315: Struggler

Nicolai glared up at the sky.

Dark, angry clouds, pissing down their watery disregard onto him. The pouring rain, howling wind, the odd flashes of lightning and rumbling of thunder were a close fit to his mood. He was wondering what had happened to the other Hornet, whose head he’d set on fire. He hoped it was dead, lost to the storm, and he hoped it’d been painful.

Unlikely. It would have been able to see with its Soul Sense. According to the Modules, while he’d been falling it had managed to extinguish its head. Then it’d started flying away, disappearing into the driving rain. There was no sign of it returning. Unless the lightning had chosen to strike it down, he doubted it’d be dead, but it seemed to have abandoned its comrades.

He was in a typical stretch of jungle, bushes and plants thick and verdant around him, the earth rising up and down, carpeted by moist moss. Normally, he would’ve heard birds trilling, insects and animals rustling, but all that was buried under the howling of the wind and the drumming of heavy rain. His boots squelched over muddy ground as he set himself against a tree and focused internally.

It had been minutes, now, since he was last stung, and his ability to control his body without the spine jack was improving. He focused on his Soul, waking up the Soul-parts of the Modules, set Threat Analysis to sifting through ripples, poked the Mask, the Thrill, and the Dark into life.

He didn’t know precisely how to deal with the venom, but Simulations came up with various ideas. It was in his Soul. Everything in his Soul was under his control. Things in his Soul could be put out of his Soul. So long as you worked at it, found a fitting way.

A plan formed and he worked his Soul, joined by the various parts. They corralled the venom, pushing and shoving it, clearing it out. Cyberwarfare and the Dark were especially capable.

It had transformed into a kind of liquid energy since entering his body. He had to move it somewhere then expel it. The stomach seemed the best fit. He felt a prickling pain and nausea start as it seeped from his Soul and body, into his stomach, gathered in a liquid mass.

His visor snapped open. He allowed himself a brief moment of resignation then jammed two fingers down his throat until his stomach clenched and seized, bent him over and he vomited it out.

There was no dignified way to purge oneself. It went on for minutes, heaving it out then coughing and gasping, spitting burning saliva. He took the Red Water Bottle from one of his harness’s pouches, cleared his mouth and swallowed a little between each round.

In due time, it was all out. There was a puddle of faintly hissing, dark green liquid on the earth, the falling rain washing it out. Standing back up straight he turned his focus to his Nodes. They were filled up with a kind of spiritual sludge. The venom had turned all the Oma in them into the stuff.

This was more easily expelled. Now that the venom was out, his Soul was recovered. Thus he was able to quite easily push the sludge out his Nodes, send it in slow, thick streams through his Soul and into his lungs. There it turned into a thick gas.

He breathed out long and slow, exhaling a strangely thick steam, like puffing out warm air on a cold day and seeing it instantly condense, only thicker, darker. It felt as though each breath out and in was cleaning him out. Soon enough it was all gone, and now his in-breaths drew in fresh Oma, his Nodes beginning to fill.

Plucking some crystals from his pockets, he sped that process, dusting them one-by-one. He stopped when his Nodes were 90% full.

The final part of the process saw him focus on his Symbiotes. They were still stunned, shocked from the venom. They were showing signs of waking but it was slow.

He poked at them, kneaded them with his Soul, and found he was able to wake them up. It took time and effort, though. He had to pick and choose.

The Big Mouth was his first priority. He gradually stimulated it into wakefulness, and was relieved to see the line of it appear on his chest, between some bandoliers, then spread wide in its typical grin.

It opened up and a series of small drones flew out. Standard recon drones, as he’d lost his previous set during the fight. Unfortunately he had no more gun-drones or droids, but he was glad to have his standard aids around him. Reaching inside the mouth he found his M99 and pulled it free, drew out the spent mag and clicked in a fresh one.

It had been about six minutes since he’d landed, though it felt like more. He’d done his best to do everything as fast as he could, but the Hornet venom wasn’t easy to deal with.

Threat Analysis had been analysing ripples, its ability and accuracy at doing so gradually rising as the venom was cleared. It told him a fight was still in progress, that there was a chance he could get his Blade. In spite of that, it suggested running. He’d gotten free, he could cut his losses and run.

Unthinkable. Not until my Blade is back in my hands, he hissed.

###

Xyrrith spun into mist and dove through his cloud of crystals. A cracking boom sounded from behind, telling him he’d successfully avoided the Spear again—though he felt the loss of a dozen crystals, too, thrown up as sacrifices. He was alone, both his Tier 1 aids already dead.

‘You can’t run forever, nephew!’ Vorath yelled, laughing, as he gave leisurely chase. Xyrrith saw the Highspawn raise his hand, another Spear flashing into life, then he cocked his arm back and took aim.

Frantic, Xyrrith moved more crystals between him and the Highspawn, clustering them.

Doing so was not how he prepared to use them. If clustered, the destruction of one always caused the surrounding crystals to burst, too, a huge waste.

But the spear, he was realising, countered him. Vorath wasn’t aiming for the crystals, he aimed between them. He was trying to snipe Xyrrith from the air, and Xyrrith knew it would hit him even in mist form—though being in this state made him a little more difficult to target, the only benefit.

Thus he had to create dense screens of crystals, and thus he was going to lose this fight no matter what. Vorath hurled the spear, and a mass of Xyrrith’s crystals disappeared. Either he’d run out of crystals and Oma, or Vorath would successfully get one between them and hit him.

Another crack from the Spear and another clump of crystals gone. Xyrrith wove between trees as he saw Vorath forming another and taking aim. He didn’t have any crystals ready to get into position.

A jagged flash of lightning spat down from the sky above, slammed into a tree. The tree ignited all at once, leaves exploding into flame, and let out a deafening crack as it slumped in half, split in two, and for just a moment the two Hornets turned to stare.

Picked out in the light of the flames through the sheeting rain, a figure was visible, floating near to the tree, a long weapon held in both hands.

Light flashed and there came a quieter echo of the thunder. Vorath was knocked through the air, Skin Shield splintering, and the shots didn’t stop. A rapid pounding of them that cracked into him, and with a burst of ripples his Skin Shield broke.

Xyrrith stared, shocked but excited, sure he was about to see the Highspawn die. But with another spiritual blast a huge plume of mist exploded out from around the Highspawn, hid him in a great cloud.

The mist curled and faded as the rain lashed into it. The shots continued a few moments longer. Hitting something, but not Vorath. Xyrrith saw chunks falling from within the mist.

The shots ceased as the mist faded, and a gigantic ball of ice was revealed. Clear as a diamond, big as a Toothbearer, floating mid-air. The dark shape of Vorath could be seen in the centre.

Xyrrith hadn’t realised Vorath had such a strong emergency protection, but it made sense. The Highspawn was too canny to go down easily. He wasn’t sure exactly how the Art worked, but he saw the ice starting to crack into worrying straight chunks, all sharp and pointy, he realised it was more than just a defence.

###

Nicolai saw the crystal-creating Hornet flying away as fast as it could, and, hearing the ominous crackles of ice, feeling a sense of energy building through the ripples, he opted to follow its lead.

Hauling himself through the trees with the Grasping Finger, which he’d managed to wake while searching for these two, he was soon glad to have done so.

An explosion of ripples was accompanied by a boom like dynamite, then a wave of cracking noises.

Something big and white and sharp blurred through the air to his side, smashed explosively into a tree and toppled it.

Giant shards of ice, flying at great speed between the trees. There were a lot of them. It felt like the majority of the ice had been shotgunned at him, specifically.

But he’d moved with some care, aided by Simulations. He’d ensured the largest possible number of trees directly between him and the ice-covered Hornet. Now that paid off, as through drones he saw several of those trees falling, but the ice wasn’t able to punch through them all and get to him.

Back in the clearing, the Hornet was revealed, the ice gone. It held that shimmering Spear Art in one hand, his Blade in the other, and a little ice show wouldn’t keep him away from it.

Nicolai darted back out and took aim, found a clear line and fired. But the Hornet was moving and now the great number of trees between them meant it didn’t have to go far before his view was blocked—and his rounds weren’t powerful enough to punch through these thick trees.

He pursued, staying just below the screen of leaves all the trees formed towards their crowns. The Hornet, too, was staying beneath them. He guessed it didn’t want to go high in the sky and risk the lightning, and neither did he. The trees slowed them both, but the Hornet was a bit faster. The trees also provided it a continuously shifting mass of cover.

He squeezed off shots whenever he could, but never managed to land more than a couple before another tree blocked him. Each time he sighted it again, its Shield had recovered the damage.

Snarling with frustration, he turned his focus to his Symbiotes. If he could create the Spectral Claw he’d be able to move significantly faster. He worked to wake the Symbiotes comprising it, one by one, kneading them with his Soul, but it was a slow process no matter how he tried to speed it. In the meantime he powered both Pegasi rings at their max, used the Grasping Finger to slingshot as quick and powerful as he could.

Beneath his skinsuit, his Oma vest was down to the last few crystals, and the Hornet was continuing to gain ground.

It may well get away. But I will pursue nonetheless. He’d use the PathFinder and TreasureFinder to track it. He had more Oma crystals in his pouches, and with the Grasping Claw he should be able to gain on it, given enough time. It would never lose him, it would never…

His thoughts were interrupted by a tremendous sense of spiritual weight. Something terrible was coming near. Through his suit’s sensors he made out a vast humming. He rose a little higher to peer above the trees.

Dark shapes melted through the distant curtains of rain. They multiplied, more every moment, flowing through the sky toward him. A Hornet army, the rain splitting around them as it was deflected off some kind of gigantic, umbrella-like shield.