tactic against them. The clone was probably meant to hold him in place while the real one would deal the decisive finisher. Gotta give him credit for the quick thinking, but he ain't gonna hear it out of my mouth, no sir. Hm? From behind the pillar, a sneaky rat is getting ready to hit Zeal from the back of the head with a club.

  "Not on my watch!" With a running start, I jump at them, kicking them right in the ribs. Poor bastard hits the ground on his back, his head smacking against the wooden floor like a dribbled basketball. Dude looks 2-3 years older than me. "Didn't know warriors pull sneak attacks like that. What, you're scared your boy is gonna lose?"

  He scrambles to his feet, rushing over to Sid, dropping to his knees in front of him. "...Forgive me, boss! I…I just…I didn't–"

  Magnus stomps over towards him, balling up his fists. He's confused, but that blank expression is what gets me. He's just staring at the dude cowering on the ground. I blink, and the guy is kicked right in the head without a word. He's on his back, bleeding from his nose.

  "Who told you to do that? Answer me." Another stomp connects to the guy's ribs. "Did I? We're warriors, you shithead!" He keeps stomping him out anywhere else, growing enraged with each hit. "...Don't insult us by pulling that crap!"

  He's gonna stomp on him again, but my foot blocks his. "Cut it out. He's supposed to be your ally, right?"

  "He's worthless. Scum that intervene in fights they don't belong to are trash!"

  "So what? That doesn't give you the right!"

  Richard casts a contemptuous glare at both Magnus and Sid. He kneels to heal the guy's body. "I'll do as much as I can, but a broken bone could take a while, so try resting."

  "You can mend wounds?" Magnus gawks at my buddy's power. "That's amazing! Boss, isn't that amazing!? It's like a miracle!"

  Sid hums aloud, somewhat amazed at Richard's healing capability, but not as thrilled as compared to the jackass next to me. "Guess so… Boyo, what's ya name?"

  "Richard."

  "Come work with–"

  "Like I would want anything to do with you."

  Irrational anger overtakes Magnus immediately, balling up his fists. He's about to kick Richard. I punched him right in the jaw. He staggers away from us, wobbling like a drunk on happy hour. Shame, I didn't hear the "crack" I was going for.

  "Go for it, and I'll end you."

  He steps forward, ready to throw down with me. I'm more than happy to beat the crazy out of him if that's what he wants!

  "Enough." The big man himself gestures with his finger for Magnus and the other guy to go to him. They sheepishly obey him. "Magnus and…you."

  "Yes, warrior chief?"

  "Forgive me, boss! It was–"

  "Don't worry 'bout it. Raise your heads and sit close to each other." Magnus tenses, leaping inside his skin, but complies. They scrunch up next to each other, giving him eye contact for the first time since we got here. Sid's hand flies across their faces, his arm blurred. Blood splatters the floor next to them. Magnus is fixed to his spot, tensing every muscle in his body while the other guy cries at the top of his lungs, covering his bloody face.

  "Why would you do that!?" Alex is stopped by Marie before he can approach Sid.

  "Huh? How else am I supposed to discipline them? They gotta respect the way things work, 'specially with combat and whatnot. Pullin' sneaky shit like that, I oughta beaten 'em senseless, but I'll settle for a quick cut. Seems fair, don't it?"

  He cut them with his finger, but there's no blood on him. Could've wiped most of it off with how fast he moved his finger, but not even a trace? More than a clean cut, it was a masterful display of the human body as a weapon.

  "This is not discipline, this is brutality!"

  "Ya serious, man? When ya got someone actin' up a mess, what do ya do? Ask nicely for them to quit it?"

  "We dedicate ourselves to stopping the bandits; we consider them a serious threat! Moreso, they are not people I stare down at or expect worship from! We all fight together as a collective! I would sooner die than harm a single hair on my comrade's head!"

  "...Lame," is all Sid says, sighing with frustration at Alex's answer. "Here I thought we would get along… Boyo with the goggles! You ain't like this loser, right?"

  "Why ask me?"

  "Cause…I get the feeling you and me are on the same wavelength."

  "You high? The hell we are, idiot!"

  "You serious? I saw the look on your face when ya friend was fightin' Magnus…you were smilin' from head to toe. Ya wanted to fight, didn't ya? It felt like your blood was pumping faster and faster while you were watchin'. You were imagining what it would be like for you to fight instead, right? Would ya win, lose, or even die? Everything else just stopped matterin'." …My blood was pumping. I couldn't help imagining how the fight would go for me. Every clash, block, and even the brutal hits, all made me jealous that I wasn't the one fighting. "I get it, I really do… We don't care about anything other than the fight, those moments between life and death; those are the times where we feel more than alive, but really 'here'. So, don't give me some shit about how much you care about ya friends and just admit it, all right?"

  He's waiting for it. A shudder, the sudden jerk of my body at his correct assessment of my person. He wants me to deny it, to see me squirm on my feet and get all dramatic about this kind of thing. Honestly, I can't blame him. Maybe if it were anyone else, they'd wanna deny it. Or maybe he wants to sow doubt in my friends, but just one look at any of them, you can tell they're not fazed in the least.

  "Uh…yeah. And?"

  "And? Just and? That's it!? Ya takin' me for a ride or somethin'?" He unleashes a boisterous cackle, slapping his beefy chest just as loud. It's performative, that, or his sense of humor is completely broken. "Ya got a sack on ya, gotta admit that! But…I really don't like those eyes of yours."

  Whatever fake friendliness he was mustering up is gone, transparent hostility teetering on a thin rope that'll snap any second now. I would love to beat the brakes off this asshole, but that's not why we're here. Besides, I get the feeling there'll be a more appropriate time for this, and I'm more than patient enough for it.

  "...We're out of here," I say, holding my head high. "You know what? It's frustrating to know that the bandits can do whatever they want here, I agree. But I know everyone else here must be frustrated too! They know there's something on the line if they raise a fuss against the bandits! So quit acting like you're so goddamn special, you baby!"

  He's either gonna get off that throne to beat the crap out of me, or he's just gonna drill holes through my eyes. Instead, to my shock, he starts laughing, clutching his head as his voice rises, rolling around in his seat, and stomping his feet. However, as he calms down, the air around him becomes stifled, colder. He's not even bothering with the nice guy act anymore. It's not even close to hatred; that's not it. Sid's curious at how easily we're standing up to him, me specifically, since this could be the first time someone younger than him dared stand up against him. There's no way he's going to just let us go without a confrontation. I can say this with absolute certainty.

  Borghulda - Finn's workshop - morning - Proxy

  Back at camp, Marie is going over our meet-cute with Sid's faction, and she doesn't need my help to get the finer details across. I'm too busy repeating that crazy dude's moves in my head and out of it. No matter how I try it, I can't replicate those heavy stomps. Bajiquan is a style that uses explosive power, so he probably did those to build up kinetic force. He must've done some insane training to bring out results like that. But more than that, this is starting to support the idea Richard and I had; this world and ours are connected. Legion knowing and saying he can take us back to ours was blatant evidence; this just helped solidify that. Although it's not like we can do anything with information like that except say told ya so.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  There's nothing better to do, so I thought hanging out with Finn would be a fun way to kill some time, and I don't wanna leave without saying goodbye to him. Climbing up the hill with my hands in my pockets, I finally reach the top.

  "MAXIMUM POWER!"

  A roar, followed by the explosive burst of flames, stops me in my tracks. Bewildered and concerned that Finn might have just blown himself up, I hurried towards the workshop, worrying over the cloud of smoke rising from over there. Finn is lying on the ground next to a smoking cauldron. Lucious is tending to him. "Hey! Don't tell me you're dead!" Finn sits right up when I get closer. He coughs for a moment before jumping to his feet. "What the hell happened here, man?"

  "Proxy! Do you wanna help me make something super cool!?"

  "What, a bomb?"

  "No, I can't. Not after last time."

  "Last…time?"

  "It was…well…"

  "Mountain…crack…open."

  "I didn't think it would be that bad! I got carried away, that's it!"

  On the one hand, that sounds somewhat terrifying, but my inner caveman wants to see a bomb split open a moutain.

  "I got loads of ideas I wanna try out, just a bunch of them! Come on, let's do this! Right, Lucious! Yeah!"

  "Yes."

  "Ah, I mean, it's not like I have a lot of experience making things, at least mechanically."

  "You can just assist me again, like yesterday."

  "Sounds easy enough. So, what're we cooking up today?"

  "All kinds of things! I wanted to make an incense that can mask certain odors by somehow extracting the pleasant smells from flowers. Oh, a container that could capture and sprinkle water, especially rainwater! Speaking of perhaps…"

  He goes on a mile a minute, talking about all the stuff he wants to make. Most of it is centered on helping the village, improving the condition of the village somehow.

  "You're really busting your hump for the village, huh?"

  "Of course, it's my duty to. I have to do what I can for the village, because that's why I'm still here…this is really the best I can do for everyone."

  "Why are you still here? What does that mean?"

  "...The next in line should always be the second strongest to the chief. When it is time, the second will take the seat of chief, and in that, they will become the First-strongest…. My dad was second-strongest behind my grandpa; that's how it has always been. But that's not me… I'm scared of fighting, afraid to hurt anyone, and I can't handle pain all that well. For the first time in generations, someone else, other than descendants of the original war chief, is the second strongest." So that prick from before could become chief of the village if something were to happen to the old man? No doubt he'll launch a full-blown assault on the Fire Wraiths, itching for the chance at bloodshed. It's enough to make my skin crawl. "I want to become chief; there's no greater honor. Grandpa deserves to rest without worry for tomorrow, but…someone bluntly pointed out how useless I am… But at the same time, I'm scared of becoming chief. There are many things I wanted to make, that I wish I could make, but…but now, I'll never get the chance." He lightly taps his forehead with a balled-up fist, quivering a little as he hides his face from me. "...I'm a selfish person, but…I just want to enjoy the only thing I'm good at, even for a while longer."

  I step forward, ready to talk with him, but Lucious beats me to it. He ruffles the poor kid's hair. "...Not…selfish… Enjoy…youth."

  "My youth? But…"

  "Children…enjoy…being…child… Not…selfish."

  That mask obscures his face, but the gentle touch of his voice and his eyes are enough to tell me he's smiling.

  "But what about my duties!?"

  I smack his back to knock the thought out of him. "That can wait. Let's just do something, nothing to do with the village, no responsibilities, just pure fun!"

  "Hmm…hmmm… Anything I want? I…never built something I wanted for myself. But if there's one thing I wanted to make, it would have to be…" Finn points his finger towards the sky. "Something that can soar high into the sky. Wouldn't it be so cool to see something like that happen!? We could make something capable of flying high into the sky, all the way beyond."

  Hmm, that kinda sounds like…

  "A rocket?"

  "Rocket?"

  "It's this huge…er, cylinder-shaped shuttle that launches from the ground into the sky."

  Finn immediately grabs onto my shoulders, his eyes twinkling with wonder and excitement. "How do we make!? Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

  "Hey– come on, quit it!"

  He snaps out of his momentary geek out, letting his surprisingly strong grip on my shoulders go. "I– I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me."

  "It's fine, and if we tried to build one it would take a good decade or two…"

  "How come!?"

  "Because it's super big! Bigger than you, me, the big guy, and everyone in this village combined."

  "Wha– But how!?"

  "Uh, they just make it that big."

  "Wow! But what do they do with something so huge?"

  "They shoot those suckers into the sky and into space!"

  "You mean beyond the sky? That's…incredible. Your world sounds amazing. I sort of wish that I were born there instead… It would suit someone like me better. At least the one who would be born in my stead could be a great warrior, right?"

  A thought I once had about this world. A place where I wouldn't have to be held back by society, where I could fight as much as I would like, whenever I want. I still think that this world is the right one for me, and my staying here would be great. However, not everything about home was so bad, maybe a bit boring, but not bad.

  "My world ain't so perfect either. It can be a pain in the ass most of the time. Besides, what-ifs are a waste to think about anyway. You shouldn't be afraid to let your gramps and the villagers know who you are, inside and out. You guys are family, right?"

  He hangs his head once again, easily pulling himself back into a slump. "It's just hard to. What if everyone thinks I'm weird for it, or that I'm not acting the way I should, or maybe–"

  Lucious lifted Finn by pinching the back of his tunic with his big fingers. "Family loves…no…matter...even if…not understand."

  I can't quite understand what he meant by that, but I can tell he means well with it, so I guess it doesn't really matter.

  Borghulda - Anti-bandit army campsite - morning - Alexander

  Proxy had split off from us after the meeting with Sid. Marie was slightly annoyed, yet she knew he would return when it was most appropriate. Meeting Sid has given me a perspective on the situation in this village. A fracture between those who wish to fight the bandits and the village elder and chief who desire the preservation of the village. Both parties are not incorrect about their methods of securing the village's safety, and yet I cannot bring myself to side with either. A life where one must endure whatever cruel treatment is befallen upon them and the drive to fight, albeit with little disregard for one's allies, I cannot say I fall in either camp. However, I am unable to make headway with either man of authority…

  "He used to tap his feet when he was troubled as well."

  Sir Albert is standing behind me, his lance strapped to his back. He strokes his beard, the corner of his lip raised.

  "Who would?"

  "Why, your father."

  "...Do I truly resemble him that much?"

  "Any man that knew him well can see his image in you."

  "Even the people who have come to despise him."

  "Hatred is bred by many things, especially from love… I heard of your meeting with Garrick from Marianne."

  "He revealed many horrible revelations about my father, many things that left me disillusioned…and yet, I still find myself unsure of the truth, questioning what my father stood for, who he was, and why he sought peace through bloodshed."

  "You can ask the same of the people of Borghulda, even yourselves."

  "I know… This is not a confession of ignorance on the workings of battle and ideals. I…at first, knew I was using others to combat the bandits, that I would put their lives in danger to fight them, and yet, they did not mind this. They all wished to aid me, to place their lives in my hands, to defeat the bandits. I felt ashamed of myself when I realized this truth, and I even despised myself for it. Now, however, I realized that I am not using them but fighting beside them for the future of the outside. I'm emboldened by their trust in Marie and I, in spite of our pasts and who we're related to. Although I wished for a way to bring peace without violence, I learned from someone that to help someone, and to even save someone, you must be willing to fight back."

  I kneel to Sir Albert, placing my sword beside me to show the utmost respect.

  "Alexander, you needn't–"

  "I beg of you: tell me of the man my father was to you…who was he in your eyes! He was the one who taught me what it meant to be a knight, to protect people, to smile, to be kind! To me, he was the most honorable man in the world! So please, speak to me one thing: was it all a lie!? I beseech you!"

  This may be far too much of a gesture; however, I want to convey my earnest request to him, to show that these are not merely the words of a man who is inquisitive about his father. Speaking with one's heart is one of the many things my father taught me, and it is this teaching that has gotten me so far.

  "...Your father was a funny man."

  F-funny?

  "Huh?"

  "He was the type to act first; thought and reason always seemed to be an afterthought. Although he could be quite the grumpy eater, always bothered when people came to eat with him, often growling like a mad dog at such times."

  "What are you trying to tell me, Sir Albert?"

  "Oh, not to forget, foolishly clumsy. Why, once, while he and Garrick were still underlings, I told them to collect a flower that I thought would enhance the flavor of alcohol… It did not do such a thing." So, he was the reason Garrick and my father climbed and jumped off a cliff!? "...Yet whenever it came to a serious matter, his mind would turn into the sharpest weapon he had, clutching victory into his hands every time during the march."

  "I do not understand…what is it that you wish for me to–"

  "Do you not see? There are many sides to who your father is, many of which make up the surface of who he was."

  "So, you mean to tell me that is who he was?"

  "On the surface, from what I've seen, yes… What we know and what we are shown is always a constant reminder of the distance we can have with those around us, be they allies, brothers, or even a son's father. We may never know what a person is truly thinking or feeling… However, there are those moments where words are not needed. When we left this village after defeating them, alone in the wilderness, away from our camp…he was crying."

  ...

  In the morning, a certain man, without fail, goes out for a drive on his prized bike: Passionate love. True to its namesake, it was made out of passion for machinery. and the love for the next great ride across the unmade roads. It's a rather large bike, boasting several exhaust pipes jutting out from the back, each one bursting with howling flames could scorch anyone unfortunate enough to be behind it. Wheels that can crush the pebbles under them, let alone a person's skull, and its chasey is decorated with pained on flames, representing the owner's loyalties to the Fire Wraiths. Capable of reaching up to 300 MPH, he's said to turn into a flaming blur, rending the earth itself. However, the latter is simply a rumor made up by his fellow bandits. However, despite what the bike is able to do, he would always deny it being used as "a weapon".

  This man commands respect in the Fire Wraiths, and with that comes many responsibilities to his men, carrying out orders from those above, and even having to conduct maintenance on vehicles they have available. In truth, he doesn't care for these duties and obligations; he joined the Fire Wraiths to survive. Yet with them, he found his passion for vehicles. When the Fire Wraiths first gained access to these incredible machines, he was the one to learn their inner workings, inside and out. Soon, this rigorous study allowed him to modify and create vehicles of his own. This just so happen to catch the eye of The Phantom Flame. However, he never cared about being a Flame Wraith; it was simply convenient.

  This bike is the one thing he cares about in this world, the only thing he's living for. Without this machine, without his bike, he could never experience the high he feels from each ride. The wind racing past his body, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but most importantly...purpose. These rides cement his life in ways battle and bloodshed never can. Even if he were to be forgotten by people, by the Fire Wraiths, these moments elation and euphoria proves that he has lived a wonderful life, despite whatever tortures came before... So even in his final moments, as his head came clean off, he wore a bright smile, dying at his happiest. It was a swift cut from an expert's blade, killing him without pain or his notice. Flame Wraith: Speed King was assassinated. Now, the die shall be cast with blood.